Keep the Cup From Tipping (A Captain Swan fan fiction)

Chapter 1

A/N. (I don't own most of the characters and certain parts of the plot. Courtesy goes to the creative teams behind Once Upon a Time and Next To Normal.) My first OUAT short-fic! I hope you enjoy it! SPECIAL THANKS TO Kira Dalton (of FF.net) FOR THE HELPFUL CRITIQUE!

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Keep the Cup From Tipping

Chapter 1

It was forty minutes past two in the morning. Killian sat frozen at the dining table, waiting for his cup of earl grey tea to cool a little bit so that it wouldn’t burn his tongue. He breathed quietly and slowly so that he could hear the slightest of noise from the suburban neighborhood that they reside in.

It didn’t take long before the knob of the front door started clanking, and Killian’s eyes brightened up. Henry, with his hair disheveled and his teal shirt and jeans soaked, appeared into the dining area and slammed a hand to his forehead at the sight of her stepfather.

“Dad, I told you not to wait for me on Wednesday nights,” said Henry, sitting from across the table.

Killian leaned in and stared at his stepson, who looked spectacular in his eyes – the same innocence that he always saw in Neal’s. “Technically, it’s already Thursday morning. Care telling me why your clothes are damp?” He inquired with a caring tone and a soft smile.

A shy smirk pulled out of Henry’s face as he looked down in embarrassment. “It was a swimming party, and I didn’t have clothes for the ‘swimming’ part, so I hopped into the pool with this outfit.”

“Swimming party? Are you serious?” He mocked. “You’re twenty-seven and you still go to swimming parties?”

Henry rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes on me, mate. Try something cool for once, will ya?”

He laughed. “You’re the coolest dad ever.”

“I know.” Killian sat straight as he crossed his arms in pride. “I’m also the most concerned dad around. What did I tell you about your curfew?” There was authority in his new tone and slight annoyance in his eyes as he waited for an answer.

“Unbelievable,” Henry muttered under his breath. “You’re the one who said it, dad. I’m already twenty-seven. I practically have immunity over curfew hours and parental restraints. I haven’t been a teenager for the last seven years,” he joked.

Killian narrowed his eyes as he glared at him. “What if you get hit by a truck on your way home, or a syndicate of criminals kidnap you and sell you at the Black Market, or if your blood sugar drops critically low and you faint in the middle of nowhere?”

“Dad, you got to stop watching the news. They’re obviously getting into your head,” Henry jeered and grinned at him.

That lovely smile warmed Killian’s heart, like all the other times that he looked at him with such life in his face.

“Go upstairs quietly and sleep before your brother’s cat wakes up your mom and you get caught,” said Killian. Henry got up and pushed his chair back before disappearing into the staircase.

Killian took a deep breath and stared at the cup of earl grey in front of him. He never liked tea, but it was the only beverage that magically toned down his lust for rum all these years. Sighing, he nursed the tea as he held the cup near his face, hoping that its aroma would fool him again into liking its taste.

Several minutes later, he heard a door creak open and shut, and footsteps that grew louder with each sound. Emma, who was wearing Killian’s Yankees shirt which extended to her thighs, walked to where he sat.

“Why are you already up?” Emma rubbed the sleep off her eyes. “Or did you even sleep at all?”

“I did sleep… for about an hour.” Killian took a sip from his tea. “I just feel like having a nice cuppa tea, that’s all,” he lied.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Since when was a cup of tea nice to you?” She chuckled, but then an evasive thought caused her to frown all of a sudden. “Or is the rum calling you again?”

For almost a year already, Killian had been taking tea more often than ever. Every time Emma asked him about it, he’d complain about the rum nagging at the back of his head. This moment, however, wasn’t one of those times of impending relapse. He simply wanted to waste another teabag.

“Aye,” he lied again.

Emma moved over to him and sat on his lap. He wrapped his arms around his wife and secured her head rested on his shoulder.

“Come back to bed,” she whispered to him. Before Killian could reply, she held his face and placed her lips onto his. She was kissing him too eagerly, and her hands were at the hem of his shirt a little too soon.

Killian moaned into the kiss, before reluctantly pulling off. “Looks like someone’s in grave need of-,”

“-of you,” Emma cut him off, with a devious smirk on her face. She moved to place light pecks on his ear. “I need you,” she whispered. “I need you inside me.”

He wasn’t able to respond in a jiffy because the feel of her lips against his ear made his fantasies go frenzy.

“So what do you say, Captain?” Emma snapped upon figuring that he was enjoying the kisses too much.

Killian gulped nervously. “I’ll… I’ll b-be upstairs after this t-tea’s done,” he stuttered.

Emma gave him a look of complete disbelief. She stood up and grabbed the cup from the table before disposing its contents in the sink. “The tea is done.” A wily smile broke from the curves of her lips before heading back to the room.

Killian took a deep breath before getting up from his seat to follow Emma. When he turned off the single lamp in the area, a curious slash of bedroom light at the foot of the guestroom door caught his sight. Before he could reach for the knob, the door opened from the inside, revealing a bright-eyed Hector with his pile of books cradled by one arm, and a bottle of Red Bull in his other hand.

“Dad!” The dark-haired boy exclaimed with a queer amount of energy.

“Hec? It’s three in the morning. Why are you already up?” Killian gazed pityingly at his son. “Or did you even sleep at all?”

“I got four big tests for today, three music sheets to perfect before two in the afternoon, two essays to submit, and a cat to feed. I mean, everything’s great, dad.” He said with a stain of worry in his voice.

“What do those professors think of thirteen year old children? Bloody robots?” Killian hissed. “Anyway, you havta slow down, boy.” He playfully gave him a light punch to the shoulders. “I’m going to have sex with your mother,” he blurted out before walking away.

“What the f-,” Hector said under his breath. “Thanks, dad. I’m very much pleased to hear that,” he shot back at him with a sickened face.