He said everything, besides our little adventure, would go back to normal.
Do you think that it is? He’s right.
Because I’ve been wanting to do this drabble since seeing the finale:
But then, he was a pirate. Centuries of deceit, of taking what he wanted when he wanted—consequences be damned—had been threaded through his soul, woven deep within his heart that he was no longer Killian Jones without these fatal flaws. Honesty wasn’t always the better part of valor.
Sometimes lies were honorable.
Because how would he explain that he had desperately wanted to go after that damn bar wench, though his rum-drenched memory of her had become fuzzy at best
Except for the kiss.
That kiss which had awakened every bone, every sinew in his body, and yet left him empty, needing more. And in the brutal morning light, that kiss had also awakened guilt, anger, betrayal. Because he was never supposed to long for another woman after losing Milah. He was never supposed to desire anything more than he desired his vengeance for her cruel death.
Milah was his one true love. She had to have been. Or else the years spent chasing after the Dark One had been in vain. They couldn’t have been in vain.
But they were.
He had tried to ignore the inexplicable pull that had him sailing ever toward Emma after their paths first crossed. (Again.) He’d clung to his hatred of Rumple, his memories of Milah. But Emma had been a siren call—his siren call. Impossible to resist.
And when she kissed him in Neverland…
He remembered, though he didn’t know how she could have been the same woman. Not until they sat in the tavern together, scheming over how to distract his former self.
She was always meant to go back. She was always meant to be the first chink in his protective armor built out of anguish and loss and revenge—armor molded at the death of his brother and tempered by the demise of his lover.
Armor which Emma had removed piece by piece, until he stood before her shamelessly, heart in his hands.
But he was a pirate and lacked the eloquence to give her this truth. And she hadn’t chosen him—not yet.
The lie was easier.
Today on Text Alert: Jane successfully evades youweremadetoberuled's queries into her love life (which she brought up first two chats ago), and youweremadetoberuled successfully aggravates Jane by persistent use of Norwegian.
Translations (for which I deeply apologize to native speakers):
- Hver dag vi er fra hverandre, jeg dør litt. = Every day we are apart, I die a little.
- Det er helt greit. Jeg kan gjøre dette hele natten. = It’s okay. I can do this all night.
- Jeg vedder på at du er vakker når du er oppskjørtet. Jeg kan tenke meg kinnene alle rosenrød som du kjefte på meg. = I bet you’re beautiful when you’re flustered. I imagine your cheeks all rosy as you yell at me.
Today on Text Alert: youweremadetoberuled alludes to having a bad day, and Jane learns how to use Google Translate in her favor—or so she believes.
(I apologize for the length of this chat. I’m procrastinating other writing at the moment.)
- min vakre vitenskapsmann = my beautiful scientist
- Jeg ønsker å høre din latter. = I want to hear your laughter.
- Du er sønn av en morløs geit. = You son of a motherless goat.
- Jeg elsker deg også, min brennende en. = I love you too, my fierce one.
Today on Text Alert: youweremadetoberuled proves, as always, that he is a cad at heart, and the merits of beauty versus intelligence are discussed. (Despite her protestations, Jane respects him just the teensiest bit more after this chat—but that may just be the wine speaking.)
Min vakre vitenspaksmann = My beautiful scientist.
Today on “Text Alert”: youweremadetoberuled adds flirting in Norwegian to his repertoire on his quest to make Jane blush. (He succeeds again.)
(ETA: Since everyone is not able to see the tags, I’ll add the translation here. Loki says, “I’m bad in all the right ways.” And then he calls her “fiery one” at the end.)
In which youweremadetoberuled gets the tiniest bit flirty (and makes Jane blush when she uses Google Translate on his parting words).
And the saga continues (this time on youweremadetoberuled's phone app).
In a fit of boredom one night (and a generous glass of wine), Jane finds herself in a chat room for her old alumni where she meets a charming, witty man who graduated a few years ahead of her. And who understands her username.
So begins an online friendship filled with easy banter and the occasional bad joke (and no personal information beyond the general descriptions of their professions). As Jane’s life is thrown into a tailspin of burgeoning success in the scientific community, finally catching the eye of her secret crush, and having to deal with the most arrogant, awful man in the private sector who controls her new funding, she lives for the respite of her near daily chats with youweremadetoberuled.
Only, the line between friendship and something more has begun to blur. And he may not be all she thinks he is.
It’s about 99% likely that I will make this into a full fic. (So, nobody snag this without checking with me first, pretty, pretty please!) But for now, I’ll be posting some of their chats.
- 12 AM: not tired
- 1 AM: not tired
- 2 AM: not tired
- 3 AM: not tired
- 4 AM: not tired
- 5 AM: not tired
- 6 AM: not ti... zzzzzzzzzzz
- 7 AM: *ALARM CLOCK*