The War at Home

[Emma Macmillan]

The maid looked scared, and Emma almost - almost - felt bad. It was not easy to work for them. It was not easy to be them, either, but by now Emma supposed that they probably deserved this. They provoked each other and made petty mistakes on purpose and Emma sometimes thought that she only really liked him in that electric moment right before he let go of all attempts at peace.

The moment passed.

"Ha!" Emma said, letting out a bark of laughter that was not even a real laugh. "I intentionally order tea that I like because not everyone is so -"

damn

"- particular, Killian."

Her lip curled with derision and she pushed herself back from the table, as though she was about to leave the room.

She didn't, of course.

"You take the paper first on purpose and read it as slowly as you possibly can just to spite me!"

  

[Killian Macmillan]

"Particular?!" he spat. There were so many reasons that statement was ridiculous and he couldn't pick which one to go with. To start with tea was supposed to be particular but he hated how she took his phrasing and used it against him. He didn't care if she ordered the tea. He cared that she had a whole pot of it made for them to share at breakfast. "You only took a liking to it when you found out I dislike it!"

He narrowed his eyes, watching her movements. He wasn't aware of the dueling desires to watch her go and to stop her if she went to walk out, he only knew he was very keen on whether she was going to try. "You do everything in your power to make it impossible for me to read. You have to know the speed at which I read is your doing!"

  

[Emma Macmillan]

"I liked it before I even met you!" Emma protested. She was also fairly certain that that was true - she didn't always try to make Killian's life miserable. It just sort of happened.

"If you didn't have such a victim-complex about everything you would know that!" Why was everything always her fault? She knew he blamed her for Megara's health - for the miscarriage - and as much as she blamed herself it would have been nice if she wasn't the only person -

- and maybe she only suspected, but because they didn't talk about it.

"Oh yes, it's my fault, of course it's my fault that you read that slowly - keep telling yourself that, Killian, whatever you need to do to convince yourself that I'm always the villain." She rolled her eyes and stood up from the table and turned to walk out - but she wasn't entirely sure that he would let her.

  

[Killian Macmillan]

Like a coiled spring, Killian rose from his seat the moment she did. He wasn't sure what he was doing or why he needed to cut her off but somehow her walking away was more dismissive than her words. It always boiled down to this. It was his fault. He was terrible. She was evil. It was so strange. They had actually agreed to this marriage. No one was forced or coerced. There had to have been a time when they'd liked each other and the morning paper and a pot of tea didn't send them at each other's throats.

"Emma, darling." he said through gritted teeth, standing between her and the door. He put far too much thought into what to call her by: her first name was almost scandalously intimate but calling her Mrs. Macmillan held just a hint of possession. Such subtleties were a weapon to be wielded.

He took a step closer until there was hardly a hint of personal space between them, holding eye in true stand off form. "Before you go..." He held the folded newspaper to her stomach for her to take. "I expect to be home in time for supper." And turned his head just slightly, to receive what would seem to be a commonplace kiss on the cheek from a doting wife.

  

[Emma Macmillan]

Emma took the paper cautiously, as though it was a trap. It was only when he turned his head that she knew for sure that she had lost - there was no way for her to argue without being, hands down, the worst person in this scenario. She could only concede.

He had offered his cheek but Emma pressed a kiss to his lips. If she was going to admit defeat she was going to do it in style - and if style was to be casually intimate after a fight like the one they had just had, then so be it.

"Thank you for informing me, Killian," she said, taking a step back, "I'll be sure to let the cook know."

And with that, she stepped around him and exited the room.