A Curse Upon Thee 12

His mouth cracked open, jaw popping as he yawned loud and proud. One hand wandered down to scratch the crack of his ass as the other shoved a pillow into a shape that actually supported a human head.

The morning after felt like waking up on a different planet. The sheets were cool, clean cotton that smelled like lavender and… her. Finn stretched again, happy to lay his shirtless stomach on top of it all, even happier to be a whole damn universe away from the damp, gritty concrete of the cannery.

No more fish guts and despair.

No more cold nights and dim walls.

Just sunshine and softness; morning air heavy with dust motes visible through the window as the early light painted a warm, golden stripe across a floral-print comforter.

It was soft. 

It was domestic.

It was making his skin itch.

Well, that wasn’t exactly what was doing it. Finn groaned as his hand left his butt to rub a little bit higher, the faint, crisscrossing sting of Ruby’s scratches on his back still raised from last night’s little roughhousing…

And then the one around midnight.

And then the one this morning.

Fair trade, honestly. It really was, as much as he wanted to complain. If anything, it felt like a pleasant, grounding ache; a reminder that last night wasn’t just a fever dream brought on by hypothermia and loneliness. 

The scratcher in question was already downstairs. She had woken up way earlier than he did, mentioning she had to handle the breakfast shift, before she rushed out the door. Considering he could hear the faint clatter of dishes, he could bet she was still busy. 

I’m gonna be stuck in this room for a while, huh… Red hair hung in his face at the thought, lips pursed as he allowed the thought to sink in. No other choice, not gonna lie. Considering Momma Mayor still wanted his head on a pike and his heart for her cauldron, roaming around Storybrooke was just the worst idea on top of that. Rather take a knife to the thigh than go all Tarzan again, too.

Finn opened his mouth again, a slight puff of air leaving him in a sigh. …eh.

With a mental shrug, the teenager glanced down, eyes falling on the cheap plastic burner phone propped against a pillow; the little thing Emma had given him flipped open and absolutely useless, just a dead plastic brick. Next to it was the greatest gift he’d gotten in the last few hours, all shiny and candy red. 

Ruby’s smartphone sat there, a sleek little window into a world that felt both familiar and completely alien.

He had to hold back from laughing like a maniac when Bee had tossed it to him before she headed downstairs, staring at the thing in his hands like it was a precious gift. And why wouldn’t he? It was a smartphone; his key back to a reality he barely remembered. 

Unfortunately, it was a key back to a reality he barely remembered.

Nothing really came to mind about what he wanted to do with it after the first five minutes, which spoke a lot about his imagination. Even Youtube didn’t exactly seem all that interesting. He’d even tried to look up news for a bit — Boston Globe, CNN, anything to spark a memory — but it only took another five to get bored of that real quick.

Everything was just politics he didn’t care about, celebrities he didn’t know about, and weather that never really changed, considering it was Maine. But past that, nothing interesting; no news about curses, jujutsu, or invisible energy.

Now, he scrolled through a shopping site, thumb flicking past images with a practiced ease that reminded him how much he needed a phone of his own. Need some clothes… 

That much was a given. His red windbreaker was a tattered, mud-stained rag that probably was more biohazard than anything else at this point after a week in the woods. His jeans weren’t much better, day after day of sleeping in them and on dust and dirt. Being a man without a past was one thing, but being a man without a good outfit was just way too far.

He could at least fix one of them.

Finn paused on a page, screen going dark for a second and his own reflection staring right back at him. Long, chaotic red hair spread out against the white pillowcase like a bloodstain, bright blue eyes flickering back. The screen flicked back on as the page finally loaded, those same eyes roaming for something familiar, a style that felt like him.

Thing is, he had no idea what the hell that was. Who dresses you, Finn? The Gap or the gutter?

The bedroom door creaked open and a voice came with it, a low triumphant purr trailing down his spine and pulling him from his thoughts. “Hey, Cherry Boy…” 

Finn glanced over his shoulder as Ruby slid in the room, a lazy smirk already forming on his face-. 

“Guess who I found?”

-only for it to fall away just as quickly as a head of blond hair followed Ruby Lucas right into the room.

Emma Swan.

Finn rolled his eyes as hard as he could ever remember, letting his head fall back onto the pillow with a soft thump. “Oh, come the fuck on.” The woman who’d run him over. The woman who’d saved him from a jail cell. The woman who was now, apparently, the goddamn Sheriff.

Emma’s eyes widened as she took in the scene — him, shirtless, sprawled in Ruby’s bed like he owned the lease — and she immediately slapped a hand over her face, spinning around with a flustered squeak that was decidedly un-Sheriff-like.

“Mind putting some clothes on first?” 

Finn glanced down at his bare chest, then at the pair of plain red boxers he was wearing, and clicked his tongue. One hand gestured vaguely at the sad, crumpled pile of fabric on the floor that used to be his outfit. “What clothes?” He drawled out the last word with a single raised eyebrow aimed Emma’s way. “They’re all kinda messed up from my recent, uh… extended camping trip.” 

A smirk found itself back on his lips. “You know. The one you sponsored.”

“Something, then.” Emma refused to turn around even still, the woman’s words as insistent as she was.

“Oh, get over it.” He pushed himself up with a scoff as loud as the bedsprings, leaning back against the wooden headboard and crossing his arms behind his head. “I mean, I probably had my hand on your ass for like half an hour walking into town that first night.”

Emma dropped her hand from her face all at once, the woman whipping around to glare at him with angry green eyes. “You what?”

Ruby snorted from the doorway.

“H-hey, I’m joking,” Finn’s hands went up as quickly as he spoke the words. “I’m joking. Relax, Sheriff. I mean, I doubt I did, but even if I did, I don’t remember it anyway.” He tapped his temple with a grin. “Brain damage.” 

The wink at the end was cheesing it but he felt like he deserved it.

 “God, you’re…” Emma sighed, a long, suffering sound, pinching the bridge of her nose like she had a migraine coming on. “You’re just…”

“I know, right?” Ruby supplied as she leaned up against the doorframe, a smile on her face that Emma clearly didn’t share. “Isn’t he the best?”

Emma shot the younger woman a look that was equal parts annoyed and tired, as her shoulders slumped with a tired, “…sure.” Green eyes inched their way back to Finn on the bed, that professional Sheriff-face warring with a very clear, very human desire to strangle him. “Just… a…a shirt. Please.”

“Fine, fine, fine…”

Finn swung his legs out of the bed, red boxer briefs all on display, and walked around the other side to grab the least-dirty t-shirt from the pile — a black one that only smelled a little like pine needles. With a sigh as heavy as the cloth wasn’t, he pulled it on over his head and shot Emma a look of his own. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“You two have your little talk, okay?” The deadpan from the sheriff made Ruby’s grin only widen further as she pushed off the door. “I’m gonna go grab you some lunch, Cherry Boy.” She blew Finn a kiss as she disappeared down the hall, his ears going red as Emma raised an eyebrow high.

Bee…

“Cherry Boy, huh?” He held back a flinch as that eyebrow of hers went even higher. “What’s that about?”

“…n-not important, not really.” Finn cleared his throat. “What can I do for you this morning, Sheriff Swan? This an arrest?” It obviously wasn’t, or Emma wouldn’t have come alone, but he wasn’t gonna let her get one over on him like that.

The Sherriff of Storybrooke cleared her throat, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her red leather jacket, suddenly seeming out of her element again. “So,” that eyebrow lowered as Emma kicked one foot against the floor, avoiding eye contact. “You’re clear. Officially.”

Finn leaned against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest as his smirk faded. “Am I now?”

“Graham’s coroner report… it was finalized this morning. And as the sheriff, I was the first to see it.” Her voice was all business, one finger tapping at her side. “Cause of death was a massive, spontaneous cardiac arrest. Natural causes. Reg… the mayor reviewed it, and signed off on everything. So…” Emma let out a sigh. “That’s it. Case closed. No more investigation, and no more person of interest.”

Blue eyes narrowed her way, Finn searching Emma’s face as he let the silence stretch. Uh-huh.

“You’re a free man, Finn.” She almost sounded pleading as she said it, as if begging him to take the win. “You can walk out the front door.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” His words were all facts, clean and cold and stripped of anything close to a joke. “That report’s a lie. A lie. She murdered him, and now she’s covering it up. And you,” he took a step closer, eyes narrowed, “you’re helping her. Why?”

The question was a physical thing, a finger-jab aimed right where it hurt. “What’s it like, Emma? Huh? Being a flying monkey for the Wicked Bitch of the East?”

For a second, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, breaking through her otherwise stony expression. “Wow, you’re just throwing these out now. You workshopping a tight five?” A sigh left her again as she shook her head. “That was good, I’ll give you that.” 

Then, just as quickly, the professional mask was back in place. “I’m not working for her, Finn. I’m working in spite of her.”

“Sounds the same from where I’m standing.” He gestured around Ruby’s half-messy room. “A room I wouldn’t be in if you hadn’t found me in the woods. You know she’s guilty. I know it too. So why the hell would you take a job that makes you her attack dog?”

“Because it was the only move I h-had!” she snapped back at him. “I didn’t want any of this. I barely want to be in this town.” A grunt slid past grit teeth before she opened her mouth again, clearly more on her mind. “Who would you rather have with the job, me or some loyal stooge, some Blackwood goon who would have spent all day and all night hunting you down? Someone who she could have used to make my life, and yours, a living hell. By taking the badge, I took that power away from her.”

Emma paced the small space between the bed and the door; each step was angry as her boots stomped against the wood, hands gesturing emphatically. “Nothing about this is about serving her, you idiot. I’m the Sheriff now. That means I have access. I have authority. I have a gun and a badge that says I’m allowed to ask questions she doesn’t want answered. And I can protect people like you from being her next scapegoat.”

She clicked her tongue again, Finn blinking as he was fixed with a hard glare. “I get the amnesia, but I also don’t think it gave you that much brain damage.”

Finn swallowed, thinking slowly at everything Emma had just thrown his way. Damn… He’d be lying if he couldn’t see the logic in it. He still didn’t trust the system, at least not any system with anyone like Regina on the top of the heap.

But Emma… Emma wasn’t the system and she wasn’t even local. Like him, she was just a stranger to this place and fighting the only way she knew how. 

Finn McHale let out a long, slow breath, all the anger nowhere to go but out as it drained out of him. Okay, now I feel stupid and like a dick. Blue eyes flicked over and out the window, looking down at the quiet, sun-drenched street of Storybrooke below.

All normal.

All peaceful.

And all a total lie.

“Okay,” he sighed again, the word sliding out with the breath. 

“So you’re the Sheriff now.” He turned his head, blue eyes meeting her green. The sarcastic armor was gone; no humor, no joke, nothing else but an intensity he couldn’t call anything else but serious.

“Yes,” Emma nodded back at him, “and this sheriff needs your help.”

Finn raised one eyebrow. “With what?”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Both his eyebrows went high as they could go as he stared in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him; clean, neat and finally fully clothed. Wow…

One hand reached down as he patted a pair of bright blue denim jeans that fit without sagging and a simple black t-shirt that hugged his chest. Over that shirt, though, was a jacket.

Fine leather stained a deep blood-red that felt more like a second skin than anything else, it was different from the one Emma wore all over the place. Emma’s was bright red, a vibant scarlet that stood out everywhere she went, but other than that… pretty much the same jacket.

Dress code for the police office seemed to be Emma’s choice. Red leather only. Must be emotionally damaged to apply.

Definitely not a replacement for his old windbreaker — nothing could replace that ratty piece of history — but it definitely felt like an upgrade.

His right hand bounced his silver badge, popping it up in the air and catching it again in a single smooth move. It landed heavy and solid against his skin, the cheap metal of the badge denser than it looked but still cool in his palm. DEPUTY.

The word felt alien. 

A costume piece from some play he hadn’t really auditioned for. Well. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. He clicked his tongue and let out a sharp breath. And then beat ’em from the inside.

With a decisive click, Finn McHale pinned the badge to the lapel of his new jacket and looked right back at his reflection as it sat there, a glint of silver against the dark red leather, looking both completely wrong and perfectly right.

A pair of pale arms snaked around his midsection from behind, a warm body pressing against his back. Finn met Ruby’s eyes in the mirror as she rested her chin on his shoulder, a wolfish grin on her face in full force, looking at him like he was the best thing she’d seen all day.

“You were cute as a felon,” she purred against his ear, something in her voice that made him shiver. “But I kinda like the man in uniform look, too.”

“Yeah?” He turned around a planted a kiss on her. “Get used to it.”