reverse psychology

onceuponamirror:

At first it was cute. Then it got cold.

His Swan has always had a penchant for leather—it was one of the first things he noticed about her. One of the first things he loved. 

He loves her jackets. The maroon one she wore on their beanstalk journey, the red one she wore when their love was weighed. 

As it turns out, she loves his jackets too. The long pirate coat he’s long traded out is sometimes found on the couch, occasionally with Emma wrapped up underneath it. He finds it cute, especially when she tips her jaw up and wrinkles her nose and mumbles she couldn’t find a blanket and would you stop looking so smug.

And then she gets her hands on his new jacket. The one he’d spent hours looking for in preparation for their first date. The one he lived and died in. The one that represents his new life, his new loves. 

And it’s cute, really, when he finds her wearing it around the house. It’s still cute when it disappears for errands with her. It’s still cute when it starts to gather the falling snow on her shoulders as they walk to the station.

He realizes it’s not as cute on his walk home. She’d tried to give it back before he left, neither realizing it’d been about to snow, but it’d be even colder and darker when she needed to go home and he insisted she should keep it. 

It’s cute, but he’s cold.

–

So he buys a new jacket. It’s a deep matte black, and the label says it’s for “motorcycles,” which he thinks are the two wheeled death traps he’s seen the wooden man-child riding around on. 

It also happens to be a woman’s jacket, but the shoulders are oversized and that suits his plan all the better. 

So he strolls home in it, greets his Swan in it, cooks her dinner in it. 

And then he hangs it up, carefully, pretending she’s not watching. 

It’s missing the next morning when he goes to dress, but his favorite, shiny little jacket remains on the hanger. So he slips into it, and goes downstairs, where he finds Emma sipping her coffee in the new jacket.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she says quickly when she sees him. “I just—”

He waves her off and sets about getting his own cup of coffee. “Think nothing of it, love. It looks good on you,” he says happily, unable to keep the smirk from his lips, thinking how well his plan has gone.

And—he should’ve known better, because an open book goes both ways, but he knows the jig is up the second her eyes narrow. “You tricked me!” 

He sips his coffee to hide his smile. “Sorry love, I did need my jacket back at some point, and I was beginning to worry I’d have to start wearing the pirate coat again. I’d hate to start mixing eras, you know how I like to stay with what’s in vogue.” 

She frowns. “You could’ve said. I have plenty of my own jackets.” 

“Aye,” he agrees, “but now you have one more.” 

Emma laughs and rises from her seat, swaggering towards him. He loves the way the jacket cuts at her curves, the way it sways with her. “And you like that we match, admit it.” 

He admits it. It’s cute. 

Among other things.