Title: Establishing Routines (Prologue)

Rating: G

Summary: Emma's daily routines are a matter of habit. When she wakes up late one morning, her routines all change for the better. Killian doesn't care about routines, but he does care about Emma.

Prologue: Just setting the stage.

A/N: I was going to wait. Really, I was. I have so much to do, still, that I shouldn't even be thinking about this story until my thesis is approved by the grad studies department, but I'm still riding off the high of defending it on Wednesday, and this fic has been burning a hole in me. Prologue today, Chapter 1 tomorrow. I'm afraid this bit is a little boring. Apologies!

PROLOGUE: Establishing Routines

She's all about routines. This one is no different than the others. It's something that happens every day, like the way she washes her dishes and sets up her coffee maker for the next morning. A month ago, after a week of this event, it became just another slice of what makes her day, well, complete.

Every morning Emma Swan wakes up and prepares for her day. She walks out the door, and begins making her way to her office. Her heels are tucked inside the satchel thrown over her shoulder, a pair of beat up Converse contrasting with the business-casual outfits she wears to work.

Residential streets slowly turn to something more bustling and Emma heads down the path she's grown used to since starting her job four months ago. She approaches what can barely be called a city from the south and stands at the corner. She peeks to the right, waiting for her favorite routine.

As she waits for the crosswalk sign, she sees him walk up. He's on the opposite side waiting for the same thing. The green man shows up, they both still check both ways, and they both cross at the same speed. On the other side of the street, in front of the library, she turns right and he turns left. They pass each other, nod and smile in silent greeting, and both go their separate ways.

Monday through Friday, Emma passes the stranger. They never speak. The nod and smile is all they ever give each other, and they apparently both decide it's enough. She never peeks back to see where he's heading. She's also secretly afraid she will catch him doing the same, or maybe he won't be looking, and she's not ready for that kind of rejection.

As that thought passes through her mind, Emma snorts and picks up her pace. She knows if she makes it to the building her office is housed in within the next five minutes, there will be an empty elevator with her name on it.

She prefers when they're empty over being plastered to the side or, worse, against the back of the cramped space with the handrail pressing into her back. It doesn't help that there's a gym on the top floor of the building, and some patrons think that because they are going to get sweaty that they shouldn't bother to shower in the first place. And while the smell lingers even when the gym goers aren't there, at least it'll be less of an issue if she can get the elevator to herself.

The next day, Emma discovers how easy it is to throw off the delicate balance of a routine as strong as hers. The alarm never goes off, or if it does, Emma either doesn't hear it or turns it off in her sleep. She wakes, instead, to the sound of Ruby pounding on her bedroom door and alerting her to the fact that she normally leaves in fifteen minutes.

As soon as her eyes are open, she sets herself in motion in an attempt to get out the door on time. It's a challenge, especially when she turns on the shower and discovers that their hot water is out for some reason, and in her hurry to get through her morning rituals, she gets shampoo in her eye. After a stack of disasters, Emma gets out the door ten minutes late and she practically sprints down the street. She's going to get stuck in an elevator full of sweaty assholes. She's going to get yelled at for being late. She's going to miss seeing him. It's that last thought that pushes her a little faster down the street.

When she gets to their corner, she's confused to see him on the other side of the street, anxiously pacing back and forth and checking his watch. She stops short a few feet from the crosswalk and stares at him, and she's sure her jaw is on the ground at this point. He couldn't be waiting for her. He's probably just running late and waiting for the signal, she thinks. Because the other option is just absurd. He looks up then and makes eye contact with her and stops mid-pace. She's sure she's imagining how his entire demeanor calms instantly at the sight of her. The signal changes, and they cross as they normally would.

She turns right, he turns left, and they smile and nod. She looks a little longer than necessary at his blue eyes and then is tempted to run the rest of the way to her office. She makes it three steps past her stranger before she hears him clear his throat behind her.

"Excuse me, miss?" The hesitant voice makes her turn around to see him standing right where she passed him. "Um, I'm Killian. Killian Jones." He holds his hand out, not moving from his spot. As if he isn't attractive enough already, he has an accent that she would consider swoon-worthy, if she was the type to swoon.

She takes a cautious step towards him, reaching out her hand to shake his. Normally, men shake her hand like they're handling something delicate and fragile, but he takes hers firmly, shaking it like he means to make a deal, and she tries to keep her appreciation for the gesture off her face.

"I'm—" She's interrupted by her phone ringing in her other hand and she glances down to see her boss's name popping up on the screen. "Incredibly late. I'm so sorry." She drops his hand and starts backing away, intent on running the final block she has to go before his voice stops her again.

"Is there another name I can call you by, Incredibly Late?" His smile is so brilliant at his own joke that she finds her lips tilting up a little in response.

"Emma Swan," she calls out before she finally turns and starts running.

"See you tomorrow, Miss Swan!" she hears from behind her as she turns the corner.