A/N: A million thanks to everyone who has taken the time to tell me how much they have enjoyed this story. I am quite overwhelmed by the love it has received, despite now being MONTHS after the holiday for which it was written. My beloved beta tnlph has been instrumental in getting this out there and for that I cannot thank her enough.
Part Five
The tall glass of water and the aspirin on her bedside table came into focus before anything else in her bedroom. The thumping in Emma's head felt like some horrific death metal concert and the arid wasteland that was her mouth was beyond anything she had ever experienced. What the hell had been in that punch of Granny's?
She blinked her eyes open, the rest of the room slowly coming into view. The red covered book was also on the nightstand and she reached out her hand to carefully stroke the raised lettering, her stomach swooping at the thought of his words and his inscription and his arms around her...
His kiss. Her lips burned at the thought and she ran a finger along them at the memory, a dull aching need still evident as she relived his lips pressed hard on hers.
And then she remembered everything.
Her face flushed red as his rejection came flooding back through her mind. He knew how hard it was for her to let go, to open up, to take a chance and he had pushed her away. He didn't want her - well, part of him didn't, she thought, the memory of the part that so obviously had burned into her brain - and just as she had feared she had blown any chance she had of salvaging the comfortable friendship they had away from here.
Merry fucking Christmas to her.
Emma rolled over, steeling herself in preparation for seeing him there, her head swimming with a mix of hangover and embarrassment. But the other side of the bed was empty and as she lay in the quiet, faint sounds of talking drifted up from the living room.
It was sorely tempting to pull the covers over her head and hide - how was she going to face him, pretend to be part of this wonderful relationship for the benefit of her family when she could not imagine even looking him in the eye? She was humiliated - thinking she had seen signs that he had come to feel the same when they obviously weren't there.
And then there was the prospect of endless hours in the cramped conditions of her bug as they made their way home. A sigh escaped her lips as she sat up gingerly, rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to stop the throbbing.
She was certain of one thing.
He was going to have to drive.
"Merry Christmas, sis," David called out as she descended the stairs. A long shower and the aspirin had made some inroads in making her feel more human, but neither had been sufficient to deal with his booming voice at this time of the morning.
She grunted in response.
"Ah, just like old times," her brother joked to Killian who was perched at the counter, steaming coffee cup in his hand."That was virtually the soundtrack of Emma's teenage years."
"Oh, leave her alone." Mary Margaret slapped her husband playfully as she placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. "Looks like Granny's rum punch claimed another victim."
Emma nodded, regretting the quick movement as soon as she had done it. She held her head as she climbed onto the stool next to David, the smell of the fresh cooked pancakes making her mouth water and her stomach churn at the same time.
Hunger won the day - barely.
"Did you find the little gift I left for you, Swan?" Killian asked as she drizzled syrup on her breakfast. His voice was level and even, no sign of discomfort at all, although there was definitely a tinge of amusement at her self-inflicted pain. She assumed he meant the pills and water and she hummed a reply without making eye contact.
Mary Margaret wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulder and leaned her head in close. "I wish you didn't have to go so soon. It's so lovely having you here." She smiled across at Killian. "And you, too. Talk about a perfect match."
Emma shrugged away from her sister-in-law, glancing at Killian briefly before returning her attention to her pancakes. He was watching her, his brow knotted in what looked like confusion.
She couldn't imagine why. He had seemed very sure of what he wanted - or didn't want - earlier.
Finished with his breakfast, he moved towards her, hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned in close. Emma tensed, hoping he would move away, hoping her own traitorous skin would stop sparking at his touch, but he was nothing if not persistent.
"All right, Swan?" he asked quietly. "You seem a bit on edge even by your standards." He chuckled lightly with this, but his attempt to lighten the mood was met by deaf ears.
"I'm fine. We don't have time for this," she snapped. "We have a long drive and we better get going soon." Her abrupt response was enough to make him step back, withdrawing his hands and thrusting them deep into his pockets.
"Whatever you like, Swan." His narrowed eyes scanned her face, but she just stared back, daring him to question her. There was a moment when she thought he would, that he would probe further and risk her anger - but he stepped further away, his head bowed.
"I'll go and collect our belongings from upstairs, then, shall I?"
"You do that." He turned and went and Emma felt her bottom lip tremble. How quickly they had fallen apart. She had worked so hard to keep him at a distance and when she had finally realised she wanted him, that she needed him, it was him who had stepped away. She wiped an errant tear from the corner of her eye, hoping against hope that Mary Margaret hadn't seen her moment of weakness.
He was back with their bags as she drained the last drops of her coffee.
"Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?" Mary Margaret asked with a pout. David squeezed his wife's shoulder comfortingly before reaching out to fold his sister into his arms.
"Don't be a stranger," he said to her. "There's still plenty of Storybrooke this guy hasn't seen." Letting Emma go, he clapped Killian on the back heartily with one hand, before seeming to weigh his options and pull him into a hug of his own.
"You'll come back for the Valentine's party at Granny's," Mary Margaret stated emphatically. "What better way to celebrate you two being so in love?" Emma sucked in a breath as she darted her eyes in Killian's direction. He was smiling at Mary Margaret, seemingly agreeing that they would, indeed, be back for the celebration. Emma looked at each of them in turn - David, his warm smile directed at the boyfriend who wasn't, Mary Margaret with her eyes shining at the thought of true love and Killian...well, Killian's handsome face was tinged with confusion, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
"No." Emma's voice was quiet but firm. They all turned to look at her, questions evident on their faces.
"Swan?" Killian was first to break the stunned silence.
"No. We're not coming back for that. Because there is no 'we' - we're not a couple, we're not in love. God, I don't even like him half the time, he's so fucking annoying." She could feel momentum building, ignoring the hurt in Killian's eyes at her words.
"What are you talking about, Emma?" Mary Margaret moved close to her husband, her face clouded with concern.
"Yes, Emma, what do you mean?" David held his wife, his eyes darting between Emma and Killian, who stood a few steps away, his jaw clenching with tension as he waited for her to continue.
Emma took a deep breath, blowing the air out forcefully as she realised she had no choice but to finish her confession. "It was a moment of weakness - you wanted me to have someone so badly I decided to give you what you wanted. And Killian agreed to help me. It's all fake, all pretend. He doesn't love me and I don't love him. We are friends, no more."
There was a look that passed between her brother and sister-in-law that Emma decided not to analyse at that moment. She was breathing heavily, unsure what else to say and unable to look at her co-conspirator, the man she had just blatantly lied about to her family.
Because the deep aching in her heart was telling her with certainty that her loving Killian Jones was the absolute truth.
There was an uneasy silence in the apartment. Again, it was Killian who broke it.
"Right, well, I suppose it is good to have that all out in the open. Honesty is always the best policy and all that." Emma looked away quickly as his eyes met hers, something pointed in his expression making her decidedly uncomfortable. She was relieved when he turned his attention to David and Mary Margaret. "For my part, I apologise for deceiving you both when you have been so welcoming and gracious to me. This may have been ill-advised as plans go, but please know I had Emma's best interests at heart. I'll take my leave and meet you at the car, Swan."
He turned and gathered their bags without another word. Before he could leave the room, however, Mary Margaret wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Emma was almost sure she heard her whisper the word "Bullshit" in his ear, but her sister-in-law was the picture of innocence when he was gone.
Emma turned to face her brother, who stood with his arms folded across his chest, lips pursed in disapproval. "I'm sorry, David. This whole thing was completely stupid."
"I'm sorry, too," he said. Emma cocked her head in confusion, unsure what her brother could possibly have to be sorry about. He continued before she could ask the question. "I'm sorry you are so damned blind. We already had this conversation and I meant it then and I mean it now. I don't know what happened between the two of you last night -" he held up a hand to her in case she was tempted to enlighten him - "no, I don't want to know, either. But there is nothing fake about what you two have no matter how determined you are to say it is. And if you don't grab this thing with both hands and run with it then you are crazy."
Emma looked to her sister-in-law, hoping that somehow she might find an ally under this kind of attack from her brother but Mary Margaret stood firm, arms crossed over her chest, nodding her agreement pointedly.
"You too?" Emma asked her. Mary Margaret's face softened slightly and she pulled Emma into a hug, hand rubbing comfortably between her shoulder blades.
"Do not let that man slip through your fingers because you are too scared to let him in, Emma. Do not."
The pain of his rejection came flooding back, a single tear sliding silently down her cheek as she let herself relax in Mary Margaret's arms. "There's nothing to let slip," she whispered, "He's not interested in me like that."
The derisive snort at these words from Mary Margaret was something to behold. She pushed Emma gently away, fingers gripping her shoulders tightly as she looked unflinchingly into Emma's green eyes.
"I said it to him and I will say it to you. Bullshit." Over Mary Margaret's shoulder, Emma could see her brother nodding emphatically now, eyebrows raised knowingly as he stared her down, clearly in complete agreement with his wife. They had this tag team thing down, Emma thought, as she bowed her head and avoided the full impact of their attention for just a moment.
Mary Margaret pulled Emma close again, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and hugging her tight. Her sister-in-law's voice was soft in her ear, soft but insistent. "We love you, Emma, but you are wrong about this. You have a long, long drive ahead of you and I highly recommend you use it to talk to him and sort this out." Pulling back, she turned Emma in the direction of the door, giving her a small shove to get her moving.
She looked back at the couple, doubt still clear on her face. No matter how hard they tried to convince her she was wrong, the memory of turning away from him, skin still burning with desire as her heart crumbled, was impossible to ignore. She gave them a half-hearted wave as she reached the door. "Merry Christmas," she said with a sigh.
"We will see you for Valentine's," Mary Margaret stated. "Both of you."
The contrast with their trip only days ago was not lost on Emma. Killian had taken the keys from her without a word, sliding into the driver's seat with a look that she knew would brook no argument.
There was no idle chatter, no mad suppositions this time, just the relentless drumbeat of the classic rock playlist he had started on his ipod and the occasional curse word under his breath as he wrestled with the bug's temperamental steering. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass as the miles slipped away, her thoughts heavy in the silence.
They stopped for gas and to stretch their legs midway through their journey, both heading in opposite directions as soon as they got out of the car. When Killian headed into the roadhouse, Emma escaped to the bathroom, leaning heavily on the sink as she examined her face in the mirror. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her skin looking every bit as tired and dehydrated as she felt. She splashed her face with water, dragged her hairbrush through her tousled hair, anything it took to make herself feel more normal.
It was all for nothing when she emerged to Killian leaning against the bug, his long legs outstretched as he stared off into the distance. Emma's breath caught in her throat, a clenching low in her belly reminding her just how much he meant to her.
And how spectacularly she had fucked the whole thing up.
As she got closer, he thrust a take away coffee towards her.
"Thought you might need a pick me up, Swan," he said quietly, the hint of a smile on his lips. Emma took the cup, warming her hands around it as she took a sip. Words were swirling around her head - so many things she wanted to say, to ask, to apologise for - but words were never her strong suit. Actions were her currency but the only thing she could think about was the one thing he had made it clear he didn't want.
It would have to be words.
"Killian, I - " she started, but when she paused he was quick to interject.
"No, Swan, it's all fine. As I said to David and Mary Margaret, better to have the truth out there and know where we stand. Shall we get going?"
He was gone and in the driver's seat before she could formulate anything else. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Emma slid in beside him, prepared for more uncomfortable silence.
He had ordered the coffee, just the way she liked it, without a second thought, forgetting that he was supposed to be hurt or angry or not falling right back into loving her with all his heart.
Too bloody late for that.
It took a studied effort not to stare as she emerged from the dingy gas station bathroom - hungover, clearly exhausted and yet still with the power to take his breath away. The scent of her was still on his skin, in his nostrils, all pervading and forcing his thoughts back to her body pressed against him, her kiss hungry and insistent. Everything he had wanted since almost the moment they met - but not if she needed to be rolling drunk to want it too.
Hangovers and regrets had been his prediction and it seemed his perceptive nature had got the better of him yet again.
He held the cup out to her with minimal eye contact, unsure if the idea of finding regret or pity on her face was more difficult to deal with. She had made her position abundantly clear to her family - how foolish she must think him, imagining there was something more than their pretence between them.
"Killian, I -" Emma began, but the thought of her talking about them being just friends, of her apologising for not returning his feelings was too much to bear. Not after he had slept with her in his arms, had kissed her like his life depended on it, had been part of her world and her home and her family. Not yet.
"No, Swan, it's all fine. As I said to David and Mary Margaret, better to have the truth out there and know where we stand. Shall we get going?"
He gave her no time to say more, just climbed back into the driver's seat and directed his attention to his iPod as she followed suit. She sighed deeply as she slouched down in her seat, head against the window and her body angled subtly away from him. Starting a conversation with him would not have been easy for her, he knew, and as much as he hated to use her insecurities to his advantage, knowing the chance of her trying again was minimal was a comfort.
It might at least get him through the rest of this drive, when her nearness was still setting his body on a crash course with the heart he was trying so hard to protect.
The music washed over him - nothing relaxed him more - and as INXS turned to Queen he found himself singing along, his voice quiet at first but building in power and volume as the distance to home grew shorter. As the opening strains of Bohemian Rhapsody sounded in the car, he realised Emma was humming along with him and a smile came unbidden to his face as he looked across at her. She shrugged apologetically but he gestured for her to continue and they both sang the familiar words, louder and louder as the song progressed.
Both were laughing as they reached the end. "Decided against participating in the head banging section, love?" he asked and she rolled her eyes at him, taking a pointed swig from her water bottle. He forgot everything for a moment, winking at her as he hit replay on the iPod, ready for another chance to feel a little of what they had before.
As he pulled the bug into the kerb outside their apartment building, he stopped, unsure of what, if anything to say. Emma saved him the worry by wasting no time in climbing out and unloading her bag from the back seat, before going back for his. He met her by the stairs, slipping the bags out of her hands with a very determined look and heading towards their floor.
At her door, he placed her bag down and waited for her to unlock her front door.
"Good evening, Swan. " he said as she stepped inside, turning towards his own door before he said or did something he might regret. The urge to lean in and kiss her had all but overwhelmed him and he knew retreat was his only option.
"Killian?"
He stopped mid step, taking in a deep breath as he realised his getaway was not complete. He turned slowly, finding Emma leaned against her doorframe, her expression hopeful as she twisted the ends of her blonde hair in her fingers.
"Yes, Swan?"
"Do you want to come in and watch Netflix or something? I feel pretty wired after the coffee and the travelling."
Oh God he wanted to, he wanted to laze on her couch and to pull her into his arms and to laugh with her and kiss her into oblivion…
"I don't think that's a good idea, Emma." Her face fell, confusion and hurt knotting her brows, her teeth embedded in her bottom lip as she watched him back away.
"I hoped we could get back to normal," she said quietly, her voice faltering. "I mean, back to how things were before, hanging out and whatever. The real stuff we do."
Those words hit him in the chest, all but knocking the air out of him. He took a couple of deep, deep breaths, watching as she picked at the sleeve of her jacket, avoiding his eyes. He ran his hand across his face, understanding the risk he would be taking if he said what he knew he needed to.
It wasn't enough reason not to.
"You see, that's the problem," he started, taking a step towards her. "It's all been real to me, Emma. All of it. Waking up with you, holding you in my arms, being with you around your family - I have dreamed of every one of those things for the longest time. I want all of that and I want it with you."
Emma's eyes were wide as he stepped towards her again, close enough to reach out a hand and lift her chin till her eyes were level with his. She said nothing, but he could see panic building in her face, and it was all he could do not to fold her into his arms and keep her there.
"I would never abandon you, love, and if you don't want those things with me it's ok. I get it. We'll go back to hanging out and our normal lives. But I need some time to look after my own heart just now. Can you give me that?"
She nodded slowly. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Swan. See you soon."
He turned and walked away, knowing he couldn't look back, not while the heart he had wanted to protect was breaking.
Inside his own apartment, he slumped against his door, as moments from their time in Storybrooke flashed through his mind. The surprise in her eyes as he had kissed her on the pavement outside the loft, the jolt of heat as she had thrust herself into his space and under his skin under the mistletoe. He slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, head in his hands. Her gift to him was poking out of his overnight bag, the sparkling gift bag drawing his attention and reminding him of her snuggled into his lap, for all the world a real couple in love.
Rather than just a man wrapped up in a hopeless cause.
The knock on the door came as he was twisting and turning the ship in a bottle in his hands, admiring the workmanship and the thought that had gone into the gift. No wonder he had started to imagine there was more.
"Killian?" came her voice through the door. He froze, shaking his head in disbelief as he dragged himself to his feet. Swinging open the door, he found her just about to knock again, the look on her face unreadable.
"Swan, you really shouldn't sell yourself short. I'm going to require a little more time than that to truly put my feelings for you to rest."
She took a step into his space, her breathing studied and even as her hand reached up to touch his face.
"I've got this invitation to a Valentine's party at Granny's," she whispered, her nose bumping his as her breath tickled the sensitive skin of his lips. "I'd really like you to go with me." She swayed slightly, her body leaning into his, as her tongue darted out across her lips.
Killian's heart was thumping in his chest, so loud he was sure she must be able to hear it. Her hand came to rest over it, it's steady rhythm grounding him as his world spun on its axis.
"I don't think I can pretend to be your boyfriend again, Emma." His voice was a growl, laden with desire as her hands snaked their way around his waist, subtly angling herself against him where he could feel his body stirring in response.
"I don't think I want you to pretend," she murmured against his lips, walking him backwards into his apartment as his hands wound their way into her hair, kicking the door closed behind her with a sharp tap of one booted foot.
The moan that escaped her lips as he nuzzled her neck with tongue and teeth echoed in the cramped space. "Don't you give me a hickey where everyone can see, Jones," she growled as his hand crept its way up and under her knit sweater, gently caressing the swell of her breast, following the line of her bra over the soft, smooth skin.
"A man needs his fun, Swan," he breathed, his fingers deftly pushing away the fabric to explore her more fully. "And besides, there's a shortage of perfect breasts in the world and it would be a shame to damage yours. So your delectable neck it must be."
"Have I ever told you I love it when you quote stuff at me?" she asked as his mouth moved up the column of her neck towards her own. Lips and hands worked in tandem, as Emma's skin cried out for his touch, nothing slow or hesitant about the way she ran her hands over his chest and under his jacket, relishing the feel of his strong shoulders under her fingers.
"Can't keep your hands off me, Swan?" Nothing in the low tone of his voice suggested he was at all worried about that fact.
"You wore the damn suit, buddy. You know what it does to me."
"I rely on what it does to you, love." He returned his attentions to kissing her, but Emma began to laugh. He pulled back, eyeing her curiously as she giggled to herself.
"Swan? I've not had that reaction to my romantic endeavours before, I must say."
"I was just thinking that if the suit has this effect on me, you had better watch your ass around Granny." He chuckled softly at the thought.
"Indeed. Literally, I fear."
Emma only nodded, looking up at the lighted window of David and Mary Margaret's apartment. The curtain shifted slightly and she grinned at the memory of the last time they had sat here, her nerves rooting her to the spot.
It was definitely something different keeping her here today.
A dark-haired, hot as hell something who had found his way into her heart and her life and her future. Emma ran her hand gently down his face, cupping his chin and resting her forehead on his.
"I love you," she whispered.
"And I you, Swan." He took her hand, kissing the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist before interlocking his fingers with hers. "Shall we go in and put David out of his misery? I'm sure we have given him some sort of conniption out here with the windows fogged up."
Emma grinned wickedly at him, wrapping her free hand around the back of his neck, her fingers twisting in his hair as she pulled him back to her lips. "Or perhaps you want me to bounce around a bit and really get him thinking?"
Killian laughed loudly. "There's nothing I'd like more, love. But I really think it's best not have a man registered to carry a weapon angry with me for publicly man-handling his sister."
"Coward." Emma pulled back, her hand dragging slowly across his chest one last time, toying with the top button on his dress shirt.
"Perhaps." He peered out of the car, looking up towards the apartment window where David was clearly silhouetted. "But as we'd best go in, stay there and I'll prove I am also a gentleman." He was out of the car and at her door before the keys were out of the ignition. She took his proffered hand, the love in his eyes enough to make her heart skip. They had come so far since they were last here, she thought, swaying into him in the hope he would take the hint and wrap his arms around her.
He didn't disappoint.
His lips brushed her forehead as she snaked her arms around his waist. Over Killian's shoulder, she could see her brother still watching from the window, and she glared at him at just the same moment as Mary Margaret appeared to move him along. Her sister-in-law grinned at her, giving Emma a thumbs up before dragging David away.
"We'd better go," she sighed.
"Before we do, Swan, I have one question for you." Emma couldn't read the look on his face, his eyes earnest but his mouth was twitching at the corners in the way she had learned meant he was up to something.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that?"
"You love me. Real or not real?"
"Never should have shown you that movie, should I?"
"Any story where the guy who isn't played by the Hemsworth gets the girl speaks to me, Swan. And please tell me you have read the books."
Emma shook her head against his chest, the rumble of his laugh echoing in her ears. "Well there's next Christmas sorted," he whispered. "But you didn't answer my question."
She met his eyes, the depth of the blue always startling despite knowing them so well. Reaching up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, her hands following their favourite path from his hips and up the hard planes of his chest before tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Real," she murmured, her lips still brushing his skin. "Absolutely real."