Emma tugged at the end of her tight red dress, wanting nothing more than to be back in her apartment in sweatpants and wrapped in blankets on the couch while sipping a hot chocolate. As she sat in her yellow bug, she pictured herself spending an ideal night at home, some random late night show playing on the TV in the background while she relaxed. Even more ideal would be spending the evening hanging out with her roommate, the one and only Killian Jones.
People had been speculative when Emma and Killian decided to move in together a year ago, but the two of them were too used to spending every day together after attending the same college together for four years. It seemed like the most obvious thing to do was to find an apartment and move in together after graduation. She really couldn't complain about the living arrangements, not too much anyway. Killian was neat and organized, for a guy. He gave her the space she needed, but she knew he was always there for emotional support, just like he had always been throughout college.
The only times she had a problem was when he finished showering and would walk around the apartment in nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, save for the water droplets still clinging to his chest and hair, or when he came home from the gym, his face still sweaty and the clingy t-shirt leaving little to Emma's imagination. But she only had a problem with it because, you know, he would leave a trail of water on the floor or he would smell up the entire apartment.
She threw her head back against the headrest of her car, squeezing her eyes closed. God, she had it so bad for him. She had tried her best all throughout college, but that final year had been the breaking point for her, and ever since then, she had been battling an inner war with herself over her feelings toward Killian Jones. All of her friends had been right when they said it was probably a mistake to move in with him, and those closest to her were more concerned that they would have a repeat of Neal Cassidy, a horror high school romance.
But Emma, stubborn as she was, went along with the deal anyway. And now here she was, trying to convince herself that she didn't have any feelings for Killian that rose above the friends level while also trying to keep an eye out for her perp that she was supposed to corner at the restaurant across the street.
She didn't even know if Killian liked her as more than a friend. Sure, he was charming, considerate, and sexy as hell. And they had had a few flirty banters throughout college and their time living together. He had always been there to support her, whether it be when she had failed a big test in one of her classes or when her boyfriend of a few months, Graham, had been shot and killed during a bank robbery in their second year of college. But all of that was who Killian was as a person. He was nice, sweet, and friendly to everybody they met. She was no exception, and it was stupid of her to consider herself special or privileged in anyway.
Emma banged her head against the back of her seat once more before opening her eyes and chancing a glance out the window. Her heart leaped into her throat when she recognized the man she was supposed to catch standing at the entrance to the restaurant, glancing once down at his flip phone before looking around at his surroundings wildly.
She smoothed out her hair, reapplying her bright red lipstick before stepping out of the car, sauntering across the street in her black pumps and favorite dress for these occasions.
"Hi, are you Walsh, by any chance? Walsh Ozzidian?" she asked, approaching him and flashing a wide smile at him when he turned to look at her, his jaw slacking a little bit.
"Yes, I am," he recovered quickly, smugly smirking and reaching out his hand for her to shake. "And you must be Emma Swan. You're even more beautiful than I thought. Your profile picture doesn't do you justice." He winked, and Emma couldn't help but think his face resembled that of a monkey, especially when he tried to smile in what Emma could only assume was a seductive manner.
"Thanks," she said, willing her cheeks to pinken a bit. "Shall we go inside? I'm starving."
Walsh placed a hand on the small of her back, and Emma shoved away the impulse to swat his hand away and walk into the restaurant on her own.
"So, you looked a little relieved when you first saw me."
"Well, it is the Internet," Walsh said with a small chuckle, pointing out a wine to the waiter. "Pictures can be-."
"Fake? Undated? Stolen from a Victoria Secret's catalog?" Emma interrupted, and Walsh laughed with her, folding his hands on the table.
"So, uh, tell me something about yourself, Emma."
Emma thought for a second before saying the first thing that popped into her mind. "Well, today's my birthday."
"And you're spending it with me," Walsh said, a touch of surprise in his response. "What about your friends?"
"I don't have that many close friends, and as it turns out, they're all busy tonight."
"And, you don't like your family?" he said hesitantly.
"No family to like."
"Oh, c'mon, everyone has family," Walsh said, tilting his head at her.
"Technically, yeah," Emma conceded. "But not everyone knows who they are." She took a deep breath, smiling softly at him. "Ready to run yet?"
"Not a chance," Walsh said, smirking back at her. "You, Emma, by far, are the sexiest, friendless orphan I have ever met."
Emma forced out a mirthful laugh, trying to swallow the taste that came with discussing her orphan status and small friend group. The waiter chose that moment to return with the wine, pouring them each a glass before leaving the bottle in the wine bucket next to the table.
"Okay, your turn!" Walsh opened his mouth to start sharing details with her, but she interrupted him, smiling at his mischievously. "No, wait! Let me guess!"
He chuckled, nodding at her to continue. "Um, you are handsome. Charming."
"Go on."
"The kind of guy who, and now, stop me if I get this wrong. Embezzled from your employer, got arrested, and skipped town before they were able to throw your ass in jail."
Walsh shook his head once, the smile seeming to be frozen on his face. "What?"
"The worst part of all this is your wife. Your wife loves you so much that she bailed you out, and how do you repay that loyalty? You're on a date."
Walsh clenched his jaw, looking away before shifting his glance back to the tablecloth. "Who are you?"
"The chick that put up the rest of the money."
Walsh took a second, but finally he took a deep breath, looking up to meet her eyes. "You're a bail bondsman," he said with a tone of finality.
"Bail bondsperson," Emma corrected.
Walsh laughed lightly, tapping the table awkwardly before quickly uprooting the whole thing and shoving it towards her. Emma gasped as the wine splashed over her dress, dropping onto her arms and even managing to find its way into her heel somehow.
People turned their heads at the commotion, and when Emma looked up from her ruined outfit, Walsh was gone, the door to the kitchen swinging wildly. She rolled her eyes, briskly walking through the kitchen, ignoring the bewildered stares of the kitchen staff, before emerging through a side door. She could see her bug from the entrance to the door, but she continued walking to her left, spotting a man struggling to get a car to start.
She could hear Walsh cursing and banging his hands on the steering wheel, and by the time he opened the door in another effort to escape, Emma was at the car, hands on her hips.
"You don't have to do this, okay? I can pay you. I got money," Walsh tried to reason with her.
"No, you don't," Emma scoffed. "And if you did, you should give it to your wife. Take care of your family," she suggested.
Walsh's face hardened immediately, and his lips twisted into a cruel sneer. "What the hell d'you know about family, huh?"
She choked on her breath as the words left Walsh's mouth, and instinctively, she reached for the back of his neck and banged his head against the steering wheel, knocking him out cold. But the whole time, she couldn't help but focus on the answer she had to his question.
Nothing.
She knew absolutely nothing about family.
It was close to midnight by the time Emma finally arrived home. There had been a terrible accident on the highway, and city traffic was always bad. She wasn't even fully inside the door before she had one heel off.
All of the lights were off in the apartment, meaning Killian was either not home yet or he had already gone to bed. A quick glance at both her phone and the kitchen island told her she was alone. Killian always made sure to send her a text or leave a note if he was already in bed by the time she got home from work; it had happened more than once, sadly.
Emma's stomach grumbled pathetically, and she mentally cursed Walsh for not allowing her to order some food before he tried to make his escape, and when she couldn't curse him anymore, she cursed herself for not stopping to get food before she hit the busy roads.
She sighed deeply, stepping out of her other heel and flinging them both to the side, where they hit the wall and remained in a heap on the floor next to the door. She reached into her clutch, pulling out her phone and sending a text message to Killian.
Emma: Hey, I'm home. I know it's late, but I haven't eaten yet. Do you want me to make you something?
Emma plugged her phone into the charger, escaping into the bathroom and stripping off the wine-stained dress. She knew she should treat it immediately, but her bones ached just thinking about the extra labor, and a migraine was starting to thrum at the base of her skull. Instead, she just let the dress fall to the floor and pile itself into a heap as she stepped out of it and into the steamy shower.
She had never been one for long showers, always weary of the water bill, but tonight was an exception, and she absolutely relished the hot water massaging the tight muscles of her back, legs, and feet.
Thirty minutes later, after the hot water had started to turn lukewarm and her fingers looked more like prunes than actual fingers, she stepped out, wasting no time in changing into a tank top and sweatpants while piling her hair on top of her head in a messy bun.
There was no response from Killian when she checked her phone, and a quick scan of the refrigerator and pantry told Emma that she was going to be making grilled cheese tonight, which, honestly, didn't bother her all that much. She was a well-known sucker for grilled cheese and onion rings.
On a last minute thought, Emma made Killian a grilled cheese too, just in case he was hungry when he came home. She put the sandwich on a paper plate and tucked it away in the fridge before settling herself on the couch, audibly letting out a sigh of relief as she did so. She finished her grilled cheese in record time, turning on the TV to try and fill the empty space in her lonely apartment.
The clock in the lobby of the apartment complex told Killian that it was nearly two in the morning as he made his way to the elevator of his building. He ran a hand heavily down his face, yawning a little bit as he did so.
It was very rare that he came home from work this late, and he felt bad every time he did, knowing that Emma worked long hours and feeling like a right prick if he ever woke her up. Plus, Emma with little sleep and no coffee was a truly terrifying experience, one that he never wanted to repeat again.
When he got to their shared apartment, he opened the door as quietly as he could, immediately noticing Emma's black pumps lying against the wall as if just thrown there. He shut the door behind him, shrugging his jacket off as he entered the apartment, freezing almost immediately at the sight before him.
The light above the kitchen island were still on their lowest setting, but the majority of the light in the apartment came from the flickering images from the television set. As he got closer, he recognized the early morning show as a rerun of Spongebob Squarepants, but his attention was short-lived on the cartoon.
Emma was sprawled out on the couch, her knees drawn up to her chest as a result of the thin blanket only managing to cover her feet. Her hair tie had come out, leaving her hair to fan itself across the pillow her head was resting on and hang off the edge, nearly touching the floor. One arm was tucked underneath her head, the other one resting along her stomach, the remote grasped loosely in her hand.
Killian knew he shouldn't, but he watched her sleep peacefully. Emma looked like a different person when she slept, the stress from the past five years disappearing from her face.
He had always thought she was beautiful, from the moment he first met her. They had grown to be quick friends in college, and Killian liked to think of them as kindred spirits, both opting for small groups of friends, generally having no family for the majority of their lives, and both having rotten luck when it came to love lives. Originally from the UK, Killian had a family until his mother died from cancer, his father abandoned his children, and his brother was killed in a mission for the Navy, each event happening a year apart from one another. His girlfriend, an older woman named Milah, broke it off with him not long after Liam died, choosing to run back to her ex-husband instead of dealing with his depressed and rum-obsessed self. Not being able to take it anymore and with nothing holding him back in the UK, Killian packed his bags and left, applying to colleges and eventually moving to New York when he was accepted to NYU.
He had met Robin almost immediately, the two men forming a bond over their foundations in the UK. Robin introduced him to his friends, including Will, Viktor, Jefferson, and Jefferson's girlfriend, Ruby. Ruby, in turn, brought her three roommates to the group too, Regina, Belle, and, last but not least, Emma.
The group bonded like glue almost automatically, and it was a long-standing joke that they were the real-life extended version of the Friends cast.
It took exactly one year for Killian to fall for Emma, and he could remember that day vividly. It was the one-year anniversary of Liam's death, and Killian had found a bar that was relatively empty. He was on his fourth glass of rum when the blonde walked in, making a beeline for the bar and ordering three shots of vodka. It didn't take her long to spot him, and when she did, her eyes widened comically, and she blushed fiercely, as though she were embarrassed to be caught drinking alone in a bar.
The bartender gave her the shots, and after what looked like a heavy inner debate with herself, she grabbed the glasses and went over to Killian's table, sitting down across from him.
"Hey," she said.
"Hello, love," he responded, his words not even slurred yet from the alcohol. He knew how to handle his liquor almost as well as a pirate did.
"So," she said, coughing awkwardly. "What brings you to the bar to drink alone?"
It was her attempt at easing the uncomfortable tension between them, and if Killian had been sober, he would have come up with an excuse about being stressed out about classes or about his internship down at the docks. Alas, he was tipsy, and in his rash state of mind, he was blurting out to her about Liam dying. To her credit, Emma listened patiently to the story, downing one of her shots when he introduced his parents to the narrative.
"Killian," Emma said when he finished. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know any of that."
"Didn't expect you to, love. It's not like you're a mind reader or something. Now tell me, why are you here?"
Emma stiffened, and Killian, even in his drunken haze, knew that he had touched on a nerve, and he made a show of pushing his rum glass away to show her that she had his full and prompt attention.
"It's my birthday," she finally muttered, and Killian furrowed his eyebrows, mentally berating himself for not knowing about her birthday.
"Don't worry about it. No one knows my birthday, not even Ruby, Belle, and Regina," she said, and Killian wondered for a second if she actually was reading his mind.
"Forgive me, love, but aren't birthdays supposed to be celebratory? This looks anything but."
"Yeah, well," she sighed. "It's also the day where I was found abandoned on the side of the road and placed in the foster system after my birth parents never claimed me. I bounced around in the system for years and made a friend that ended up stabbing me in the back before I ran away when I was sixteen, living with my boyfriend in high school, Neal. Turns out Neal was into pickpocketing and stealing, and he tried to rope me into his heists. After a robbery-gone-wrong though, Neal set me up to take his fall, and I had been taken into custody before Ruby and her grandmother came to my rescue, Granny making sure to clear everything up with the high school too so I wouldn't get expelled. It had been a long process, and it involved me making a few testimonies and handing over my phone so that they could analyze conversations between Neal and I. But eventually I was cleared and Neal was taken into custody, but not before he cornered me at work at Granny's one day and insulted me to no end. Granny ended up chasing him out of her restaurant with her crossbow." Emma laughed at the memory, and when Killian didn't laugh with her, she glanced up at him to see his jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Killian? Don't get angry. I'm much happier now knowing Neal is locked up and I am at college with my closest friends. I never thought I'd have all these people in my life, and I do, so that's pretty great."
"And yet here you are drinking away your birthday," he pointed out tonelessly, still reeling from her story about Neal.
Emma winced, eyeing her last two shots. "You know what," she said, pushing the alcohol away from her. "I'm sick of feeling miserable on my birthday. What do you say you call up Robin and I'll call Ruby, and we'll see if everyone wants to catch dinner or a movie or something. I think we could both use a distraction tonight." She winked at him, and even though he didn't want to, he felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards.
That night was the night Emma Swan became more than a friend to Killian Jones, and though he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep next to her at night and kiss her senseless whenever he bloody well wanted to, he was a gentleman enough to not push her into anything. Neal had messed her up badly in the past, and just when Emma finally began to open her walls again with Graham, he had been killed, and Emma's walls rebuilt themselves up with a double layer of concrete. He did what he could and supported her through thick and thin, but a pesky voice in his head reminded Killian that he wanted much more than just a friendship or roommate situation with Emma Swan.
Shaking his head from his flashbacks, he stifled a yawn with his fist, reaching over and covering Emma more fully with the blanket. He would move her to her own bed, but he was nervous of waking her up when she clearly needed the sleep, and their couch, unlike the stereotypical movie versions, was pretty comfortable.
He padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge, intending to grab a water bottle and leave a note for Emma before heading to bed. But his eye caught sight of a paper plate in the fridge, and he curiously took it out, a little surprised to see his name written on a post-it note and stuck to the aluminum foil. He peeked inside, a smile breaking out across his face when he realized that Emma had probably worked a long day due to her falling asleep on the couch, but she had still thought to make him something for dinner when he came home.
His smile was short-lived though when he remembered the first part of that realization. Emma had to be exhausted. She was tired enough to not put her heels away and fall asleep on the couch. And yet she had still attempted to make a home-cooked meal. He frowned, glancing over at the couch where the blonde slept before shutting the fridge, grilled cheese still inside.
He went to work busying himself around the kitchen, mixing together milk and cocoa powder before placing it in the microwave, escaping to use the bathroom while the drink heated up. While he was in there, he noticed a pile of red fabric lying on the floor next to the sink. Curiously, he picked it up, realizing after a second that it was one of Emma's dresses. His nose twitched as a strong odor permeated his senses, and with an extra sniff at the clothing in his hands, he realized that the smell was coming from her dress, and it had the distinct familiarity of wine.
He made it out of the bathroom just in time to catch the microwave before it started beeping, not wanting Emma to be rudely awakened by it. He finished off the cup with a mound of whipped cream, and he sprinkled cinnamon on it. He stirred the cup as he made his way to the living room, muting the TV and carefully sitting on the floor next to her.
"Emma. Emma, love, wake up," he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she scrunched her nose up, blinking rapidly to adjust to the new lighting. "Killian?" Her voice was husky and thick with sleep. "Is it morning?"
"Technically speaking, yes. It's around two-thirty, love."
She closed her eyes again, placing a hand over her face. "I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I didn't wake you up with the TV, did I?"
He grimaced, raising a hand to scratch nervously behind his year. It was his nervous tell, as Robin loved to point out every time he did it. "Actually, I just arrived home about a half an hour ago."
Emma's hand dropped away from her face, her eyes wide. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. There was some chaos down at work, and I had to take care of it. That new employee, Smee something, keeps messing things up. And if I have to tell him one more time that that red hat of his isn't suitable for the workplace, I'm going to-."
"You're gonna what? Go all Captain Hook on him?" Emma smirked, and Killian rolled his eyes. Ever since he mentioned the name of his newest employee, Emma had been rattling of Peter Pan puns to no end. "You made hot chocolate?" Her tone was accusing, and he knew that he should quickly remedy the situation before Emma really yelled at him.
"No need to get wired up, love. It's for you." He handed her the mug, and she sat up, leaning against the pillows as she took the cup from him.
"Oh. Thanks," she whispered, smiling apologetically.
"No worries, Swan. I did wake you from a particularly peaceful sleep. Dreaming of me, no doubt," he winked at her, and Emma visibly choked on her drink. "Don't worry, Swan. I dream of you more often than not too."
Emma darkened a shade redder, drinking her hot chocolate to avoid answering while Killian chuckled, knowing perfectly well what her strategy was. "The hot chocolate is actually a present, Swan. To thank you for dinner and for trying to wait up for me. I saw the heels by the door and the dress in the bathroom."
Emma groaned, leaning her head back. "Don't mention any of that to me. Pretty sure that asshole ruined my favorite dress."
"I'm sure Belle or Regina knows how to get out a wine stain."
"I bet they do too. I should have called them earlier, but you weren't the only one with a late night," Emma said, her words laced with bitterness.
"Swan," Killian said, taking a deep breath as he prepared to pry. "You seem more on edge than usual after one of your cases. Is it because I woke you up in the middle of the night? Or-."
"No. God, Killian, I'm sorry. This guy just got under my skin, that's all."
He nodded once, watching Emma take another sip of her drink and visibly relax. "Lift your legs up."
"What?"
He stood, moving to the side of the couch where Emma's legs were still sprawled on. "You heard me. Up."
He tapped her big toe, and she lifted her legs, Killian sitting on the couch where they previously rested and placing her feet back onto his lap. He grabbed a foot, and Emma sucked in a breath.
"Killian, I swear, if you start to tickle me, I will throw this cup at you."
"So violent, love. I was merely going to give your feet a massage. Running in those heels must have hurt like hell."
Emma groaned in agreement when his fingers started to dig into the arch of her foot.
"I'll never understand why you women put up with such fashion when you could easily wear something else. Though, they do make your legs look bloody fantastic, Swan, so I heartily support your pain if that is the result."
"Shut up, Jones," she managed to reply, and he chuckled, rubbing his knuckles into her heel.
"Oh my God!" she gasped, throwing her head back as he hit a particularly sore spot in her left foot.
"It's Killian, love."
She picked her head up, glaring at him. "You know, you're really good at this. It'd be a shame if you were to lose a hand or something," she threatened.
Killian merely laughed, switching to the other foot, earning a whole new set of groans and gasps from Emma. When he was finished, she sighed, handing him the cup of hot chocolate for the last sip.
"Thank you. You were right. I needed that. Heels suck."
"I would have paid to see you in that outfit though, Swan. Quite the ensemble. Ow!" he yelped as she reached over and slapped his arm violently. "Would you have rather me lie to you? That'd be bad form, Swan. Bad form indeed."
"You and this bad form nonsense. You've been talking about that ever since I met you. Are you trying to act like a gentleman or something?"
"I'm always a gentleman."
Emma actually snorted at that, and when Killian raised his eyebrow at her, she dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Apologies, Swan. I fail to see the humor in insulting me and my good form." This only made Emma laugh harder, and Killian smiled inwardly, happy to have taken her mind off of her rough night. God, he had it so bad for this woman.
"So you never really told me what kept you so late at work."
"And you never told me what it was about this man that irked you."
Emma pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "How 'bout a deal then? You tell me about your night, and I'll tell you about mine."
"Hardly needed to make a deal to start a conversation, love, but I'll accept your offer on one condition. You promise not to fall asleep until I bring us more hot chocolate."
"Ok. But this talk may require ice cream too."
"On it, love."
Less than five minutes later, Killian was handing her a spoon and a mug of hot chocolate, holding onto a mug and spoon of his own while sitting down and placing the carton of chocolate ice cream between them.
"So, spill. What'd Smee do now?"
Killian recanted the story about how Smell was too busy flirting with one of the secretaries, Ariel, to realize that her boyfriend was watching them. Eric had played it cool at first, but when Smee had made some inappropriate comments about nightcaps, the two had gotten into a fight. The brawl distracted half of the employees and had damaged two of the machines, forcing the work to be put on hold as Killian and his executive team tried to repair the machines and find an alternative way for work to continue while the repairs were being made. It didn't help that for the rest of the night, there was a tension between Smee and Eric, the latter making it a point to make out with his girlfriend whenever he walked past her.
Emma was stifling her laughs by the time he was finished, and Killian couldn't help but smile too. Actually experiencing it was drawn-out and stressful, but telling the story to another person made Killian realize just how high-school-drama the entire thing sounded.
"Alright, love. A deal's a deal. Tell me about your date."
Emma hardened her face, glaring daggers at him. "It was not a date. Not even close."
"Relax, Swan. Just trying to diffuse the tension."
Emma bit her bottom lip, swirling her finger around the rim of her mug. "Sorry, I'm just really tired."
"To be fair, I did wake you up. And if you-."
"He said I knew nothing about family," Emma blurted out, immediately pursing her lips right after. Killian had stopped speaking, but she refused to look up at him. She didn't want to see the pity that she knew was swimming in his eyes.
"Emma-."
"And I know it's not true really. I have all my friends. Ruby's the closest thing I've ever had for a sister. And I have you. But-. But it is true. I don't know anything about family." Her voice broke on the last word, and Killian felt his heart snap clean in half.
"Swan-."
"I never had parents. No siblings. Not even a goddamn pet. And the one family that I actually thought I could be happy with sent me back after my so-called friend fucked everything up for me. If I was in this guy's position and actually had money to spend, who knows if I would use it to help my family. I might be selfish too. But there's no way of knowing-."
"Emma, listen to me!" Killian finally shouted, and Emma's head snapped up to meet his. Her lips were trembling, and her eyes were shining with barely unshed tears. "Don't let anything that that bastard said get to you like this. So you may not have had an ideal childhood, but you are the strongest person I know, and you didn't let anything stop you from making your own family. This guy was not even close to being right."
Emma sucked in her bottom lip and lowered her head.
"You created a family here, Emma, don't you see that? I know you feel lost sometimes, and that's completely understandable, love. But don't let someone who has known you for five minutes tell you more about what you know about your life than someone who has known and loved you for five years."
Emma was silent, and Killian could feel his heart rate increasing the longer that she spent not speaking. He was ready to break out into an extended spiel about how wonderful she was when he finally heard her speak, her voice no higher than a whisper.
"You love me?"
Shit. There were two interpretations for that statement, and as a result, there were two different paths Killian could take now. He could tell her that he's been in love with her for the past four years and risk rejection and a possible permanent tension built into their relationship. Or he could clarify that this was a platonic love between two roommates and friends, something that surely would cause Killian to break into his personal stash of rum after Emma had gone back to bed. At least with the latter option, the only aching heart would be Killian's though.
"Of course, Swan. You're one of my closest friends. How could I not love someone as brilliant as you?" he choked out the words, sending her a tight-lipped smile.
She nodded, lowering her eyes once more from his. Killian counted nine large breaths before she let out a light laugh. "Right, of course. Friends."
Did he say the wrong answer? He had been so sure that Emma didn't return his feelings. She had been so hurt in the past, and she never made any efforts to date after Graham died. She never talked about Neal, and she barely acknowledged Graham either, the only reminder she carried for either of them being the swan necklace that Graham had gifted to her after their third date.
"I should, um, go to bed. Long day." She placed her mug on the coffee table, leaning down to pick up the remote that had fallen to the floor.
"You can, uh, leave it on. I'm gonna stay up a bit more." She met his gaze, offering him a weak smile as she handed him the remote. His blue eyes met her green ones, and he thought he imagined something resembling hurt in them, but surely it was not he who hurt her.
"Night, Killian. And, thanks. For everything." She leaned down and kissed his cheek, her lips burning his skin. She left the room, and when Killian heard her door close gently, he leaned back, stifling a groan as he ran both hands down his face.
Where had he gone wrong? He was trying to make her feel better, and, somehow, he feels like he made her feel even worse. Usually he was good at motivational speeches and pep talks, but with her, he felt like he had marbles in his throat that had a sole purpose of blocking any and all words from coming out. He didn't know the exact reason, but he had an inkling of a feeling that it had something to do with him being completely and totally in love with her.
He cursed himself, eyes landing on her mug of hot chocolate sitting on the table in front of him next to his own cup. He cast his thoughts back to finding the grilled cheese in the fridge with his name written on it. He remembered all of the pizza nights they had and the many more game nights they had hosted with their friends. He remembered their study sessions in college, him making corny jokes whenever he saw she was getting too stressed or too tired. He remembered her walking into their psychology seminar every Tuesday and Thursday morning during junior year, armed with two Starbucks drinks for them, knowing that he dreaded those early morning lectures just as much as she did. He remembered how she loved to be held whenever she was upset; she would wrap her arms loosely around his waist and nestle her head underneath his chin while his own arms encircled her and traced patterns on her back. He remembered meeting her, his eyes widening a fraction as soon as Ruby called over the blonde siren. He remembered being insanely jealous during a drunk game of spin-the-bottle when Will kept landing on her and had to keep kissing her.
He remembered it all. And he knew. He had made a mistake earlier.
Before he knew it, his legs had carried him over to Emma's closed door, and he raised a fist, debating internally within himself. His heart overpowered his mind eventually, and he brought his fist to the door in a series of three short knocks.
He heard a light thud from within, and then the door was opened, revealing Emma, her eyes slightly red but otherwise the same shade of bright green that always made his breath hitch. Her outfit had not changed, but her hair was now thrown up into a loose ponytail, some strands escaping and landing over her forehead and cheeks.
"Killian?"
"I lied."
To his utter confusion, Emma smiled lightly, nodding. "I know."
"But-."
"Superpower, remember?"
"Ah, yes. Forgot I was living with the human lie detector," he attempted to joke, and to his credit, he earned a small, amused eye roll from her.
They stood in silence for a beat before he spoke again, in a softer tone. "Why didn't you say anything?"
She shrugged, leaning against her door. "I thought I'd let you tell me on your own time. Clearly you didn't want to now. I just thought that-. Nevermind."
"Emma, don't do this. Don't shut me out," he pleaded, placing one hand on the door just in case she wanted to close it on him.
He saw her take a deep breath before looking up and meeting his eyes. "I love you. I'd never thought I'd be able to say those words to a guy again and mean them after Neal and Graham, but somehow you and your stupid jokes got to me, and I just-. I love you."
Killian swore he forgot how to breathe as soon as he heard the words leave her mouth. Emma loved him? Emma Swan loved him, Killian Jones?
Her eyes begged him to say something, and he gulped, the action making it feel like he was trying to swallow an entire burger without chewing.
"How long?"
As if an actual miracle had happened, Emma blushed a dark red and bowed her head, shuffling her feet nervously. "Two years. Ever since the spontaneous ice cream sundae party we had after-."
Killian cut her off by gently grabbing her cheeks in her hands and pressing his lips against hers. She froze for a second, registering what had happened, but then she was kissing him back, her mouth slanting over his. Her could feel her silky hair underneath his fingertips, and he groaned against her lips, pressing against them with as much passion and love as he could muster. One hand slipped from her cheek and wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her flush against him. One of her hands had also gripped his waist while the other curled itself in the hair at the back of his neck.
The pair finally broke apart from each other, gasping wildly. Not wanting to be apart from her too long, he tugged her head down so that her forehead was pressed against his.
"I love you, Swan. So bloody much. And definitely as more than a friend."
Emma actually laughed this time, her breath fanning over his face. "You're my family, Killian."
"And you're mine."
Emma smiled at him, lifting her head slightly and meeting his lips in a much softer kiss than their first.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" she whispered to him.
He smirked, lifting an eyebrow at her request. "Swan, if you wanted to sleep with me, all you had to do was ask. I appreciate the values, darling, but there's no need to stand on ceremony."
He yelped as Emma punched him in the upper arm, giggling while she did so. When she spoke, it was in a voice quite unrelated to her streak of sudden violence. "I just don't want to be alone."
"Of course, Swan. But, bloody hell, that hurt!"
He laughed along with her, allowing her to pull him into her room and close the door gently behind them.