My favorite part of the day

He first came in on a late spring afternoon. The season hadn't even begun, it wasn't even summer, so Emma was instantly intrigued by the dark-haired stranger who walked into her coffee shop.

Storybrooke couldn't even be considered a tourist attraction, it was more a remote and forsaken town lost along the Maine coastline. But during the summer, from time to time, a few daring adventurers would show up. They were usually the occupants of passing sailboats, choosing to dock in town for a day or two and replenish their supplies. Some of them even braved the woods, hiking for an afternoon before coming back into town to a few dinner options and only one bar.

The Dark Swan was a short walk from the docks, in a coveted location that offered both a view of the sea and the woods. It was the only coffee shop in town and Monday to Saturday, from seven in the morning until eight in the evening, Emma would serve the local patrons a small but high-quality variety of coffee, tea, pastries, and sandwiches. Then she'd lock up and climb the stairs to the small loft above the shop where she lived.

It wasn't much, but after decades of being alone and struggling to find her place in life, it was hers. And it fels a lot like home - or what Emma thought home should feel like.

When he walked into her small little place in the world that day, it changed everything. Emma felt an instant pull towards him - dark hair, striking blue eyes and three days worth of scruff - that only enhanced when he asked for a cup of tea in a soft, accented voice that sent a jolt of electricity down her spine. She cursed her luck, wishing she'd ran into him at the Rabbit Hole instead. She would have definitely taken him back to his room for a round or two before disappearing in the middle of the night. But that was ruled out now. If Emma were to meet tall, dark, and handsome at the bar, it would now be a second meeting. It would be something to linger over, have the taste of something a lot more intimate - emotionally at least - than what she'd intend. And Emma Swan - she of the walls a mile high and who ran before the sun rose on the horizon - didn't do emotional intimacy.

She sighed, filing the stranger into the could have been a good night category and moved to ask about his tea order.

"Anything special?"

The- corner of his mouth lift in a soft smirk. "Surprise me." He pulled a notebook out of his messenger bag. Emma waited until she had turned around to roll her eyes - it would be bad to snort at a customer - but she couldn't help the way her own lips curved into a smile. She selected a blend of English Breakfast with an undertone of cinnamon, something that was traditional enough but also had an edge to it.

Emma approached him with the tea and a complimentary pastry. "Staying in town long, Mr.-" She trailed off as she placed his order on the table. He shook his head in surprise, as if she had interrupted him in deep thought.

"Jones. Killian Jones," he offered with a smile and a nod of his head. "And I don't know yet." He gave her a once over that should have made her uncomfortable, and yet there was nothing creepy in the way his eyes were looking at her. "Perhaps."

Emma tilted her head and strengthened her hold on the service tray. "Enjoy your tea, Mr. Jones."

His words reached her as she was walking back towards the counter. "I didn't catch your name, lass."

She turned her head briefly to give him a coy look over her shoulder. "I didn't give it to you."

He stayed for a couple of hours, sipping his tea slowly and methodically as he wrote on his notebook. The sun was almost set on the horizon and it was nearly closing time when he finally stood, placing a few bills on the table. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he nodded his head slightly and left the shop.

She wasn't sure what made her chase after him. "Killian?" she called for him when he was only a few feet away and waited for him to turn to face her. "It's - it's Emma. Emma Swan."

His smile was bright and bashful as he reached to scratch behind his ear. "Emma Swan, it's a pleasure to meet you."

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He kept coming back. Late spring bled into early summer, the days getting longer and warmer. The proximity to the ocean made the temperature pleasant and not suffocating, not even in the middle of August. He would have a book with him sometimes, his notepad others, and occasionally he would bring his laptop and write in it for a few hours.

By now, Emma knew a little more through the town grapevine. Killian was living on small but well-kept sailboat that he'd docked at the harbor and it seemed he had no intention of leaving in the near future. He'd acquired a card at the local library and he was benefiting from the town's book collection for the delight of Belle.

But he was still a mystery. There hadn't been any women (or men) keeping him company at night - apparently not for the lack of some of them trying in the local bar, and it wasn't clear exactly why he'd decided to remain in town. Once or twice Emma had caught him smiling as he spoke on his phone, or focusing his attention at the small screen - probably after receiving a picture. She had tried to crane her neck as she busied herself cleaning adjacent tables, but never got a good glimpse.

Only once, when she approached the table with his order, she'd gotten lucky and got a good look at the desktop screen of his laptop - Killian standing in the middle of two men, one a few years older and the other considerably younger. The blue eyes and matching smirks showed a clear family resemblance. He noticed her prying, though, and gave her a small smirk as he repositioned the laptop. Emma cleared her throat, caught by surprise, and asked a question to deflect attention.

"You could probably brew tea at your own place, you know?" she stated as she placed the mug and the steaming teapot on his table. His hand reached for the pot, his fingers grazing hers in a movement that was clearly planned.

"Aye, but where's the fun in that?" he whispered softly, his fingers stealing a last touch of her skin before he pulled back.

Flustered, she was only able to nod as she turned and escaped from his lingering gaze.

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Late summer bled into autumn, the leaves acquiring ochre tones before falling, the air chilling until a heavier sweater or jacket was needed. And yet, as the last of the season adventurers drifted off, ready to stash their boats until the next spring, Killian still remained. He kept coming each day, as afternoon was coming to an end, and sipped his tea as he wrote endlessly. He would get up at sunset, when the sky was tinted red and dusk meant Emma had to squint in order to see his features without the aid of artificial light, and place a few notes on the table and tilt his head in a goodbye, with something that looked very much like longing lingering in his eyes.

And each day, a part of Emma wondered if maybe - just maybe - she should ask him to stay.

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Autumn came and went, Halloween bringing pumpkin-spiced teas and cinnamon cakes, and Killian poured over the pages of his notebook while he drank whatever concoction Emma produced for him. He didn't even seem to mind when she slid a new pastry in front of him without him ordering it.

"On the house," she shrugged nonchalantly and the corners of his mouth shifted into a soft smile.

"I - I thank the Lady then," he murmured, his voice soft and alluring.

"Don't read too much into it. I had some extras and I don't want them to go to waste."

"Right, I wouldn't dare." He averted his gaze and reached to scratch behind his ear, the sight tugging at Emma's heart.

"Still, I do hope you like it," she stammered, feeling a blush tint her cheeks.

"I'm sure I will."

November brought Thanksgiving and a dire need to ask Killian if he had any plans for the holiday. But when the time came, she simply couldn't ask.

"You'll be closed tomorrow?" he asked on Wednesday as he placed the money on the table as he'd done every day for months now.

"Yeah, and probably Friday. I need a breather," she admitted.

"I imagine…" he trailed off, his eyes boring into hers with something she couldn't pinpoint. It couldn't be longing, as no one had ever ached for Emma Swan and no one ever will, that much she knew.

Emma tried to bring herself to say the words, to ask him if he wanted to come to Granny's dinner with her, knowing the old lady would have no problem with an extra guest at the table. He seemed to sense her want, and he simply waited, his eyebrows lifting in an encouraging gesture.

But in the end, she couldn't. His smile faltered the moment he realized that and his expression changed from hopeful to sad.

"I'll see you on Saturday, then?" he asked softly and Emma could only nod, not able to find her voice.

He was by the door before he turned around one last time. "Happy Thanksgiving, Swan."

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December brought Christmas decorations to the shop - little white, fairy lights and garland adorned the place, the first snow adding to the magical feeling. Emma purposely avoided placing any mistletoe, not wanting to bring herself into an awkward situation - or perhaps simply fearing a rejection.

His routine remained the same, even if he'd traded his leather jacket for a thick, woolen, navy blue coat and a grey scarf and beanie. He walked in every afternoon and claimed the same table, and each day Emma would come up with a new tea blend for him.

Which is why his eyebrows shot to his forehead the day she decided to change the routine and placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkled on top in front of him.

"This is new," was all he said as he cleared his throat, seemingly caught off guard.

"I thought maybe you'd want to try my favorite for a change," she said with a coy smile that he mirrored.

"Are you letting me in on your secrets, Swan?" There was a teasing in his tone and for once, just for once, Emma didn't shy away from it.

"Well, with all the time you've spent here over the last eight months, one could say you're my best customer. I like to treat my best customers."

She didn't miss the way his eyes darted to her lips for a fleeting moment before they went back to her own. She bit her lower lip and turned around before he was able to reply, adding a little sway to her hips.

He didn't bring it up again. Not until he gathered his things and instead of placing the bills on the table, he walked towards the counter. He placed the notes on the counter but the moment Emma went to grab them, his hand caught hers and he brought her knuckles to his lips. "I'm looking forward to see what tomorrow brings, Swan."

It took Emma more than a few moments to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

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As luck would have it, much like anything in Emma's life, the next day brought a heavy blizzard that shut down the entire town. It had started shortly after midnight, the snow starting to pile up until there was nothing in view but white. The high winds started slowly after eight and Emma knew there was no sense in opening that day. No one would weather the storm for a cup of coffee - or tea - no matter how good it was.

She trudged around her apartment, taking the opportunity to half-heartedly clean up and get caught up on some chores. Late in the afternoon, she lit the fireplace and sat by her front window with a cup of hot chocolate, watching the storm unfold, trying not to think how this was the usual time Killian would have come to the shop. Emma had been at that spot for less than an hour when she noticed a tiny figure battling the storm and heading towards the coffee shop. She did a double take, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her, but then she realized it wasn't a vision and that was someone coming to the shop.

And even though the face was covered by a heavy beanie and a big scarf, she would recognize that blue coat anywhere.

Emma quickly ran down the stairs and opened the door to the shop just in time. Killian was bowed by the wind as he took the last steps into her shop.

"Killian, are you insane?" She tugged the sleeve of his coat to pull him into the shop and quickly shut the door, battling the incoming wind a little.

Killian reached out to help her close the door and then removed his beanie and scarf before unbuttoning his coat. "They say the storm is going to get worse." He rubbed his gloved hands, as if trying to bring warmth back into his fingers.

She reached for his hands and he froze his movements. Emma softly removed his leather gloves and examined his hands. There were cold, but there was no sign of frostbite. She rubbed her hands against his, hoping to infuse warmth more quickly into them. She heard his breath catch but she avoided the gaze she could feel was fixated on her as she spoke again.

"And you thought you should brave the blizzard to come here and tell me that it was getting worse?"

"I - I was worried about you."

Emma looked up to find his eyes boring into hers with a mix of concern and hesitation, and it made her heart beat frantically in her chest.

"Come in." She interlaced her fingers with his in a soft movement and tugged him towards the inside of the shop. "Maybe is not a bad idea to secure the windows and the door in case the wind gets worse."

"Do you have wooden boards at hand?" he asked, his thumb softly circling against her palm.

"Yeah, in the back," she offered in a breathy voice.

"I'll do it." He let go of her hand the moment they reach her cellar and grabbed one of the boards.

"I can help."

He shook his head softly. "Let me, Swan."

Killian geared up again in his gloves, beanie and scarf and ventured outside to secure the boards while Emma make a round on the inside of the shop, making sure all was in order.

He was shivering when he came back, his teeth chattering and his hands shaking as his body fought the change in temperature.

"Come here." She motioned for him to come closer and he obliged as he removed his beanie and gloves and rubbed his hands together again. "You need to get yourself warm. Let me get you some tea."

"Just a cup and then I'll be heading back," Killian said, his teeth still chattering a little as he made it to the counter.

"In this weather!?" She hadn't intended the high pitch in her voice but it had come out that way. "Back where?"

"My boat. I'll be fine." Killian waved his hand reassuringly, as if it would be the most natural thing in the world for him to weather the storm back to something that was going to sway in the storm like a paper boat.

"Killian, the storm has gotten worse. You can't leave now." Emma pointed to the covered windows where the wind was hitting, making a terrible noise. "And you can't stay on your boat. It's not safe. Stay here."

He hesitated, his fingers tracing a pattern on the counter. "I don't want to impose on you. You really don't have to -"

Emma cut off his words when she reached for his hand. She gave it a soft squeeze before she held it on hers. "Let's head upstairs, is warmer there." She tugged him in the direction of the stairs and Killian followed her silently, his hand still on hers until they reached her apartment. He let go of her hand to remove his coat, standing hesitantly by the door.

"Get settled on the couch. I'll make you some tea." Emma pointed to the couch before heading to the kitchen. She wasn't sure this was the best idea she'd ever had - it probably wasn't - but she couldn't let him go back to his boat in this weather.

And moreover, Emma found she didn't want to let him go. She wanted him to stay.

The thought was shocking. It felt foreign in her mind, something that had snuck its way in without her knowledge or permission. Something that felt like it belonged there.

Much like it seemed Killian Jones belonged seated on her couch, in a thick blue sweater and loose jeans, watching the fire with a pensive expression.

Emma silently handed him the tea, and he took it without a word, nodding thankfully. He sipped it slowly, his eyes still on the fire as Emma drank her hot chocolate, her eyes wandering from the storm outside to the way the fire was casting a soft light on his features.

It couldn't have been more than an hour, the clock marking the time when he usually stood up to leave the shop downstairs and Emma would watch him go. Their empty mugs were set on the coffee table and neither of them had spoken, not really, afraid one word would disrupt the fragile balance of the room.

"Why did you come?" The words seemed foreign even to her, catching them both by surprise. Killian met her eyes briefly before turning back to the fire.

"I was worried about you." There was a hint of hesitance in his voice, as if something else was lingering below the surface but he wasn't ready to say.

"Killian." Emma scooted closer to him on the couch, her hand reaching to touch his thigh to get his attention. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, I know when people are lying to me." Her eyes bore into his and she noticed how he swallowed nervously. "Why did you really come?"

His eyes were filled with longing when he spoke, moving closer to her. "When I come here, when I see you, that is my favorite part of the day.

Her nose brushed his, and she smiled as she saw the wonder in his eyes. "Mine too," she brushed the words against his lips. His hand reached to thread in her hair and he pulled her closer to her, kissing her as if it was the only thing he ever wanted to do in the world.

"More tea?" she asked when they broke apart, her nose tracing down his jaw.

"How about you treat me to some hot chocolate?" There was veiled innuendo in his words and Emma lifted her head, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe I can start with some hot chocolate and then I can treat you to a few other things."

His eyebrows waggled as he gave her a cocky smirk, his hand tracing a pattern down her side and playing with the hem of her sweater. "Well, I am your best customer after all."

"Indeed." She closed the distance to meet him in another kiss.