Lessons in Music and Love

Chapter 1

Unknown: come n get me. at the Rabbit Hole. assholes took my keys.
KJ: I'm sorry who is this?
Unknown: ha ha. Very funny david just gt off ur ass and come pik me up.
KJ: I'm afraid you have the wrong number.
Unknown: i think i no your number. it appears i'm unfit to drive so u or Mary Margaret need 2 get here.
KJ:...
Unknown: plz
KJ:...
Unknown: fine. let my kid find out from teh cops why i didn't come home…
Unknown: what if I get murdered?
Unknown: lil lady all by herself
Unknown: Davvvviiiddd
Unknown: dave dave dave dave
KJ: Goddamnit. The Rabbit Hole you say? I'm coming. Just stop texting me.
Unknown: aye aye cap'n

Killian Jones knew nothing good would come from leaving his home at 1 am, but if it would get the drunkard to stop messaging him then he would do anything to finally get some rest. Sleep had a difficult time finding him these past few weeks. There were many changes that had happened in his life: new job, new home, new lady… but he could see the finish line. He had finally finished his monthly plans and was about to head to bed when his phone went off. It was as if the universe didn't want him to get the sleep he deserved, but he didn't believe in cosmic interference. He did, however, believe in the power of alcohol.

After a fairly long drive—fueled by anger and espresso—Killian found himself outside the bar of ill repute. He had never been before, but one glance assured him that its reputation—a total of 3 Yelp reviews—was true. A group of bikers stared him down as he pulled up to the front of the bar, most likely wondering what a man in a Prius would be doing at such an establishment. It didn't help that he was wearing flannel pyjama bottoms. Killian made sure not to look them in the eyes as he drove by. There was a day when he would have gladly stared them down, rearing for a fight, but he had grown tired of that person and now avoided conflict at all cost. He instead let his eyes search for the woman who had harassed him through text.

Much to his surprise, the drunkard ended up being an attractive, young blonde who wore dangerously high heels. She stood outside the bar wearing a red, leather jacket with black tights. On an autumn night such as this one, she must have been freezing, but she showed no sign, undoubtedly due to the alcohol running through her veins. Her beanie was the only sensible thing she was wearing, although he was sure it provided minimal protection against the bitter wind. With a sigh, Killian pulled up beside her and rolled down the window.

"I take it you're the one who texted me," he stated. His English accent did not escape her. "I'm your designated driver tonight."

"A Brit. Sweet." The woman picked up a guitar case and went to the back of the car, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did so. She tapped on the glass. "Open up so I can slide this in the back."

He did as she said and in seconds she slid into the passenger seat. Her face was flushed from the cold, her eyes heavy from the alcohol. Despite being in the presence of a complete stranger, the woman showed no signs of unease. Killian wondered if this was a common occurrence for her—getting into the cars of strange men. So much for being the damsel in distress she had claimed to be.

The first thing she noticed was how attractive he was. His dark brown hair was mussed up from the day and he was wearing an old white t-shirt over his pyjama bottoms, but he was still devilishly handsome. She wondered what he would have looked like dressed up...or maybe even dressed down. She smirked at the thought.

"That took you long enough," she said as she buckled in. Her slurred words proved that she was in no condition to drive and Killian was happy that she wasn't behind a wheel. "You friends with David?"

The young blonde—and she was young, no more than 30 if he had to guess—kicked her feet onto the dashboard. It seemed she also had a habit of making herself at home.

"I don't know who that person is," Killian replied flatly. He gently pushed her feet off the dash. "But I got your text—or texts rather—so just tell me where to go so I can get home and sleep."

The woman frowned. "How do I know you're not gonna kill me?"

He stared at her with a raised eyebrow. "Would I have waited this long?"

"Touché." She kicked her feet back onto the dashboard. "Granny's diner on the edge of town."

Killian pushed her feet off once more and mumbled to himself. "Edge of town. Great. And on a school night." He typed in the address on his GPS.

"School night?" She looked him over. His soft, blue eyes, did nothing to hide his 30 some years behind them. "Aren't you a little old for school, mister…?"

"Jones. Killian Jones. And it's not absurd when you're a teacher."

He pulled away from the curb and started his drive, glad to finally be moving on with this strange night. At least half an hour there and another back, he calculated. He would definitely regret this.

"I'm Emma Swan," the woman said as she reclined the seat, "but you've probably heard of me already. I'm a very popular musician you know. Interesting that a teacher would be up this late, but I guess I'm just a lucky woman. Although, I guess I could have bunked with the gang back there. Ted's a pretty cool guy."

"I wish you would have."

"Well that's just rude." Emma feigned offense. "Not my fault you stole my friend's phone."

"I didn't steal anything," he stated matter-of-factly. "I simply bought a new phone and was given this number. Perhaps your friend got a new phone as well."

Emma found herself pleasantly intrigued by the man behind the wheel. She could tell he was annoyed but not many people would have been as collected as he was in this situation. She pictured him putting that trait to use in a classroom. She supposed the whole teacher thing made sense—he had the grumpiness down at least. Certainly, she wouldn't want him as a teacher. On second thought, he was gorgeous and would have definitely given her teenage-self something to look forward to every day. Emma had every intention to ask more about him and his job but the car was so warm and she suddenly found herself feeling the need to close her eyes for a second...

"Miss?" Killian gently shook the stranger's shoulder. "Miss, wake up would you?"

Emma groaned. "5 more minutes."

"No way are you sleeping in my car. We're here so you should get back home to your son."

"My son?" Emma yawned. "Oh ya. He better be sleeping or else he's going to get a stern talking to."

"I think all you're going to be giving him is resentment towards you when he sees you walking in like this."

"Pfft what are you, a child psychologist?"

Trying not to roll his eyes, Killian climbed out of the car. He ran around to the passenger side to open the door, hoping this would help speed the process along. Dear lord was it cold out.

Emma patted her pockets. "Well looks like I forgot to nab the house key."

This time, Killian couldn't prevent himself from rolling his eyes. "Of course you did. Can you call someone?"

"Nah. I don't want to create more resentment towards me."

"Well I don't see how you're going to get inside without a key."

"There's always a way," she said with a wink as she pulled out a hairpin. She turned to step out of the car when she was met with resistance. "Hey what's the big idea? Unhand me!"

Killian sighed and reached down to unbuckle her seat belt. As he did, the woman grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.

"You're very handsome you know that?" A giggles escaped her. "My hero."

"I'm flattered," he murmured as he shrugged her off. "Now let me just..."

Click.

Killian undid the seat belt and helped Emma up. Trying to ignore the cold wind on his back, he walked her to the door of the diner. "Now you have a good night okay, Ms. Swan?"

"Sure thing, boss."

Killian sighed and returned to his car. "And Ms. Swan?" he shouted from beside the car door. "Please don't text me again."

She gave him a salute and laughed. Killian watched as she walked towards the diner's side entrance and struggled with the lock. He didn't drive away until she had disappeared inside.