A/N: I do plan to write a second chapter, which delves a little deeper into Killian Jones' past and why he's at the church. I hope you enjoy my sprinkling of humor throughout.
"Emma Swan."
Emma turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes widening in surprise, "Killian Jones, is that you?"
He laughed, nodding as he tucked two fingers in his clerical collar, tugging lightly, "In the flesh and blood."
"You're certainly not an altar boy anymore," She retorted with a wry little grin, "Should I be calling you Father Jones?"
"Indeed," He leaned towards her, lowering his voice, "But I won't tell anyone if you don't." A chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned back, eyes flickering over her before questioning, "What brings you to the church after all these years?"
Emma tucked her hands into her jeans, looking around the sanctuary, "Apparently one of the members here is using a false name to get out of his bail. I'm following a lead." She shrugged, eyes meeting his blue ones, "It's been forever since I was in a church."
"I missed you." He said quietly, chewing at the inside of his bottom lip. Oh, life would have been much different if she hadn't run away.
Emma grimaced a little, "The whole… Religion thing wasn't my niche." She gestured towards him, "I guess it was yours though."
He shrugged at that, "I had a bit of a revelation at eighteen, that's the only reason I took to the cloth."
Emma flustered at his words. Eighteen had been when she left and he had certainly not wanted to be a priest.
"Eighteen was a pretty good year for decisions."
Emma had ended up in the refuge of the church right after prison, after the baby. She wanted the hell out of Arizona, took a one way bus to Tallahassee. Not to wait for the asshole who had ruined her, but to see what she thought was calling to her there. She spent a year at the church, making friends with Killian Jones, but then she got the opportunity to work with the bonds agency and she headed off to Boston to start over. With little regard to the altar boy because she was far too afraid of history repeating.
"How has life treated you?" Emma questioned warmly, "You ended up in Boston too."
Killian nodded; there were things he would leave unsaid. Like that fact that he had come to Boston to look for her. Hoping that in ten years she was still there in the city. "They needed someone to lead this starter church. So here I am."
"I saw the name of the church on the case file and I couldn't help but have some little hope that they were affiliated." Emma tried to hide just how big her grin was. She had never really felt like this - missing someone. And seeing him again brought back all of those feelings.
Eighteen had been an incredible year, but they had both been far too damaged to think about being anything more than friends. Which, in the end, was a blessing and a curse.
Killian smiled down at her, "Once you catch your guy I hope that you won't be a stranger here."
"I still don't believe," Emma retorted with a smirk, "But maybe I can be convinced to come by and see a certain Father."
"I would like that. We have much to catch up on."
"We could have coffee tomorrow, before you have mass." Emma offered, biting down on her bottom lip.
Killian's grin widened at that, "I think I can arrange that." He tugged at the clerical collar again, clearing his throat, "As long as I can convince you to at least come to mass afterwards."
Emma groaned, "I don't do the whole church thing."
"Fine, I won't make you come to church, just yet." He smirked for half a second before he dropped the expression. It was far too familiar, an action that he had been known for ten years ago. But taking vows had taken away his cocky personality. "I'll see you tomorrow then. At the café."
Emma nodded at that, "Sounds like a plane to me." She started to walk away, before stop, turning around to face him, "It's great to see you again Killian."
"You as well Emma."
Emma brushed her lips over the edge of her coffee cup as she watched the door of the café. He was late, but it didn't really surprise her at all. He was in charge of a church, there were plenty of tasks that he was obligated to do and coming to the café was not one of them. Especially not with someone that was pretty against ever converting.
"I'm terribly sorry that I'm late," Killian brushed his hand over her shoulder as he stepped around her seat, pulling out his own and seating himself along the side of the table close to her.
"Oh, it's fine." Emma smiled warmly at him, "I haven't got a damned thi-" She cringed, "I haven't got anything to do today."
"No need to sensor yourself around me, love," He chuckled, offering her a kind smile as the waiter came over to take his order.
"Still ordering macchiato I see." Emma smirked at him, watching as he toyed with the edge of his napkin, nervously. "I should have went ahead and ordered for you."
"You have an excellent memory." He chuckled and tapped on the rim of her cup. "Hot cocoa with a shot?"
Emma pursed her lips together, her eyes meeting his, "You remember."
"Well, how many hundred cups of cocoa did I make you in the span of a year?"
Emma laughed, the weight of the past years lifting from her shoulders, " More than I could count. They always improved my day... Among other things."
Killian brushed his fingers over the top of her hand, "Just as your presence has improved my entire year."
"Does the church know they hired such a smooth talking Father?" Emma motioned for waiter, ordering another hot cocoa.
"I hide it well," He smirked, shaking his head at her. "I never stopped thinking about you after all these years."
Emma ran her finger along the rim of her mug, looking down. "I never forgot you either. I tried. But, hell - sorry," She cringed, "But, look at us now. Hundreds of miles from where we first met and we're both here in the city."
"I believe that's what many would say is God's hand in all of this." He winked at her, sipping his coffee. "But I know you don't believe in all of that."
"Does your church know you're out fraternizing with a heathen?"
Killian arched a brow, "They know that I am having coffee with an old friend. You are not a heathen, Emma. You believe in what you want to believe in and that is all that matters."
"I believe in you." Emma added quietly, biting down on her bottom lip, "If that matters at all."
"It matters more than you know." Killian replied, touching her hand gently. "We should do this again sometime."
"Jones, keep up." Emma said with a teasing smirk, looking over her shoulder at her lanky friend who was trailing behind her. "They're going to find us if you don't hurry up."
"I'm coming!" He shouted as quietly as he could, trying to avoid causing his voice to echo around the sanctuary.
The distant sound of laughter could be heard, the children that they were watching hot on the trail of finding them.
"Come on," Emma grabbed his arm, jerking open the confessional and pulling him in with her. "Tight fit, but they won't look in here." She could barely hold back her laughter as he huffed and rubbed his shoulder. "That did not hurt."
"You've got a vice grip Emma." He retorted, meeting her eyes in the dimly lit space, "They're in the sanctuary now." Killian observed, listening to the sound of laughter not far from where they were.
"They won't find us." She whispered, pressing a finger to her lip and giving him a silencing look.
"Are you sure about that?" He mouthed, stepping a fraction of an inch closer to her, something shifting in his gaze. His eyes flickered to her lips and then back to her eyes, a shaky breath escaping his lips.
"Yes." She assured, a shiver running down her spine as she looked up at him, his breath dancing against her skin, lips mere inches from hers. It was going to happen. Finally. After the weeks of flirting and dancing around the pull, it was finally going to happen.
"Found you!" The door to the confessional swung open and they pulled apart just in time before the children caught them in a mildly compromising position.
Emma jerked awake, her body bolting upright in bed, head whirling with the movement. She hadn't dreamed of that incident in years, in fact she'd pushed it to the furthest recesses of her mind for a reason.
It hurt.
It hurt to remember something that she had wanted so desperately, but had been denied because it just wasn't the right moment. The right time.
Time.
Ten years had passed and she still wanted him – only him. No one else had filled that void that he had left. And it had been left because time was not on their side, nothing had been on their side and it was worse now. He had vows and commitments and she didn't fit into any of them.
Unless…
There was a verse, she remembered it vaguely from the few times she'd attended mass and because she was fairly certain there was an old song that used it for its lyrics. It had something about there being a time for everything. And perhaps, just maybe, this was the time for her to confess. To tell someone what she felt for him.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time toheal; a time to breakdown, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace – Ecclesiastes 3: 1-11
There was almost no one in the church. Every footfall echoed around the cathedral, making her feel as if the world was watching, despite how empty it was. She slipped into the confessional, pulling the door shut with a heavy sigh.
"Father forgive me for I have sinned."
Emma whispered, her heart hammering in her chest. She could hear the breath of the priest on the other side, but she couldn't distinguish the voice that came from it.
"What is your confession?"
Emma swallowed thickly, "I want someone that I can't have. I've wanted him for ten years but… I was an idiot and now there's no way in Hell that we're going to be able to be… anything."
There was simply silence from the other side of the confessional. Unnerving as it was, Emma knew who was there. The silence confirmed it.
"I've wanted a lot of things in my life, but I don't think that I've ever wanted someone this bad. And I can't have him…" She paused, "I can't have you."
Emma jumped to her feet when the door between them clicked, sliding open.
"Emma." Killian's voice was that much deeper, gravely and mixed with the desire that had been in her own voice. "What you said – about wanting me?"
They were close, the confessional giving them barely any space between them. Breath mingling together. "I want you." She assured, her eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips. "But… you can't."
"Yes I can." Killian retorted, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I shouldn't, but I can." He brushed her hair behind her ears, leaning closer to her, lips almost brushing hers. "I should have kissed you back then."
"We should have done a lot of things back then, but we were messes." Emma's fingers ghosted over the clerical collar, her eyes holding his gaze. "You should kiss me now."
"I have every intention to," He whispered, letting his lips meet hers gently, tentatively. But she clearly didn't want gentle, she wanted him. He groaned against her lips when she leaned against him, mouth working against his desperately. Her teeth grazed over his bottom lip, fingers winding through his hair, tugging at the strands.
It felt right.
Killian stepped forward, effectively bringing her back against the wall of confessional booth. They'd been side stepping this tension for the past month and now that their lips had finally met, bodies pressing against each other, it couldn't be stopped.
"We're going to get caught," Emma whispered when he began trailing kisses along her jawline, her hands sliding over his shoulders, tugging him closer despite her words.
"No we're not." Killian returned, his lips meeting hers again, hands resting on her hips, "I'm not letting something get in the way of this again."
"This is in the way though." Emma tugged at his clerical collar, "Haven't you got a God that will be unhappy with you for breaking your vows?"
He jerked the collar from his throat, letting it fall to the floor, "Then let me be damned." He kissed her again, hard and needy. This went against every vow he made to himself, every vow made to God, to those around him. But he had waited so long for this moment, for her, for them. He'd chosen God to fill the void she left when she went to Boston, but now he had Emma – here and God was not what he wanted. God had never given him what he needed.
He needed Emma.
A soft moan escaped her lips when she felt him press against her, his body flush against hers, solid and hard.
"Shh." He whispered, lips brushing over her ear, hot breath dancing over her skin, making her tremble against him. "We don't want to get caught, do we?" Killian's fingers went between them, working her jeans open, shoving them down her hips. He vowed to himself, that tonight, he'd give her what she deserved. On a bed, against cool sheets, savoring every minute of it. But, right now this was all they had.
"Killian," Emma mumbled, trying to keep quiet as he hoisted her up, legs wrapping around his still clothed hips. "You're too dressed." Her fingers tangled in his hair, looking down into his eyes, too impossibly blue to even be real.
"Hold on then." He stated, releasing his hold on her and letting her hold herself up against the wall. He jerked the zipper down, letting his slacks fall to the floor just as her jeans had.
Her legs tightened around him, drawing him closer, flesh pressed against flesh. "Oh God." She whispered, her lips parting with a silent moan.
"There's no God involved in this, love." He muttered, his hand tightening at her hip as he rocked forward against her, not quite giving either of them what they wanted.
Killian leaned in, catching her lips, keeping her quiet as he finally shifted and thrust forward, taking her. Now he knew what heaven felt like. Heaven was the warmth of her enveloping him, drawing him, giving him a place that felt right.
He pulled away from her lips, meeting her gaze, "This isn't a one time thing." He swore to her, kissing her softly as he rocked his hips forward, moving slowly. "You deserve this on a bed... After dinner.. Where you deserve it."
Emma's lips parted with a breathy, quiet moan, "I just deserve you. Wherever. It's what I always wanted." They'd taken their sweet time getting to this point, but now they had and it was everything she had wanted.
Killian's hands rested on her hips, holding her steady as he started to move, slow thrusts, taking his time with her. Savoring it completely.
She silenced her moans against his lips, kissing him as if her life depended on it. Legs tightening around him as she felt the onset of her peak beginning. Her muscles trembled around him, hips moving in time with his.
Lips parted, breath mingling, lips brushing, eyes locked on one another. Just a few more thrusts and they were there. Together.
Emma gave him a lopsided grin, a breathy moan escaping her lips when he pulled away from her, letting her feet fall to the floor. She thought he was going to pull away completely and dress again, but instead he leaned against her, keeping her pressed between the wall of the confessional and him. A welcomed sensation.
"How are you doing /Father/?" Emma questioned with a smirk, winding her finger through his hair.
"Positively sinful." He retorted, matching her smirk and kissing her. "Are you against having an affair with a priest for a few more months?"
Emma arched a brow, "Well I'm against him right now... But, what do you mean a few more months?"
"Until I find them a replacement," He stroked her cheek, "I would have never taken the cloth if you had stayed in Tallahassee. But now you're back and... Everything I felt is still here."
Emma let out a breath of relief, "God, I'm glad you still feel the same way, because I do too and..." A kiss could explain her feelings far better than words. She had always been horrible with words. Action first, reaction second.
"We should get dressed," Killian warned, cupping her cheek, "Before someone catches us." He gave her a wry smirk as he leaned down in the tight space to pull his trousers up. "Not that I want to leave."
Emma laughed, "A little more room would be nice though." She leaned up, stealing one more kiss from him. "I'm lucky that it was you on the other side of the confessional."
"I saw you come in," He winked as he leaned back to give her room to dress. "I dreamed about the time… in the confessional when we almost kissed."
"Shut up!" Emma exclaimed, "I dreamed about the same thing."
Killian gave her an incredulous look, "You did not." He smirked at her, stepping close to her and cupping her cheek, "Dreaming about almost kissing you is not as nice as being able to truly kiss you." He leaned in, his lips pressing against hers for a long moment, savoring the sensation. He pulled away, reaching for the doorway that he'd come through, "I'll see you tonight."
"Tonight?" Emma questioned, her eyes widening in surprise. "I'm assuming you're coming by my place."
"I hope you don't mind," There was that charming Killian Jones smile, the one that made her stupidly weak in the knees.
"Not at all, Father, I'll see you tonight." She ran her fingers through her hair, straightening out the knots and sorting out her wrinkled clothes, before she slipped out of the confessional, avoiding anyone who might look at her. But the sanctuary was empty and she knew that she had chosen the right time to heal and to love.