No Good Deed (6/15)
Summary: Killian Jones is a gentleman. He and his brother pride themselves on the matter, even if it ends with harm to them. So when an angry ex of Killian’s client bites him, he tends to the wound, watches it heal, and thinks no more of it.Until he wakes up in a closet on his ship with no memory of what happened the night of the full moon.
Fleeing from the unknown, the brothers Jones find Storybrooke, and with it, Emma Swan, who is a lot more familiar with their situation than anyone could expect. And when an old foe comes to their new home, Killian has to rely on new talents to keep those he loves safe.
Rating: M for language, violence, some sexual content. (better safe than sorry)
Content warnings: violence
I couldn’t love @killiarious or @wellhellotragic or @captainswanbigbang more for all of the work they’ve done for me and for everyone. okay, enough of that, let’s get to the good stuff.
AO3
Chapter Six
Something changes after that transformation between the two of them. They’d always been friends, but Killian’s curiosity is through the roof.
In the quiet and privacy of her office, Killian begins his subtle interrogation of the sheriff. She shuts down almost immediately, not answering any of his rather personal questions but more than happy to share her gripes of the transformation.
She seems to have settled comfortably into her office: a pair of what looks to be department sweats in the corner, a handful of food wrappers in the trash bin, two picture frames with something important enough to remember in them. Her feet rest atop her desk, stacks of paperwork pushed aside as she munches on her sandwich.
Killian’s position mirrors hers, save for the takeaway cup of tea in his hand. They’ve grown comfortable with each other. Or rather, comfortable enough. Their conversations consist mostly of small talk, but not nearly at the percentage that it once was.
“What does Liam know?” she asks.
“In general? Not much, I’m afraid.” Emma rolls her eyes, the hints of a smile hidden behind her sandwich wrapper. He chuckles to himself. “I suppose you mean about our affliction. Or possibly our clandestine relationship?”
“You know I mean the whole wolf thing,” she says. “Don’t be a smartass about it.”
Shrugging, Killian lets his gaze go out of focus. “He knows enough,” he settles. “He saw me the first time I transformed, but he doesn’t know much else than it happens to me.”
The more he thinks about it, the more he knows that’s not necessarily true. He’s lived with his brother for a majority of his life, including the entirety of his time as a wolf. So he correct himself.
“Well, you know how men can tell their ladies are approaching their time of the month?” Killian glances up to see Emma nod. “Liam says I’ve got similar tells.”
That makes her scoff, which turns into laughter. “What, do you get bloated as well?” she asks in jest.
Now he rolls his eyes. “I only mean that I, for example, have a penchant for getting migraines. Things like that,” he explains.
“Ah,” Emma hums in understanding. “Well, at least you didn’t hit the jackpot.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
She smirks. “My period always seems to come just after the full moon, so I transform, change back, and immediately begin bleeding out of my vagina.” The manner in which she states is so matter of fact that it catches Killian off guard. He chokes on the drink of tea he’s just taken and nearly spits it out across the desk. Emma giggles around her sandwich. “Sorry, that’s a little too much information, isn't it?”
“No, no, not at all,” Killian says, trying to keep his lungs from revolting against him further. He takes a few deep breaths through his mouth. “It’s good information to have in the future.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” she asks.
Rolling his eyes again, Killian sighs. “I’m being practical, darling. We occasionally work together, we like to hang out in the woods together.” He gestures toward himself. “These are just the sort of things a man ought to know in lieu of an explanation every time.”
Emma moans and buries her face in her hands. Reaching across the desk to squeeze her arm, Killian offers, “I’m truly sorry you’ve gotten the short end of the stick.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” Peeking out from between her fingers, Emma opens her hands wide enough for her words to come out intelligible. “It’s really bad when all I want is chocolate, but it’s the full moon, so if I eat it, I’ll probably have an allergic reaction to it.”
“Really?”
She shrugs. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” she inquires. “Dogs can’t have chocolate because it’ll kill them. Wolves are just big dogs.” She groans, her head sinking into her palms once more. “I hate it so much.”
Standing up, Killian walks around her desk. He squats next to her seat and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “That’s something that no one should ever have to suffer through,” he commiserates.
“Well, too late,” Emma grumbles. “I do. On a monthly basis, no less.”
He’s not quite sure how to respond to that without being rude or without getting his head cut off. So he sits there next to her, rubbing her shoulder in his best attempt at comfort.
“Are you going to tell Liam?” She asks quietly, her eyes briefly peeking out from the cup of her palms. “About me?”
He pauses for a minute. Very few times in his life thus far has Killian actively kept a secret from his brother. News like this - that the new sheriff is a werewolf - asked to be shared. “Do you want me to tell him?” He asks back. It’s her life and her secret: she’s the only one who could really make that decision.
She shakes her head. “You can tell him later, but I just got here. Let me settle in.”
Killian can’t help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. “Swan, you’ve been here for a couple months now,” he reminds her. “At least two transformations, from what I can tell.”
“So?” She asks defensively. “It takes some people longer to acclimate to new situations.”
“And I’m not denying that,” he assures. “I’m just curious as to when you’ll consider yourself settled in.”
Groaning, Emma rolls her eyes. She pushes him off her, and he falls to the short distance to the ground gracelessly. “When I’m settled, you'll be the first to know,” she grumbles.
“Now leave. I’ve got to settle into more paperwork.”
“Aww, I’m honored.”
“Fine, fine, go be honored somewhere else.”
He follows her wishes, but not before loitering in the doorway. “What would make you feel better at that time of month that isn’t chocolate?” he asks.
Emma shrugs. “Hot tea, I suppose, with some cinnamon.”
Gesturing toward his head, Killian winks at her. “I’ll be sure to remember that next month.” Then he nods his farewell, her exasperated chuckle and poorly hidden smile a precious parting gift.
0000
“Liam, honey, have you gotten any calls about suspicious cars recently?” Elsa asks one evening as she helps put the dishes away. Confused, Killian catches his brother’s eye from across the room. He shrugs when Liam sends him an equally confounded look.
“No,” he answers slowly. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve noticed this…” Being as quiet and unintrusive as she is, Elsa is the one person Killian knows who notices everything. “Unique car around town that I haven’t noticed before.”
Liam and Killian share a look. “Unique how?” Killian asks.
“Well, it’s an old VW Bug. Bright and tired yellow.”
There’s only one person in town who would have that car. He should know with the amount of times he’s seen it in front of the sheriff's station. “Oh that’s-”
“Isn’t that Swan’s car?” Liam finishes the thought for him. How his brother has gotten this far in life as unobservant as he is, Killian can’t even contemplate.
“Sheriff Swan?” Elsa asks in clarification. Both nod their heads. Elsa hums and goes back to her tasks. She washes another plate nad picks a cup from the suds in the sink before saying, “She’s been here in Storybrooke a couple months now, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, love,” Liam answers, taking the clean cup and drying it. “Why would you say it’s a suspicious vehicle, love?”
She shrugs. “It seems like there’s a lot of stuff in the windows,” she says. “I don’t know how she can reverse. There are things that look like they might pop the windows out of place.”
“That doesn’t seem safe,” Liam comments.
“Especially not for the sheriff.” Killian frowns. He feels like he should’ve been paying more attention. Swan shouldn’t be sleeping in her car. She could at least have asked Granny for a room at her inn. He shakes his head and looks at his brother's back, hoping his gaze burns enough of a hole to get his attention. “Liam.”
“No.”
Killian groans, hitting his head on the plate he’s putting away. “You haven’t a clue what I’m going to say,” he reasons.
“It has something to do with the sheriff, also known as my employer, and knowing you, it’s either you want to have a roll in the sheets with her or you want to marry her.” Liam stops drying the dishes long enough to stare at him. “Either way, I am not supporting it.”
Elsa places a hand on his arm. “Liam, babe, hear him out.”
Sending her a grateful glance, Killian takes Elsa’s advice. “It was neither of those things, brother.” He points upstairs with a glass. “We have a spare room.”
“You mean the gym?”
“You mean the room with a spare TV and some random weights thrown about?” Killian sassily retorts. And deciding that that’s not the proper way to deal with this matter, he changes tactics. “I understand your concerns, Liam, but she’s a woman in need.”
Liam sighs. Turning to Elsa, he asks, “What if she stays with you, honey?”
Elsa shakes her head. “Anna’s moving in at the end of the month, so I’ve got no room.” A grin grows on her face, showing that despite her conciliatory words, she’s not sorry at all with how this situation is turning out.
Liam groans. Killian pulls out his puppy dog eyes, knowing since childhood that most anyone is useless against them. “It’s good form,” he chides.
“Ugh.” Rubbing at his forehead, Liam shakes his head. “Not for the first time, I’m regretting raising you by that code,” he mumbles. After a moment, he grunts. “You may offer her the gym room. But she pays rent.”
Killian claps and takes a step back, his hands up in surrender. “Perfectly fair.” Liam grumbles under his breath, nothing coherent, but it makes Killian chuckle. “You’re doing the right thing, brother. She’s a lady in need.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Elsa giggles, placing the last of the silverware in their proper compartment. She steps up on her tiptoes and whispers something that makes Liam blush and smile himself.
“Whatever you said to him, can you say it on a more regular basis?” Killian asks.
“Especially when I want something and he’s being the logical bloke.”
For what it’s worth, Liam does manage to smack him quite forcefully on his way out of the kitchen, his arm wrapped around Elsa’s shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
0000
At first, Killian tries to ask Swan to move in over dinner one night. He makes the food, she cleans the dishes, then they’ll sit and watch a movie, perhaps. In theory, it’s simple and straightforward. nothing really to get nervous about, he assures himself. He’s being a gentleman, offering a pretty good solution to a woman in a sticky situation. Emma would put up a fight, insist that she was fine as she was, sleeping cramped in that death Bug of hers, but he would make her see reason. She wouldn’t be half asleep on the job, therefore making her less susceptible to injuries or mistakes of the law. Really, he’d argue, it’s the best situation for all of Storybrooke.
And she would concede, because, in the end, she was logical. And her back was probably aching from weeks cooped up and uncomfortable in the Bug.
But none of that happened.
Instead, another interesting development occurs.
They eat dinner, the two of them, on a rare night where Liam is on the evening duty and she’s not hovering over him or finishing up the never ending pile of paperwork that rests on her desk. Since she brought pizza, Killian’s relegated to dish duty, leaving Emma to collect her thoughts and relax.
"Why's he always got to be so chivalrous? It makes him so much more difficult to be around."
"What was that now?" Killian asks, rubbing at his nose to try and hide his chuckle. When Emma doesn't respond, he turns around to see her looking at him. He'll admit, he was a little distracted trying to clean the dishes, but that doesn't mean that he wasn't paying attention. The expression on her face, however, says otherwise. Her brows are furrowed in confusion.
"I didn't say anything," Emma says, leaning against the counter, the mugs in her hands set down on the granite with a clink. "You're beginning to hear things, old man."
Killian scoffs. "Darling, I'm only your elder by three years. If you're really looking for someone to chastise over age, Liam should be home soon enough."
Turning back to finish drying the plates in the sink, Killian merely shakes his head.
What an ass. But, I mean, what an ass. Bounce a penny off that thing.
"Now, don't tell me you didn't say anything now," he chides her, the smirk in full force now. "I heard what you said of my arse, and there's nothing to be ashamed off. You're surely not the first person to have the thought cross your mind."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Killian raises a brow in flirtatious question in her direction. Her cheeks are bright red, nearly the color of the tomatoes in the salad they just ate.
He nods toward her. "Come on, now, Swan. No need to be embarrassed."
"How did you know that?" she asks quietly, curiously taking a step away from him.
"Do what, dear?" Killian inquires back. "You said it clear as day. 'Bounce a penny off my ass,' I believe was the turn of phrase."
"I didn't say that," Emma insists, her eyes wide. "I didn't say that out loud, at least."
"But you thought it?"
She nods her head slowly. "Yeah. I mean," she inhales deeply through her nose, "like you said, I can't be the only one who ever thought about it. You do have a great-" Cutting herself off, Emma closes her eyes and holds up an open palm. "Whatever. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything crude. And I certainly didn't mean to say it out loud."
"No harm done, Swan."
"And, to be fair," Emma continues, "I think it's pretty tame compared to some of the things I've heard you say about me."
"Pardon?"
Scoffing, she finally takes a step in his direction. "Sure, go ahead and play stupid."
Emma points an accusing finger at him, unsure smile growing on her face. "Don't pretend that you didn't say anything about..." A blush stains her cheeks again, this one deeper and more intense by the looks of it. "You know what, it's not appropriate to be said in the world again, but they were definitely interesting images."
"What is it that you're under the impression of me saying?" Killian asks, curiosity getting the better of him.
Emma chuckles. In a poor copy of his voice - badly accented and exaggeratingly low - she mimics him: "Under the impression of me saying." She laughs more heartily this time, approaching him. "Well, to start with the tame, there was the time you reveled in my scent. Springy, I think, was a word used."
He doesn't particularly remember saying that bit aloud, but Killian's thought it enough times that he can see himself being distracted by something else - Liam's imminent arrival, or a customer on the docks interrupting their conversation, perhaps - for it to have slipped from his lips.
Taking another step to him, Emma tilts her head, letting her hair fall in front of her shoulder, framing her smile perfectly. "Then there was the time that you said something about splaying me back on a bed," she says.
"Hold on now," Killian interrupts her, his own finger coming up to point at her. Stepping forward and coming toe to toe with Emma, he defends himself. "I know for a fact that I have never, nor would I ever, say such a thing about a woman such as yourself."
"Well, you certainly have."
Killian's scoff turns into a laugh. "Have not," he retorts. "I'm a gentleman, Swan. You of all people should be well aware of that matter."
Shaking her head emphatically, Emma counters, "No, I'm not saying you aren't a gentleman. I'm saying that all men have thoughts like that." She jabs him in the chest. "It was last month, before we transformed. You had brought the office lunch and you said something about the sunlight on my hair and how it would look even better on a Sunday morning, your bed covers beneath it."
Surprisingly, he knows precisely what she speaks of. He remembers the day quite well: it was rainy, effectively shutting down the harbor for a couple hours. Liam had complained the night before that the weather wasn't keeping the number of car accidents from occurring locally, so Killian thought he'd be a nice younger brother and friend and buy the sheriff's office something warm from Granny's. Emma had greeted him with a brilliant smile, one that grew wider once she learned he'd ordered her favorite onion rings. And, yes, the thought of sun, sex, and weekend breakfast had crossed quite close to the forefront of his mind.
"I never said that out loud."
"Yes, you did. I heard it."
Killian shakes his head. "No, I didn't say it out loud." His tongue runs from the corner of his lips to his front teeth. "But I did think it."
"Really?" she asks. "You actually thought that out before it came out of that mouth of yours and then decided it was a good idea anyway?"
"Swan, love, think about it," he reasons. "Do you really believe I would say something like that in a public place with a stash of firearms, my brother as a witness?"
That stops her train of thought. "Well," she hesitates, "I suppose you aren't that big of an idiot." She shakes her head, biting at her bottom lip. "But I heard you say it," she says, her voice strong and unwavering. "I remember hearing the way you said it. It was an unbelievably poetic way to say you've had sex dreams about me."
Glancing over the mention that, yes, Emma now has a better idea of how much of his brain space she takes, Killian wracks his mind for any sort of believable explanation.
"Maybe..." he says, the filler word doing its job. Killian searches the floor, as if it would give him the answer to this incredibly confounding problem. So he grasps at the closest straw, the one he uses to blame any sort of misfortune, not matter how small it might seem. "Maybe it has something to do with the werewolf thing."
Tilting her head the other way, Emma narrows her eyes at him. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe..." In his mind's eye, Killian reaches out a little further, the straw just out of reach. "It has something to do with how much we sort of..."
"Depend on each other?" Emma finishes the thought for him hesitantly. "Especially during that time of the month?"
They stare at each other for long moments, quiet, each processing the idea in their own way. The more he thinks on it, the more Killian believes it to be true. He's researched the topic of lycanthropy extensively. He recalls reading stories of packs having a sort of telepathy, of being able to speak without words while in wolf form.
It seems Emma comes to the same conclusion, for she breaks their silence with, "Does this mean we're a pack?"
Killian shrugs. "Can't say I'm one hundred percent sure." He takes her hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. "Is it considered a pack if there's only the pair of us?"
Emma shrugs back in response. "You've got the accent. I just assumed you'd know the definition to all the words I've never really questioned."
Chuckling at her slight jab, he shakes his head. A pack. The thought isn't unwelcome to him, but for someone who's been on her own for - well, her life, he wonders if the idea is as good for Emma as it might be for him. "If we were to call ourselves a pack," Killian wonders aloud, his voice slow and gentle so as not to frighten her, "would you be okay with that?"
Biting her lip again, Emma nods her head. "I think so," she finally answers, gripping his hand back. "I mean, it might take some time to get used to, but..." She trails off, her eyes going starry and out of focus. She's probably living a memory, Killian thinks, one not nearly as positive as this one could be, should she allow it. But soon enough, Emma shakes her head and comes back to him. "It'll be nice to annoy you without doing it to Liam as well."
Barking out a laugh, Killian pulls Emma into his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his cheek against her hair. He senses her muscles seize up and stiffen for a moment before she ultimately gives in, weakly returning the embrace.
He decides not to ask her tonight. She’s already raw as it is. Given this recent discovery, Killian thinks there’s been enough emotion and revelation today. As closed as she is on a normal day, this just might push her over the edge and completely turn her off from the idea of moving in with them at all. It might even force her over the town line all together, even if it seems she’s just come.
But now he knows that there is a connection between the two of them. Now, he doesn’t have to worry as much as he has been, because there is a previous sense of familiarity and comfort and pack. He’s more confident in his decision to ask her to move in with them, regardless of what Liam might say or believe.
Instead, Killian starts slowly introducing the idea. And she might not accept any of his invitations to their house, but her excuses become less and less outlandish. It gets to the point where he’ll ask her with a smirk and she’ll just roll her eyes, not even deigning him a verbal answer.
And then she accepts. On false pretenses, but she accepts it nonetheless.
He knows Emma is on patrol, because Liam’s spending the whole day catching up on his laundry and household chores like fixing all the doors that squeak, much to both of their annoyances. So maybe he abuses that knowledge and texts her to report a suspicious figure hanging around their house.
So maybe he made it up. She’ll forgive him for wasting her time.
(He doesn’t believe it to be a waste of time. The chances that Emma would actually run into serious criminal activity while on patrol in a sleepy, bucolic town like Storybrooke are slim to none. Mostly none.)
Killian’s putting the finishing touches on making his bed when a knock sounds on the door. He figures Liam’s gotten himself locked out - again - and the fool can make his way around back to the open door. He’s not saving his brother from his own stupidity for the fourth time today. Eventually he’ll learn to unlock the front door or prop it open.
Walking down the stairs to check on the laundry, Killian hears footfalls head toward the front door. Then he realizes that Liam is not locked out and also has no warning for the visitor Killian had invited.
"Oh," Liam starts, startled by the appearance of his boss at his front door. "Hello there, sheriff."
"Hi Deputy Jones," Killian hears from the hallway.
"Is there some sort of emergency you'd like my assistance with?"
"No, not today," Emma replies. "You can still enjoy your day off."
"Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Liam asks.
"Well..."
"She's here to see me, brother," Killian interrupts her, grin wide across his face. Emma's still standing in the doorway, wringing her hands at stomach level. The look on Liam's face when he turns to Killian is priceless - his jaw hangs and his eyes are blown wide. "Well? Aren't you going to invite the lady in, Liam? Weren't you the one who taught me about good form?"
Shaking his head, Liam seems to come back to his body. He mumbles, "right, right," under his breath and steps aside. Swan carefully takes a single step forward. When she finds herself still in one piece, she continues toward Killian.
"Come in, Swan." He guides her into the living room, asks for her jacket and if she would like something to drink as she takes a seat on the couch. "Liam makes a fine batch of lemonade," he says, trying to entice her.
With a light chuckle, Emma nods. "Sure, lemonade sounds great."
Stepping to the kitchen, Liam grabs on to Killian's forearm.
"What is she doing here?" his brother hisses. "I can't be hanging around the house with naught but my boxers on drinking beer instead of eating with my superior around."
"I mean," Killian hesitates, opening the fridge and removing the pitcher of lemonade, "you could. I just believe it would be smart if you didn't want to be chastised come Monday morning."
Liam pulls a face of disgust and frustration before slamming the refrigerator shut. "What is she doing here, Killian?"
“I’m offering her our spare room.” It’s not a complete lie: he does plan on bringing that plan up, but Liam can see straight through hise ruse. A frustrated sigh escapes Killian’s lips. "I fear I can't tell you, brother," he says. "It's not my secret to tell."
Narrowing his eyes, Liam watches as he pours Emma a cup of lemonade and put the pitcher back. And then he groans. "Killian, tell me you didn't have sex with her."
Somehow, Killian manages to choke on his own saliva. "Pardon me?" he asks, whirling around to defend himself and Swan's honor.
"Come on, little brother," Liam scolds him. "Don't lie. You can't say that you're not interested in her in the slightest."
"I wouldn't dare." Weighing his options, Killian takes a note from Swan's book and rolls his eyes with a moan. "She's like me," he finally says.
"She likes to sleep around?"
"Liam!"
"He means I'm a wolf. Or whatever we are." Both men turn quickly to find Emma standing on the threshold, her cheeks red and her teeth cutting into her bottom lip. She gestures gently behind her. "Your voices really carry in this place."
"You should hear him when Elsa’s over." Killian slaps his hand over his mouth as Liam glares at him. Slowly, his hand drags down to reveal the apologetic smile. "Sorry, brother, but it's true."
All but growling, Liam points an angry finger at him. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that again, Killian,” he threatens.
Knowing he’s made a mistake, Killian holds up both his hands in supplication. “I promise,” he swears. “And, for what it’s worth, I do apologize. It really did just slip out.”
Liam grumbles to himself as he exits the kitchen. Killian glances over at Emma, who just shrugs. Upstairs, a door shuts forcefully, followed by the stomping of Liam back down the stairs.
“Now that I know what you truly think, I’m going to go visit Elsa and leave you two to do,” Killian can imagine his brother wrinkling his nose and tutting, “whatever.”
Killian yells, “Send Elsa my love.” He gets no response, save for the slam of the front door, causing him to chuckle.
“He’s got a good point.” Her voice breaks him from his reverie. Turning around, he finds Emma with her arms crossed over her chest, a hip jutting up against the counter. “What am I doing here, Jones?” she asks.
After a brief search of the room, Killian licks his bottom lip and says, “Thought you might want to hang out with someone who isn’t on your payroll.”
Squinting her eyes in consternation, Emma gives him a dry, “Ha.” At his smug grin, she adds, “Am I that sad looking?”
“Not really,” he assures her. He sidles up to her though, mirroring her position with a hip of his own against the counter. Crossing his own arms, Killian hazards to say, “A little bird did tell me that you seem to be living in your death trap of a vehicle, though.”
Swan tilts her head. “Did they?”
Nodding his head, Killian replies, “Indeed.” With a shrug and his eyes on the floor, he casually offers, “And I thought, being the gentleman that I am, that maybe you’d want to move your belongings into something a little more stable.” He looks up, meeting her green green eyes. “Like our spare room, perhaps?”
He spots a flicker in her gaze. “Are you asking me to move in with you two?” she clarifies, her voice wavered and uncertain.
Sighing, Killian grabs her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Swan, you’re a public figure of authority in this town. You can’t be living out of your Bug,” he reasons.
“I have been so far.” She’s looking anywhere that isn’t him, and he can’t say that he blames her. From what he’s deduced, Emma Swan is a very strong, very independent person. To his knowledge, she’s never asked anyone for help, whether it’s directions to Granny’s or helping lift an entire couch from her office. She’ll figure out how to do it on her own, because that’s who she is. The only person who saves her is herself.
But sooner or later, she’ll have to let someone help her. So why not him?
“But how has transformation been?” he asks. Continuing to look at the floor, Killian she’s her nose scrunch in disgust, the corners of her mouth turn downward, and he makes a satisfied noise. “That’s what I thought.” When Emma still doesn’t look up, he sighs and lets go of her. “Look, Liam and I discussed this. You’d have to pay rent, but you’d have a roof over your head, a kitchen, a bathroom.” Her eyes move fractionally, catching his own in their peripherals. “Think on it, love.”
On a sigh, Emma lets her arms fall to her sides. “Killian, it’s a wonderful offer-”
He holds a finger up to her lips, effectively quieting her. “Don’t answer now,” he murmurs. “I’m serious. Think on it for a while.” She nods her assent, and Killian brings his hand down. “But while you’re here, we can spend the day together.”
Her brow arches in a move he’s positive she picked up from him. “I thought that was just a ploy to get me over here,” she says, following him cautiously as he makes his way back to the living room.
Shrugging, Killian flops on the couch, remote in hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t act on it.” He pulls up Netflix, and pats the cushion next to him at her dubious look. “Have any suggestions?”
She glares at him only for a moment before returning to the kitchen. Confused, Killian stares after her, craning his next on the couch back. She reappears a few moments later, two glasses of lemonade in her hold. Her smile is small, cautious, as she sets the glasses on the coffee table and takes a seat right next to him.
(He’ll take whatever victory he can get.)
They spend the afternoon bingeing Stranger Things, a show they’ve both heard a lot about, but neither have seen in entirety. A couple episodes in, Liam comes back from Elsa’s with the lady herself.
“And you must be Sheriff Swan,” Elsa says with a smile, taking the open seat next to Emma as Liam heads up to his room to change. “I’m Elsa.”
“Emma’s just fine.” The women shake hands and before Killian quite knows what’s happening, Stranger Things has been changed to Great British Bake Off and he’s been all but banished to the kitchen to help with dinner. They talk quietly to each other, eyes focused on the screen as the final minutes of a showstopper challenge dwindle.
“Not how you expected the evening to turn out, aye?” Liam asks, catching Killian watching the ladies from the kitchen.
“To be honest, I’m not sure what I was expecting this evening,” Killian admits.
The feeling, it seems, is mutual. When the hour is late, Elsa and Liam bid Emma goodnight and retire to his bedroom. As Killian ushers Emma to the door, well fed and tired, Emma turns to him. Her mouth opens and closes as though she’s at a loss for words.
(Yet another victory in his mind.)
When she finally settles on something to say, Emma asks, “Do you think we could do a little bit of a trial run?”
“What, as lovers?” Killian jokes. At her unimpressed expression, he shakes his head. “A trial run of what, love?”
“Living together?” It comes out as a question, as though she’s not sure she likes what she’s asking for. With a click of her tongue, Emma continues, “Today was great, but I’m…” she hesitates, but Killian knows what she’s going for.
“You’re afraid that something will go wrong and you don’t want to be cornered.” Weighing his options, he decides to reveal a little bit about his past. Hopefully, she’ll see it for what it is: a peace offering. “Aye, I’m familiar with the feeling. Like with foster parents that seemed to good to be true.” Her eyes widen and he winks at her, a special understanding shared between them. “We can do that. Whatever makes you comfortable, Swan. I just don’t want a lady such as yourself to be in such dire straits.”
With a lick of her lips, Emma smirks. “Careful, Jones,” her voice deep with flirtatious warning, “It’s almost like you worry about me.”
“Always, love.” He opens the front door for her, seeing her out to the front deck with a hand to her back. “So you’ll stay with us?” he asks, double checking that it’s what she wants.
She nods, then chuckles to herself. “I love my Bug, but my body can’t take sleeping in a car anymore,” Emma admits.
Killian laughs. “You’re not as flexible as you look?” he asks in jest. Shaking his head, he tsks. “What a shame, Swan. There go a slew of my fantasies.”
Rolling her eyes, Emma grumbles, “You’ll get over it.” She turns to head back to her car, but pauses on the first step. Facing away from him still, she says, “Um, and thanks” so quietly, Killian’s afraid he’s misheard her.
“For what?”
Spinning around, Emma shyly replies, “Today.” Her hands fidget at her waist. “It really was a nice day. Just hanging out with you and your brother and meeting Elsa.” Killian figured as much, given the numerous smiles and precious giggles he’d been privy to over the last couple of hours. “I’ve been here for a little while, but I haven’t really been able to just...”
“Be?” he offers softly.
Her cheeks redden and her shoulders deflate, and Killian recognizes it as a piece of her walls falling to the ground. It’s not outright, but it’s the closest she’s gotten to asking someone else for help in a very long time, he believes. “Yeah,” Swan mumbles, swaying from side to side. “So thank you.”
Killian inclines his head slightly. “As always, it is my pleasure, Swan.” She nods, her smile growing wider. “Call on me when you need some help moving your things. I’ll be there.” And then, deciding to indulge his more dramatic side because he can, Killian adds, “Until then, there’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you.”
His top victory of the evening, hell, perhaps even the whole week, is when she smiles back at him and says, “Good,” before descending the stairs and disappearing off into the darkness.
