The first time Killian says he loves her, it’s in his sleep. She’s having trouble keeping her eyes shut, her mind wandering all over the place, when suddenly he tightens his grip on her waist and mumbles into her hair.
“I love you.”
They’ve been dating for half a year, spending more time sleeping together than apart. Their friends have started joking about wedding bells and futures Emma isn’t ready to think about yet, but she always laughs along with everyone else, Killian squeezing her hand under the table when he senses her discomfort.
The truth is, she’s never been loved before.
It’s the oldest story in the book: unloved orphan never finds a home, lives out her young adult life completely independent, and unwilling to open her heart to anyone.
Killian could have stormed through her walls, forcing them down, but instead he’d pushed at them gently, patiently, until he’d found a crack through which he’d fit. The night when everyone else had gone home early and it had just been the two of them, he’d told her about growing up alone – a mother and brother dead, a father distant and then gone for good. She’d listened, eyes widening as she felt their connection forming and strengthening as he spoke.
She’d told him of her own past, and he’d cocked his head, as though seeing her for the very first time.
Afterwards, they were nearly inseparable.
It wasn’t like Emma had never been with anyone before. There had been Neal, the thief who’d tried to frame her but had screwed up his own plan, landing himself in prison. Then Graham, who’d liked her just fine but had been in love with someone else. She’d had flings and one night stands and everything else that fell just outside of the realm of an actual healthy relationship. But Killian was different.
He cooked her dinner and she washed the dishes. He let her pick the movies and the music, unless she was feeling particularly indecisive, and even then, he always chose something he knew she’d like. He held her when she was sad and cold and angry and also when she was happy and proud and excited. He laughed at her horrible jokes and shared her anger at her one co-worker who just couldn’t seem to pull their weight.
Maybe she does love him, actually. She thinks to herself, knowing that any shot she had at sleep is definitely gone now that he’s said those three words. She wonders if he’s thought it while conscious, but hasn’t voiced it for fear of scaring her off. He’s right to be afraid, as she’s definitely tried to push him away before when things became too much.
The first time she realized they’d spent a solid week sharing a bed at night, she hadn’t answered his calls for three days, until he showed up at her apartment with flowers and some version of The Princess Bride with extra scenes she hadn’t seen before, as though everything was normal. She hadn’t been able to shut him out when he barged in like that, and within an hour, she was in his arms on the couch, questioning why she’d wasted three days of her life avoiding someone who cared for her like this.
She’s still awake, wondering if she should tell him she heard him, or maybe just say the words even though she’s not sure, when light trickles in through her window. She’s glad she’s off today, that it’s a Saturday so she can be lazy and stay in bed for as long as she wants. He stirs beside her as she starts to finally drift off. She feigns sleep when he sits up, forcing her breathing to be even and slow.
“I love you,” he says again, but this time he’s awake and telling her when he thinks she can’t hear him.
He does mean it then, and is just trying desperately to let her know without sending her running for the hills. He kisses her forehead, and her eyes flutter. She pretends to wake up and he grins down at her.
They agree on breakfast in bed, and he goes to make pancakes and eggs to bring back for them to share.
She wonders if they should move in together. Maybe that conversation would be easier. It’s more logical than the emotions involved in the three words he’s whispered to her twice now. They spend nearly every night together anyway, so shouldn’t they save on time and rent and bills by just living under one roof?
Emma knows even as she thinks it that it won’t happen. She’ll never bring up cohabitating just like she’s not sure if she’ll ever tell him she loves him. She wonders how long he’ll stick around before he gets tired of constantly climbing the new walls that pop up around her. He’ll leave her, surely, when he realizes just how closed off she really is.
It’s just as well, since that would save her the trouble of trying to voice the fact that she's realized that she does love him. Undoubtedly and completely.
Shit.
He comes back into the room, a smile on his face and a breakfast tray he’d purchased a week ago just for occasions like this, when they don’t want to leave bed for any longer than they need to. There’s a rose in a vase on top and when he sets the tray in her lap, she sees the pancakes are shaped like hearts. She looks up at him, confused.
“It’s, um… Happy Valentine’s Day, Swan.” He scratches behind his ear, clearly thrown off by the fact that she hadn’t known what day it was. Were holidays like this important to him?
Emma is torn between trying to make holidays like this important to her because she loves him, and figuring that they can’t be all that great for each other if he believes in corny Hallmark holidays. She’s unsure of what to say when he speaks again.
“I know it’s a stupid holiday, and I didn’t get you a gift or anything, but I thought at least our first Valentine’s Day together should at least have heart-shaped pancakes. Or something.”
“So it’s… Valentine’s Day isn’t, like, important to you?” She finally finds her voice as he sits beside her, arranging his pillows – his pillows? – so he can lean against them. He laughs, reaching for a forkful of egg.
“No, Swan,” he says after he swallows. “It’s a false holiday made up to sell more candy and flowers.”
She leans over to kiss him then, nearly toppling the breakfast tray as she does so. He reaches out one hand to steady it while the other hand buries itself in her hair.
“I love you,” she says. She’s amazed by how simple it is to say once she’s resigned the fact that it’s the truth. He’s done so much before to get her to open up and let him in, that she thinks maybe for once she should do it on her own. “I love you,” she says again with a laugh, and he’s grinning at her, seemingly as shocked as she is by the admission.
“You do?” he asks, her chin in his hand.
She nods once, realizing that he hasn’t said it back yet. He said it first, really, but it didn’t count since he didn’t know she could hear.
“Well I suppose it’s a good thing I love you back then, isn’t it?” He’s kissing her again, and the tray in her lap nearly crashes to the ground before they both stop and stare at it. She gently takes it and places it on the ground. “I made you pancakes…” he whines halfheartedly.
“To hell with the pancakes,” she says against his mouth, and their breakfast grows very, very cold by the time they’re ready to eat.
OH HEY OH HEY FRIENDLY REMINDING THAT: TOMORROW IS VALENTINE’S DAY AND YOU ALL HAVE TO POST YOUR GIFTS FOR YOUR CSSV.
If you can’t by tomorrow, please, let your valentine know that you’ll delay a bit more!
(Or you can post your gift today, whenever you want.)
SPREAD THE WORD TO REMIND THIS TO EVERYONE, THANK YOU.
Alright @favoritefandoms, I’m your CSSV! I’m so sorry I’m posting this late! I really liked talking to you and getting to know you! It was great to make a new friend! I hope it’s worth the wait!
You mentioned you like AU’s so here’s a Coffee Shop AU. You also said you like friends/enemies to lovers, so I did a frenemies to lovers story! I hope you like it and I hope you had a great Valentine’s Day! xx :D
Every Saturday morning for the last year, Emma comes to the quaint coffee shop a few blocks away from her apartment building. Her days as a deputy keep her busy, but Saturday mornings are reserved for her chance to wind down and take a break. Enjoy her one hour of solitude away from work.
That is until the black-haired, blue-eyed nuisance started to show up.
Every time.
She still doesn’t know his name, hasn’t even spoken to him. The only form of acknowledgment is a nod and small smile when he walks through the door and sits at the table across from hers. (And the hint of mischief in his smile when it meets hers at the little game they’re playing).
All she knows is he came sweeping in one day, with his cocky nature and flirty attitude (he hasn’t flirted with her, but she’s seen the way he acts with the other women fawning over him), disturbing her peace. He deliberately chooses to come at the same time and day she’s there. She has thought about coming in at a different day to avoid him all together, but Emma Swan is not one step down, she was here first. This was her routine.
Plus, she found their little game too fun to stop.
She doesn’t even know how, but somehow he managed to learn what she orders.
And that’s when it begins.
The first time he walked in, she paid him no mind. Didn’t even look at him. The second time, their eyes met when he sat at the table across from hers, but then she looked back down at the book she was reading.
The third time, she couldn’t help it. Her eyes wandered up from her phone to sneak a glance at him. Then another. And another. She’d noticed how attractive he was the first moment he’d swaggered in, but this was the first time she allowed herself to really look at him.
Damn.
That disheveled black hair and those tight black pants. She could tell he had a strong, lean body by the way his shirt stretched between his shoulders.
Suddenly, Emma is aware she isn’t just glancing anymore when he looks up at her with those piercing blue eyes rimmed with eyeliner (that only makes him look hotter), a quirked eyebrow, and smug smirk on his face.
She looks down immediately and feels herself blush. Quickly, she grabs her things and makes a dash toward the exit.
The fourth time, Emma is making her way to her usual table when she’s confused to find a cup already waiting for her. She looks up to find Mr. Smug Face had arrived before her, looking at her with an expectant look and a smile that makes her feel wary. She sits down and takes the cup, uncovering the lid. It’s hot cocoa alright, the drink she orders every time, but it’s missing something.
The whipped cream and cinnamon.
How he knows her order is a mystery, but he knows about the whipped cream because he’d made a show of pointing out she had some on the side of her mouth last time before he’d caught her sneaking glances at him. (She doesn’t know he only caught it because he was doing the same).
Her face must have shown all sorts of offended for not having the perfect addition to her drink because she can hear snickering. Looking up, she finds that he’s trying (and failing) to hold back his laughter.
Emma narrows her eyes at him. Two can play at this game. Emma was never one to back down from a challenge.
And that’s how this back and forth started between them.
After his little stunt with her hot chocolate, the next time Emma makes sure to get there before him. She goes to the barista she always orders from and asks her if she remembers his order. She gives her a knowing smile, she doesn’t know why, and tells her he usually orders a coffee with cream and sugar.
Perfect.
Emma orders a black coffee and after checking to see he was nowhere in sight, she goes to place it in his spot. Smiling triumphantly, Emma sits back and waits for him to show up.
He walks in a few minutes later and she can’t help but admire his wind swept hair, the urge to brush it away from his eyes too strong.
As he takes a seat he spots her, then looks down at the cup in front of him. He raises an eyebrow in question, but she simply shrugs nonchalantly while smiling innocently. She can tell he doesn’t believe her act, picking up his drink anyway and tentatively takes a sip.
His face scrunches up in distaste immediately from the bitter taste and she can’t help the quiet giggles she isn’t even trying to hide.
And this continues on for the next few weeks. There’s always something missing from her drink, and she responds in kind. Once he really took her by surprise and managed to hide in the kitchen until she came. She was a bit disappointed to find her table empty, but waved the feeling away. He wasn’t important to her. She should be happy, now her Saturdays could go back to being peaceful.
She decided to order something other than her hot cocoa that day. She asked for a Frappuccino with caramel. The kind barista who always serves her hands her the drink and for some odd reason she looks like she’s trying to hold back a laugh. Unfazed, Emma takes a sip and notices that something is missing. Her caramel. She hears a chuckle and turns around to find him standing behind his chair. All she can do is gape at him. How could he have known her order? And it was different this time!
Both of them know what to expect when they come into the shop, but both continue to show up.
Every time.
It’s another Saturday morning and Emma walks with a light in her step, knowing she’s going to see her… friend… enemy… frenemy? She doesn’t even know what he is and suddenly she stops as she realizes something. She no longer sees him as the annoyance he once was. She now looks forward to their “meetings.” She doesn’t know what to think about it. He’s handsome, she can’t deny it. It’s the first thing she noticed about him. But she doesn’t know him. Should she ask him out? Simply talk to him and get to know him? Change the whole dynamic of how things are between them?
Emma bites her lip, contemplating her next move. She runs when she’s scared, it’s what she’s always done. It’s what she’s had to learn to do after growing up with no one to love her and the one time she thought someone did, he sent her to prison for his crimes.
It’s what’s protected her. But it’s also what’s kept out love and pushed any potential friendships away. This is the first real “friend” she’s made and although she’s scared to break whatever it is they have going on here…
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, making a decision. For once in her life she’s going to be brave and not let her fear rule her. She’s not going to ask him out, she doesn’t want to seem too forward or eager. But she does want to talk to him, to have an actual conversation in hopes of becoming friends at the very least.
She continues walking, making her way toward the shop in anticipation. It’s packed with more people than usual. As Emma makes her way to her table she notices that although it’s empty, no one is sitting there because there are no chairs. She furrows her brows in confusion and looks around to find there are no other available spots, when a cough catches her attention. She meets the amused stare of her “friend.”
Of course, the only other available chair is at his table. This time instead of a missing ingredient, it’s a missing chair. She rolls her eyes, but takes a seat.
Well this is convenient, she thinks since she wanted to sit down with him anyway and he’s just given her the perfect opportunity.
He perks up once she’s seated since he probably thought she would decline his invitation. She smiles at him shyly and looks down, finding a hot cocoa waiting for her. When she looks at him, he just nods encouragingly and she tastes it, finding that it’s perfect and just the way she likes it. After giving him a questioning look, she takes another sip enjoying her drink.
He clears his throat, “I couldn’t give you a drink you don’t like on our tenth date. It’s quite the milestone.”
Emma chokes on her hot cocoa for a moment. Once she can breathe she asks, “Tenth date? Did I miss the first nine?”
“Aye, your hot cocoa with no whipped cream and cinnamon’s the first, my greatly distasteful black coffee’s the second, and well I’m sure you remember the rest, lass,” he jokes.
His accent. It makes her want to swoon. Hold yourself together, Emma.
All humor disappears when he continues, “In all seriousness, love, I was hoping to ask you out. To dinner, or something,” he mumbles shyly.
It’s so different to see the man that oozed confidence, suddenly become this shy person whose cheeks have reddened. He’s rubbing his finger behind his ear, a nervous tick she’s sure.
“Oh,” is all she says.
Honestly he caught her off guard. She came in here, finally brave enough to speak to him, hoping he’d at least be her friend. He must think she’s not interested by the way his face falls so she quickly continues.
“It’s just you surprised me. I finally found the confidence to talk to you today, but you beat me to it,” she says with a reassuring smile.
Her words and smile have the desired effect. His face quickly changes from disappointed to relieved and a bright smile that reaches his eyes spreads across his face and she can’t help it when her smile widens just the same.
“Killian Jones, at your service,” he says as he reaches his hand out.
“Emma. Emma Swan,” she replies, placing her hand in his. He surprises her when he brings it closer, placing a kiss on the back of her hand, only giving her a cheeky wink when she shakes her head, but her smile never wavers.
It turns out Killian’s brother, Liam, owns the coffee shop which is how he knew her orders. The friendly barista is his sister-in-law, Elsa, who knew of Killian’s interest in her and the little game he started in the hopes of getting her attention, which explains those looks she’d give her.
She learns he works at the docks, he is good with ships, and moved to Boston a few months ago to be closer to his brother and sister-in-law as they are the only family he has. His mother died in childbirth and his father abandoned them when he was a child.
They sat talking for hours, getting to know one another. When Emma finally had to go home, reluctantly they said goodbye to each other and Killian told her he’d text her so they can set up a time for their first actual date.
She didn’t have to wait long since he texted her only ten minutes after she left and she laughed at how adorable he is.
Their first date is wonderful, both expected and unexpected. When they talked in the coffee shop, he seemed to be a gentleman and that’s how he acted on their date. When they played their game however, he was a different person. He was a mix of both on their date and she was happy to see that, see all of him. She also saw how easily she could fall for this man. And for once, the thought of falling in love didn’t scare her.
Many more dates follow and soon they find themselves celebrating their two year anniversary. Emma’s come a long way in the past two years. Not only did she find a man she loves and who loves her in return, she also found a family and friends.
Liam and Elsa were very welcoming, she and Elsa hitting it off straight away. When she didn’t have plans with Killian, she was with Elsa.
Since it’s their anniversary, Killian has a special surprise to mark the occasion.
He proposes that night. With an empty box.
“Seriously?”
He gives her a mischievous grin, then pulls out the ring from his pocket and places it on her finger.
She sighs exasperatedly, but he just kisses her while pulling her close. She can’t help but wrap her arms around his neck, eventually smiling into the kiss.
If you asked Emma what’s missing from her life, she’d say nothing at all.
Hi @hookedonapirate! I’m your CS Secret Valentine :) It was really nice talking to you and getting to know you over these days! I hope you enjoy your gift - Emma as a fashion designer and Killian as a model, and a small twist ;)
Beta by @wingedlioness.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
AO3 | FFnet
For someone used to not depending on small things to make her mornings, Emma sure found it hard rising from bed before hearing her neighbor downstairs sing his early tunes. He never spent a morning without welcoming the day with a song as if he was the happiest person in the world.
Of course, the only reason she even heard him was due to a few loose planks on her floor and her neighbor’s very thin ceiling. Her landlord had warned her about it, saying that they were going to fix it soon. But in her two months living there, no notice came, and honestly, she couldn’t complain. It’s not that she felt like she was creeping on him either. She couldn’t understand the lyrics, only the melody making it through her floor, and nothing else. No discussions, no other voices, just melodies of various music styles brightening her mood.
Today was different, as her neighbor - she still hadn’t learnt his name - sounded like he had a sore throat. He still sang, but coughed between phrases and his voice sounded rough. She kept listening until the sound of his door closing let her know he was gone, and she finally stood up.
Emma may have been a semi-famous fashion designer, but her style never stopped being casual. She enjoyed how it felt like it protected her from the world without making her look fake, though that wasn’t a detail she was used to sharing in her interviews.
So she put on her jeans, boots, shirt and leather jacket and took the subway to Snow White’s Fashion House. Cheesy name, she admitted, but the conditions were great, her pay good, and her boss extremely friendly to everyone, even Emma herself. And most of the models were nice too.
Well, most of them.
As soon as Emma entered the building, the first person she saw was Killian Jones, one of the company’s well-paid and most trusted models, as well as the only one-handed model working for a fashion house in the whole city. Killian working there seemed to have a very positive effect on the company and he looked quite proud of it.
Oh great, he caught her staring at him again. She expected another sassy remark from him, his way of flirting, but this time he only smiled suggestively at her, his one eyebrow rising before turning back to continue his conversation with Ruby, the company’s receptionist who could very well be working as a model if she only asked.
Entering her atelier, Emma was greeted by an Elsa who was grinning ear to ear. “Good morning, Elsa,” she said.
“Good morning, sunshine. Today’s your lucky day,” Elsa said and raised her eyebrows.
“What?” Emma took her jacket off slowly and eyed her co-worker cautiously. She’s only shared very few with Elsa for her to know what a lucky day for Emma Swan could be.
“Killian Jones will be coming today for a new leather costume. And I will be over at David because he asked for my help with some new dresses, which means you will be here alone taking his measurements,” she said and managed to smile even wider.
Taking his measurements. Which would mean… seeing Killian Jones wearing only his underwear, her fingers touching his bare skin, his breath on her as she worked around his body…
“Have fun,” Elsa said and walked through the door before Emma could react.
“Wait!” she shouted and ran towards her. She leaned outside and watched her go with her grin still on. “Elsa! Come back! Who will I scream at until he comes?” she almost hissed at her, which caused Elsa to laugh, her back still to Emma.
“Shit,” Emma whispered and closed her door. It’s not that she hasn’t been around attractive males in her line of work… but Killian, well, she had thought of him so many times in the past two months she’d stopped using his last name in her thoughts and got used to the idea that his looks had really swept her off her feet.
His behavior, however, being so cocky and arrogant all the time, was the last she was prepared for. Said behavior was the reason he hadn’t yet worked with Emma. Everyone talked about how hard he was to work with, and how Emma couldn’t possibly handle it. How little they knew.
On her desk lay a paper with all she needed to know for his new costume - which apparently was described as “black and extra skinny”, hence the need for new measurements. Before she even had a moment to collect herself, Killian opened her door without knocking and walked in, chin held high.
“Good morning, love,” he said. Funnily enough, his voice sounded harsh.
“I assume your voice was lost along with your manners,” she said without looking up at him. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that his stance hadn’t changed.
“Aye, screaming at a rock concert late at night will do that to you,” he said without missing a beat.
“Losing your manners or your voice?” she said, finally glaring up at him.
“Apologies,” he said and took a bow.
A bow. Was he serious?
She looked at him warily for a few seconds, measuring tape in hand, wondering what to tell him to get started. Finally she said, “Undress.” It was the coolest verb she could find without making the command sound sexual.
His eyebrow went up anyway, for the second time in a few minutes. “As you wish.”
Come on, Emma, focus.
Killian finished undressing, and Emma had to put on all her professionalism to stop herself from doing anything out of line. He was just a handsome model, she’d seen plenty of them before. Few of them however were allowed to keep their chest hair. As Killian rarely posed half-naked, in favor of deep V-necks or half-open shirts, his chest hair was perfectly intact and just perfect.
She cursed herself for wearing tight jeans, as she felt her knees starting to tremble a little. Luckily, Killian was looking high up, so she approached him and put the measuring tape loosely around his neck. They were both used to it - Killian having other people touch him non-sexually and Emma touching models non-sexually. But she would lie if she said she didn’t feel his heartbeat raise for one single moment when her fingers touched his chest as she folded the tape between his collarbones. She felt goosebumps on her own as his breath caressed the skin of her arms.
She took off the tape and turned around to write the numbers on a paper, and she could swear she saw him raise his hand and scratch behind his ear. As soon as she turned back, he was smiling again, though this time it looked less suggestive.
Next came his chest. Great. Trained as he was, he raised his arms on his own so that she could wrap the tape around his torso. She definitely didn’t need to lean into him so much in order to do that, but as awkward as it was, she didn’t comment on it and went on.
“Hold it for a sec,” she told him after measuring and his hand flew to his chest, brushing her right one as she took it off the tape to write the next measurement. That definitely needn’t have happened, but he wasn’t complaining. She dared a look at him, and was surprised to not see him too amused by that. Well, he seemed fine, but the smirk he’d greeted her with seemed too long ago now.
After she measured his waist, he took care to not touch her hand, so that wasn’t an issue, but then came the time to measure his hips.
This time, she actually let herself wonder what could happen if she touched him there.
Oh crap, Emma, come on.
She felt relief to see that all went smoothly as she carefully wrapped the tape around his hip. The fact that she did feel relief actually surprised her.
She measured his legs, which was not weird at all with her hand actually going very close to his crotch, and then finally came the time for the arms. She would lie if she said she was never curious, so she threw a glance at the stump on his left wrist. She knew that she wouldn’t need to - and maybe she shouldn’t - touch it at all to measure the arm, but she felt the desire to touch it, not out of curiosity, but for the same reason her heartbeat had raised since she started working on him. She was glad she was standing behind him.
“Have you tried ice-cream from the parlor across the street?” he asked suddenly.
She looked up at him, focusing on his very soft looking hair. “Not yet. I’ll only indulge if I’m certain their rocky road is decent enough.”
“Hm, haven’t tried that one yet. Their grapefruit one is worth it.”
“Who even eats grapefruit-flavored ice-cream?”
He tsked. “It’s got lots of vitamins, Swan.”
“It’s full of sugar. Aren’t you supposed to, not eat that kind of stuff or something?”
“Don’t pressure a model on their diet, please,” he said with mock embarrassment.
“I never do and you know that.”
“I do, love.” His smile now seemed terribly nice and she couldn’t tell if he was faking it or not. But their casual discussion - quite possibly the first one they had since they met - distracted her from the nervousness she felt after touching him all over. She had finished measuring him yet she still stood next to him having small talk. While he was naked save for one piece of clothing.
She cleared her throat and turned her back at him, pretending to work on his measurements in order to give him the time to dress again. This would only be the first part, as later she would need to actually check the fabric while he would be wearing it.
It wouldn’t be a very lucky day if she got fired for unprofessionalism.
Luckily for her, Killian’s schedule changed before she’d finished the costume and he had to leave, so Emma went on with her other projects until she finished for the day.
Overworked as always, Emma entered her apartment and collapsed on the couch. She rubbed her eyes with her hands and waited until the relaxing tune of her neighbor’s rough singing was heard.
She suddenly opened her eyes in shock. Killian’s voice was also rough this morning, but that didn’t stop him from babbling all day. She’d never seen her neighbor and didn’t know his name, plus there were more than a few mailboxes without name tags on them in the entrance of her apartment building. But she had been living there for two months, wouldn’t she have seen Killian around if he really was her neighbor? Plus, she couldn’t believe an arrogant guy like Killian Jones would be singing silly happy songs like Mr. Sandman at seven in the morning.
Her neighbor coughed enough times to make Emma worry a little. If his apartment was as simple as hers, the chances of him having a roommate were thin, so he probably was living on his own. Emma turned her head and looked at the unopened Orange & Ginger Tea package that was lying on her kitchen counter. She heard another series of coughs.
To hell with it, what did she have to lose?
She poured hot water in a thermos, took two porcelain mugs and two tea bags, placed them all on a serving tray and walked downstairs to his apartment door. She stood there for almost a solid minute, trying to find an excuse why she was there as she listened to him sing a variation of House of the Rising Sun. She sighed and finally rang the bell. What was she even going to do if it really was Killian?
“Coming!” she heard from inside. Emma froze. She was almost sure that was how Killian sounded like that morning but still, what were the chances-
Before she could finish her thought, the door opened to reveal Killian Jones, fully dressed in black silk pyjamas and hair wet. His mouth opened in surprise.
“Swan? What are you doing here?” His eyes scanned her up and down and focused on her fluffy slippers for a few seconds.
“I… live upstairs,” she said, her voice low. “I thought I could introduce myself to the neighbors.” She felt stupid for not also bringing the cookies she hadn’t opened since buying them last week.
“At nine in the evening? With tea?” He didn’t look like he was judging her, just a lot curious. Finally, he shook his head and stepped aside, letting her in his apartment.
“I… heard you cough,” she admitted without looking at him and bit her lip.
“What?”
She looked around at his apartment. It looked the same size as hers, though even cleaner than hers.
“Yeah,” she finally turned, her hands gripping the tray so hard her knuckles were starting to get white. “Your ceiling is very thin and some planks on my floor are loose so some noises slip through”. She bit her lip again when she saw him almost blanch. “Don’t worry,” she rushed to say, “I can’t actually hear what you’re saying. I can hear murmurs and… singing, and only today, your coughing.”
As if on cue, he started coughing again. Some of the color seemed to return on his face.
“So I thought I could bring you some tea,” she said and raised the tray for emphasis.
“Uh…” he said and dropped his head a little, “thank you for your consideration.” He actually blushed. Killian fucking Jones, famous model and beloved by thousands of fans, was actually blushing and smiling shyly. He scratched behind his ear, as she had sort-of seen him do that morning.
“I’m sorry, is it a bad time?” she said.
“No, no, I won’t be going to bed for an hour. Uh, you can… sit down.”
Emma couldn’t believe that he actually sounded nervous. She sat on the couch, opened the thermos and poured hot water into the cups, letting the tea bags soak it in. Killian sat on the armchair next to her and watched her silently. Emma stifled a yawn.
“So, you can hear me sing, uh?” he asked, the bravado in his voice returned.
“Yeah. Some of my favorites are those that sound like sea shanties…” she looked up at him. “They are sea shanties, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they are. But you can’t hear the lyrics, you said?” He was leaning back on his chair and he raised his eyebrow, hand and wrist resting on his lap.
“No. Why?”
“Oh, nothing,” he replied with a shrug. “I gather you’ve learned this one,” and he started humming a melody.
“Yeah, you’ve sung this one many times. What do the lyrics say?”
He smirked. “You don’t wanna know.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“Well, sailors weren’t known for being coy.”
“And you think that I haven’t heard lewd songs before?”
He reached over and took one mug. “Then, maybe I’ll sing it to you when I’m trying on the leather costume.”
Emma regretted saying anything. He was going to make it way harder for her.
“Hm, that’s very good,” he said after tasting the tea.
“One of my favourite flavors,” she replied. “Not one many brands have.”
“Thank you again,” he said and cleared his throat. “It was the last thing I expected tonight.”
“The tea or finding out we’re neighbors?”
He blushed again, though little. He huffed a laugh. “Both, I guess. How come we never met before?”
“You always leave for work and come back earlier than I do, and I’ve only been here for two months.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was about time we did,” she said carefully. For a few seconds, he was looking at her, as if trying to read her, and she relaxed when he finally smiled softly and nodded.
She didn’t realize how quickly time passed. She stayed there and they talked casually, she asked him to sing, and he did, until he complained with mock self-pity about his tired and sore throat. The night went by and the last thing she remembered was him talking about a fashion show in Paris.
Next thing she knew, she was waking slowly to the lyrics of Sweet Child o’ Mine. She hummed in satisfaction. Her neighbor’s - Killian’s - voice sounded less rough today. Actually, it sounded clearer than she’d ever heard it.
Then she started getting a scent that reminded her of sea, and leather, and... lavender. She never used lavender fabric softener for her sheets. She opened her eyes.
According to the alarm clock on the nightstand beside her, it was 8:15 in the morning. The bedroom was bright and simply furnitured, and completely unfamiliar to her.
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place
Where as a child I'd hide
And pray for the thunder and the rain
To quietly pass me by
She sat up on the bed. That was definitely Killian’s voice, and the structure of the bedroom reminded her of her own. She was wearing her clothes from yesterday night and had apparently been taking the whole bed.
Oh, sweet child o’ mine…
She rose and followed the voice to the kitchen. Killian had his back half-turned to her, leaning on the counter as he cut a pineapple into slices. On the table was a jug with fresh-looking orange juice, a few slices of rye bread and a jar with honey, along with silverware, two plates and Emma’s serving tray, with the two mugs from yesterday lying on it upside down.
“Good morning, love,” he said, turning to her. If she hadn’t known that he, as well as other Brits, used the word “love” for basically any acquaintance of his, and if she hadn’t been wearing her normal clothes, she would have been happy to imagine that this was a morning they were going to spend as something more than simple co-workers.
“Good morning. What happened last night?”
“You fell asleep on my couch. I tried to wake you up but you were dead to the world. So I… carried you to my bedroom, and don’t worry, I had just put new sheets.”
She was sure she was looking like an idiot but couldn’t stop her eyes from bulging and her eyebrows from rising. He had carried her, as in, bride-style and put her to bed? “And where did you sleep?”
“On the couch. It’s pretty comfortable, I have to admit.”
“Oh,” was all she could say. She sat down at the table. “Thank you.”
“I guess we’re even now,” he said with a soft smile. He looked happy.
She wrung her hands together. “Hardly,” she said. “I just brought you some tea and you let me sleep in your bed because I was too lazy to go upstairs in my own place.”
“You weren’t lazy, you were tired.” He sat on the chair next to her. “Pineapple?”
She obliged and took a slice. It was really tasty. “You work a lot, and it was Friday so it would make sense you would be a little extra tired,” he added.
“A lot? How do you know that?”
“Well, the Nolans are famous for their nice attitude towards their employees, but not for their lenience. If you weren’t hard-working you wouldn’t be where you are.” His voice sounded very calm, and his face looked warm, relaxed and happy. He seemed happy to just spend time with her. He was still in his pyjamas, a few buttons on the top undone, his hair a slight mess and his eyes a little puffy from sleep but he looked the happiest she’d ever seen him.
Quickly, she pulled herself together and raised from her chair. “I should get going. I have to go shopping today,” she lied. She didn’t even know why she had stayed that long and hadn’t run out the door the moment she realized she was still in Killian’s place.
“Oh, don’t you want some juice?” he asked as he raised as well.
“No, it’s- it’s okay, I…” she trailed off as she looked into his eyes, closer than ever before. They were blue, very blue, and they were twitching slightly, as he focused on each of her eyes at a time, and then they flickered towards her lips. They only lingered there for half a second but that was enough to send Emma forward, crushing her lips to his. She more felt than heard his soft oof at the sudden contact but kissed her back quickly. Her one hand grasped at his shirt while the other rose to touch the nape of his neck, fingers softly brushing his dark hair. She could faintly hear his breath getting heavier and faster as he opened his mouth for her, his hand barely brushing her middle, as if uncertain if he was allowed to touch her.
Suddenly, she stopped. Eyes closed, she leaned her forehead into his, lips almost still touching, his warm breath caressing her lips and chin. Her hand left his nape to rest just a little under his collarbone, and she felt his heart beat in a rhythm as erratic as her own. She opened her eyes. His body was leaning towards her as if asking for more, and his eyes were still closed. He definitely didn’t regret it, and if she was to be honest with herself, neither did she.
Slowly, she stepped back. He raised his eyes and looked at her with his lips slightly open, expecting her next move. Who the hell was he really?
“See you Monday,” she said simply and walked out the door without looking back at him. After closing the door, she leaned on it and let her body slide down, sitting on the floor. The kiss was… well, hot. He smelled like spice and sea salt and was actually kissing her back, not taking more than she was giving. He barely even touched her himself. She sighed. She felt like the infatuated school girl she never got to be.
They weren’t exactly friends. They barely even worked together, they’d barely spoken yet she’d felt so comfortable throughout the night, but how would he react if she kept avoiding him the whole weekend? For her, it would certainly be a hard weekend to get through, especially if he started singing again. She stood up and for two seconds contemplated knocking on his door before she turned around and almost ran to her apartment.
It was only after she’d closed her own door that she realized she had forgotten her tray at Killian’s place.
I sent you a lot of messages, but then I saw you were having problems with them. I didn’t want you to think that I hadn’t sent you anything. I also didn’t want to not make you something, even though we had never talked. I hope you have a wonderful Valentines day. Maybe now we could talk?
“Not that I disagree with you, love, but may I ask why?” Killian tried not to laugh.
Emma Swan had been dating Neal Gold for the better part of two years. Despite the fact that her best friend, Killian Jones, had been adamantly against it from the start. Neal was a spoiled, childish ass and Emma was… Emma.
Killian’s misgivings about Neal hadn’t had anything to do with the fact that he was in love with Emma. Not at first, anyway. As time went by, and he realized how strong his feelings for her were, his hatred for Neal grew and grew. Every time he bailed on her for “guys night” or nagged her for not having dinner ready when he got home from work, Killian’s blood boiled. And he knew about each and every one of those instances because Emma called him every single time.
He tried his best to avoid negativity in his life, but his feelings for Neal were the one exception.
“Just… he sucks. And I hate him.” Her anger dissipated and she was crying. Shit.
“I’m on my way, Swan.” Killian hung up the phone and climbed the three stories between his apartment and Emma’s. Neal had been crashing with her for six months or so, but he did technically still have a place of his own, so Killian was hoping he was gone.
The door opened before he even reached the landing, and there was Emma. Red-faced and teary-eyed, hair in a sloppy bun with pieces falling down all over. He pulled her into a hug and she sobbed against his chest. He slowly backed her into the apartment, not letting go, but knowing she wouldn’t want to be seen if one of the neighbors came up the stairs while she was crying. He gently led her to the couch in the living room, kicking the door shut behind him as they went.
“What happened? Last I heard, you two were…” Killian trailed off, leaving words like blissful, happy, in love left unsaid.
“He cheated. The fucking bastard.” The anger was back now. “Apparently it’s been going on for weeks. Maybe even longer. She’s like, the daughter of some businessman his dad works with. They met through their parents and Neal ‘didn’t have the heart’ to break up with me.” She shook her head. “I hate him.”
Me too, Killian thought to himself. But Killian had hated Neal since they’d gone to high school together. Neal had been an ass then, too, and a bit of a bully. He’d never done anything to Killian himself, but he’d had enough of a reputation that Killian hated him anyway. That Neal had now broken Emma’s heart, after treating her like garbage for most of their relationship anyway, only increased Killian’s strong hatred for the man.
“We should get back at him,” Emma said suddenly, looking directly at Killian for the first time since he’d arrived. “Ruby’s having that party next week. We should go together. He’ll be so mad.”
Ruby Lucas was notorious for having parties that started off classy – 3-course meals, at least three wine options, and occasionally even a waitstaff if she could get the employees from her grandmother’s diner to do it for cheap – and ended up with half the guests passed out on the living room floor. Killian was sure her Valentine’s Day party would be no different. And while he wanted to be there to support Emma, and he’d love to see the look on Neal’s face when they walked in the door together, he also didn’t want to watch Emma and Neal get wine-drunk and rekindle their romance.
“I don’t know, Swan. Maybe give it some time and he’ll—”
“Killian, I am not getting back together with Neal. Not after this. I want him to feel the way I feel right now. And you were going to the party anyway, weren’t you?” Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, but she looked more alive than she had in… probably weeks, Killian realized.
“I wasn’t planning on it, actually,” he admitted. He found himself continuing without thinking. “But if you want me there—”
“Yes! Killian, I do. I mean, I did anyway, but now I positively need you there.” She stood suddenly. She was plotting and pacing. “We’ll show up, holding hands, acting like we’re dating. I bet Neal brings this new bitch, too. I wonder if she knows I exist. Oh man, if she doesn’t… maybe she’ll dump his sorry ass, too. Wouldn’t that just be perfect?” She stopped her laps around the room and looked at Killian expectantly.
“Yep, perfect.” Killian couldn’t help but feel like he’d just signed up for a battle he wasn’t quite ready to fight.
~~
The night of the party, Killian was still unsure if this was the right move. But Emma looked incredible, wearing a skintight pink dress that she must have purchased post-breakup, because it looked brand spankin’ new.
Oh no, Killian could not think about spanking while out with Emma Swan, pretending to date her. Nope.
He sighed as she grabbed his hand while he knocked on the door. He’d wanted Emma to hold his hand for years, but not as a prank to make someone else jealous…
“Hey you guys! I’m so glad you could make it!” Ruby embraced Emma as soon as she opened the door, and then froze as she noticed their hands, still intertwined. “Oh my God did you guys finally—”
“No, we—”
“Yes!” Emma cut Killian off, squeezing his hand so hard that her nails dug into his flesh. “I know, Neal and I just broke up, but I’ve kind of had a thing for Killian forever. Seemed silly to wait, so here we are!” She held up their linked hands in a victorious motion. Killian forced a smile.
“Ugh, it’s about time!” Ruby hugged the two of them together. “You two have been making goo-goo eyes at each other for like, years.”
Killian turned his head to look at Emma as Ruby released them, allowing them entrance. He caught a blush forming on her cheeks before she shook her head, causing her hair to block his view.
Neal was surprisingly absent, leading Killian to wonder how much longer he’d have to put on the most painful charade of his life. She clutched his hand, sat in his lap, and clung to him like a life raft. After about an hour, Killian started ignoring the pang in his heart. Instead, he squeezed her hip and nuzzled her neck and purposely forgot that this was all an act to make someone jealous. Especially since that someone wasn’t even present to witness any of the over-the-top flirtations going on as Ruby refilled wine glasses over and over again.
Killian generally didn’t get wine drunk, but Ruby just kept bringing him more every time he finished a glass, and soon he was warm from the alcohol and from Emma Swan’s body pressed up against his just so. She was more sober than he was, and sitting up completely straight, mindlessly running a hand through his hair. She turned to look at him, a sparkle in her eye and a small smile on her face. And before he could talk himself out of it, Killian leaned forward to catch her lips in a kiss.
It was quick and chaste, but they may as well have had each other right there on the armchair they shared for the amount of stress he suddenly felt in his chest. There was tension in his shoulders and Emma’s hand had stopped moving. She was staring at him and he couldn’t read her expression—
And then she was kissing him. It was soft and slow, almost lazy. But she was smiling against his lips and his hands were creeping up her back. Her fingers were in his hair again, but where before they had combed, now they tugged. Killian was lost in the moment, in the wine, in Emma Swan kissing him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Neal.
The whole room – every couple who’d been snuggling on a separate piece of furniture, Ruby with her ever-present and seemingly endless bottle of wine, each and every person – stopped their conversation, their movement, everything on the spot. Everyone stared right at the newcomers: Neal and a girl no one had met before. Killian felt his hands curl into fists from beneath Emma’s shirt, and his jaw clenched as Emma’s eyes lost their sparkle and her lips turned downward.
“What I’m doing is none of your business,” Emma said flatly.
The girl Neal had brought was looking around the room in confusion.
“Neal, who is that?”
Oh dear, did the other woman not even know she was the other woman?
Emma seemed to come to the same realization, and a wicked smile formed on her face as she stood from Killian’s lap. He felt cold immediately, and wished she would come back. He found himself unable to move, mesmerized by whatever plan Emma had concocted so quickly.
“I’m his ex. We broke up a week ago. My name is Emma.” She was positively grinning now, no doubt waiting for everything to blow up in Neal’s face, just as she’d wanted from the start. Just as Neal deserved, really.
“Last week? No, Neal and I have been dating for almost three months.” The girl, who still hadn’t been introduced to anyone, shook her head in disbelief.
“Oh wow, he didn’t tell you? Yeah we were together for two years. He practically lived at my place.” Emma was shaking a bit and Killian reached forward to grab her hand. She couldn’t lose her nerve now. She surprised him by squeezing his hand once and then continuing to hold on.
“Tamara, don’t listen to—”
“Um, hi, did you forget that you’re in a room full of people who saw you with Emma at Christmas? And New Year’s? And literally every Tuesday for Trivia Night?” Ruby picked up an empty glass from the coffee table, filled it with wine, and handed it to the girl – Tamara, Neal had called her. “You’re welcome to stay, but he has to go.” She placed a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow at Neal.
For his part, Neal looked completely shocked by the order of events that had occurred since he’d walked in the door. But Ruby would never let an innocent girl get hurt by a liar like Neal if she could help it, so Killian wasn’t remotely surprised. Tamara took the glass of wine and sat in one of the few empty seats left in the room.
“My dad probably won’t like this very much.” She took a sip and stared at Neal for a moment, considering. “If you leave right now, I might not tell him that you lied to me for our entire relationship, and he might not break off his business dealings with your father. Maybe.”
“This is—” Neal stopped himself when Tamara pulled out her phone with her free hand, never once taking her eyes from him. Her finger hovered over the screen, ready to make a call. Neal grumbled a bit, but saw himself out before he could dig himself an even deeper hole.
When he left, the entire party cheered and clapped. Ruby hugged Tamara, who looked like she might cry despite how tough she’d been to Neal’s face. Emma collapsed back on top of Killian’s legs.
“That was… well it was bloody brilliant, Emma.”
“It wasn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt that girl…” She was staring over at Tamara, who was downing her glass of wine while Ruby yammered on about what a loser Neal was.
“She had to find out, else she would have been even more hurt later. Just like you were.” He reached up and gently turned Emma’s face back towards him. She smiled. “Listen, Emma, about before. I was… we were…”
“Did you not like it?” She tilted her head.
“I didn’t say that.”
They stared each other down, a standoff to see who would speak first or move first or just fucking do something already first. In the end, Emma won. She crashed her lips back into Killian’s, her nails scraping his scalp as she tugged at his hair again.
“I’ve wanted to do that for an embarrassingly long time,” she whispered against his shoulder when they finally pulled apart. She adjusted her body so she was curled up against him.
“Me too, Swan. Probably even longer.” He spoke into her hair.
“We could probably do it again sometime.” Her voice was muffled and strained, like she was falling asleep but wanted to get her thoughts out first.
I’m your CS Secret Valentine! It’s been so lovely to get to know you over the past few weeks, and I hope you like this fic I put together for you ;)
AO3
GALENTINE’S DAY , Emma began to type. She’d been assigned a story on the phenomenon and was less than eager to get started.
“It’s like Valentine’s Day, but with your friends. The girls. The gals, if you will,” Regina had said earlier that day.
“Right but… I don’t have any ‘gals’ to celebrate with. I’m the worst person to assign this story to. Give it to, like, Mary Margaret. She’s probably got enough friends to have Galentine’s Day every day of the week.” Emma really didn’t like to turn an assignment down, but this was just so out of her realm of expertise. She normally did stories that required hours of research and difficult-to-obtain interviews. She’d nearly forced her way into politicians’ offices and snuck into at least three press conferences she hadn’t been invited to.
Storybrooke Press was a no-name newspaper in a no-name town, but it was Emma’s paper and it was her town, too, dammit. She loved stories that exposed hard truths and made people question everything they were being told.
“Mary Margaret’s got some sort of special romance story she’s working on,” Regina had rolled her eyes. “She wants it to be a surprise, but I told her I obviously have to give the ‘OK’ before it goes to print. Regardless, she’s busy. Galentine’s Day is yours.”
Knowing there would be no arguing with Regina anyway, Emma left her office in a huff. Now, she sat in front of her computer, the cursor blinking at her, taunting her.
It wasn’t just that Emma didn’t have any ‘gals’. She didn’t have any… anything. She’d grown up alone, bounced around within the foster system until she’d finally aged out of it. She’d tried her hand at romance, but Neal Cassidy had been the wrong person to try it with. He’d done nothing but lie and cheat, but at the very least, her story about him had gotten her onto the paper to begin with.
When he’d left her broken-hearted and just plain broken, Emma had written a detailed account of all of the jobs they’d pulled – every store robbed and every pocket picked – right up until the stolen watches he’d left in some locker on the other side of the state. She’d written it as a form of self-healing, posting it to a blog she’d kept anonymous.
Regina had been intrigued by her writing style and her voice and had emailed the address Emma had created for the blog. She’d asked her to come into the office. Regina promised to keep the blog separate from the conversation, to never bring up Emma’s past that she’d revealed.
It was unconventional, but it was the first time Emma had seen a future for herself. From the moment she’d walked into the Storybrooke Press offices, she’d felt a sense of comfort that she could only assume felt like coming home.
But just because the writing world had welcomed her with open arms, that hadn’t mean her co-workers needed to do the same. Emma knew she came across as a bit prickly and standoffish, but she’d been alone for… ever. She didn’t know how to approach people with anything less than a large amount of distrust and a small dose of fake smiles. The ladies at the paper all knew she was faking, and made no attempt to coerce her into conversation.
Except Mary Margaret.
The lead writer for the Lifestyle section, Mary Margaret Nolan was the kindest, most giving and open person Emma Swan had ever met in her life. There were times – like when she was sick, and Mary Margaret reached into her purse for tissues and cold medicine; or when she’d locked her keys in her car and there was Mary Margaret with a wire coat hanger, shimmying the window down – when Emma really wished that she could have been adopted by the Nolans. They were the same age, of course, but there was something distinctly motherly about Mary Margaret and Emma felt like a kid again whenever she came around with her freshly baked cookies or collecting signatures for someone’s birthday card. Her husband, David, had come to visit once, delivering a full bouquet of flowers to his wife, but also a single flower for everyone else in the office.
It was part charming, part ridiculous. Emma secretly loved it.
Still, even Mary Margaret was no match for the sky-high walls Emma had built around herself. At first, Mary Margaret had tried inviting her to group outings – trivia night, bowling, happy hour, you name it – but Emma declined, and she stopped asking.
Staring at the yet-to-be-written story on her screen, Emma nearly jumped out of her skin when the very subject of her thoughts spoke from behind her.
“Oh, Regina gave you that story? That’s so lovely!” Mary Margaret was nothing if not genuine, despite all the times Emma had tried to see some sarcasm or skepticism in her tone, a darkness behind the light in her eyes. “Have you decided who you’re going to take?”
“Excuse me?” Take where? , Emma thought to herself.
“Well, which girls you’ll be taking out for Galentine’s Day, of course!” Mary Margaret was bouncing on the balls of her feet, and Emma breathed out a deep sigh.
“I hadn’t really planned on throwing a Galentine’s Day… thing. I’m not sure who to invite.”
Mary Margaret’s jaw dropped.
“Oh, Emma, you should come to mine! We’re going to that restaurant across town with the silly pirate statue out front. They do a really great brunch special to celebrate!”
“I’m sorry, The Jewel of the Realm does a special for Galentine’s Day ?” Emma tried to keep the nasty tone out of her voice, she really did. She snorted, despite herself. “They probably just want all the girls to come in so they can hit on them.” To Emma’s surprise, Mary Margaret giggled.
“Probably! But it’s worth it – all-you-can-eat for two people for twenty dollars!” She bit her lip. “Please come, Emma. I’d love to help you with your story, and some of the girls from the office will be there, and some of my other friends, too.”
“How many… how many people, exactly?” Emma really didn’t relish the idea of sitting at a table with a ton of strange women, watching to them get champagne-drunk on mimosas and listening to them talk about… what did large groups of women talk about? Emma assumed that on a day like “Galentine’s”, they didn’t talk about men.
“Hmm,” Mary Margaret silently counted on her fingers. “I think I’ve got five for sure, including myself. Six, if you agree.” And there she went, bouncing again. Emma resisted the urge to put her head in her hands and instead forced a smile.
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
“Oh, Emma, that’s fantastic! We’ll be there at ten in the morning, and stay till about noon.” Before Emma knew it, Mary Margaret was hugging her, bending down and wrapping her arms around both Emma and her chair.
The things we do for journalism , Emma thought to herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~
At roughly quarter after ten, Emma strolled into the Jewel of the Realm. It was packed, with laughter echoing in every direction. Emma heard champagne glasses clinking and smelled a whole lot of bacon.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
“Emma! Over here!” Mary Margaret was waving her arms over her head from a round table with one empty seat. Emma made her way over and Mary Margaret jumped right in with introductions. “So you know Ruby and Elsa from the office,” the two brunettes waved and looked at each other, seemingly surprised that Emma had actually shown up for something, “and this is my neighbor Belle and my childhood best friend, Ashley.”
Emma lifted her hand up in a small wave and promptly took her seat, eager to have all of the attention focused on literally anything in the entire world but her .
The conversation picked up quickly, and Emma felt a bit lost. Here were five women who’d clearly known each other forever. They were talking about memories Emma wasn’t a part of, stories she hadn’t been present for. She had nothing to share, nothing to add.
“Emma, what was your favorite birthday party theme when you were a kid?” Mary Margaret asked her suddenly. “Ashley and I had a joint party one year and everyone dressed up as princesses. It sounds so silly, but it was so fun at the time!”
“I um… I never had a themed birthday party.” It would have been easy to lie, to say she’d had a princess theme too, and to simply agree with everything the other girls said, but Emma was never going to get a story out of this ridiculous day if she didn’t participate on some level.
She was a journalist, dammit.
The table went silent for a moment.
“Me neither,” Elsa said. Every head at the table turned her way and Emma instantly felt herself cool off. “My parents passed away when I was very young. My sister and I were raised by our aunt, and she didn’t really believe in large birthday parties. We each got a cupcake or a few brownies, but never a party.” Her eyes met Emma’s from across the table.
“I was raised by my Grandma,” Ruby jumped in. “She’d bake me a cake or something, but I almost always had to work at the diner on my birthday once I was old enough. No bouncy castles for me, either.”
Emma cleared her throat.
“I was raised in the foster system.” Oh God, what have I done? She hoped Elsa and Ruby didn’t think she was trying to out-do their stories, make her own childhood sound worse, as though it were a competition. “I get myself a cupcake on my birthday every year now, though,” she added with a shrug. “We all have our traditions, I guess.”
She looked around, and all the women at the table were smiling at her.
On her second trip to the buffet, she was so focused on the seven different bread options, that she completely missed the man behind the station talking to her.
“Miss?” he said, and he sounded exasperated, as though he’d said it more than once. Emma looked up and instantly felt herself blush.
A man with dark hair and blue eyes, who looked as though he hadn’t shaved in three days, was staring at her. And he was hot .
“Sorry, yes?” Emma blinked a few times. He grinned, clearly pleased with himself for catching her off guard.
“I was asking you if you’d like bacon, ham, or sausage.” He winked. Oh, God . Emma tilted her head.
“This is the bread station,” she replied, instantly feeling absolutely ridiculous. The man laughed good-naturedly.
“Yes, it is. But the meat station is up ahead, and my brother asked me to find out what you’d like, so he can have it ready for you. That okay?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked at her, waiting.
“Oh. Okay.” He was far too good looking to be taking her breakfast order on a day when she wasn’t supposed to be talking about men. Or was she? Was that rule ever actually established? “Bacon, I guess.”
“Excellent.” He walked away and reported her order to the man at the grill. The man handed over the spatula and Emma watched as the dark-haired man started cooking her food himself. It shouldn’t have been hot, but she found herself biting her lip. Focus, girl!
“I thought you said your brother was manning this station,” she said as she reached the grill, plate half covered with a slice of wheat toast alongside an everything bagel.
“I told him this was a special order, so he could take a break.” The man looked up from the grill, his eyes meeting hers. “That okay?”
“You ask that a lot,” Emma mused.
“I try to make sure I’m not offending anyone,” he grinned, passing the sizzling bacon from the grill to her plate.
“You’re not,” she smirked at him. Belatedly, as she sat back down at the table, Emma realized they’d been flirting.
By the time noon came around, Emma was full of mimosa and eggs and toast and bacon… and a little more mimosa.
Spilling her past about the foster system had been tough, but once it was out in the open, Emma found it easier to relax and tell stories – good and bad – about her childhood. She listened to Belle’s stories about her beast of an ex, and shared her own gripes about Neal. Mary Margaret talked about her struggles to get pregnant and Emma found herself tearing up.
“You can adopt me,” she said before she could think better of it. The whole table laughed, and for a moment, Emma was embarrassed.
“Um, me too, please!” Ruby shouted.
“You and David have enough room for three grown adult women to become your adopted children, right?” Elsa was nearly crying with laughter.
And then they all had tears streaming down their faces, and Emma wasn’t sure how much of it was out of sadness for Mary Margaret’s struggles or their own pasts and how much of it was out of pure, unadulterated amusement at the idea of David Nolan being surrounded by four adult women, three of whom were proclaiming to be his children.
She was nearly out the door, check paid and phone numbers exchanged with girls she’d barely even known a few hours ago, when Emma caught the eye of the man who’d made her bacon.
“How was it?” he shouted from his post – he’d moved onto eggs, apparently.
Emma found herself walking back into the restaurant towards him.
“It was decent,” she shrugged. His jaw dropped.
“Just decent?”
She shrugged again.
“Let me cook you something else.”
“I’m pretty full, actually. Mimosas and eggs and toast and all that.” She looked up at him, wondering what his next move would be.
“Tomorrow then.” He was determined, the set of his jaw and the furrow in his brow told her as much.
“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” she laughed. He raised an eyebrow.
“Have you got plans?” She couldn’t read his face or his tone anymore.
“Well, no, but—”
“Great. We’re having a Solo Special. If you come in and let me, Killian Jones, co-owner of The Jewel of the Realm, cook you the meal of your choosing, it’s on the house.”
“I’m sorry, you’re offering a free meal tomorrow?” A short gentleman serving himself some eggs interrupted. Killian didn’t turn away from Emma’s stare.
“Only for her,” he said simply. “She said my bacon cooking skills were decent. I’m simply out to prove her wrong.”
Jaw hanging open, Emma was speechless.
“What do you say, then? One-time only offer. Unless you like the food. And me. Then you can probably come again some other time and chances are, I’ll cook you something on the house again.” He winked at her.
Flirting, again.
“Okay,” Emma was surprised to hear herself say. It must have been all of the mimosas. She’d see if she actually felt like showing her face in this restaurant again when she woke up clear-headed.
“What shall I place the reservation under?” he asked her as she turned to leave.
“Emma Swan,” she told him, and she left.
~~~~~~~~~~~
GALENTINES DAY , Emma typed in a brand-new Word document. She hadn’t gotten any further than the title in her original attempt, but starting fresh with a brand new perspective felt like it would be good for the story.
For someone who grew up on the outside looking in, Galentines Day seemed like little more than an excuse for a bunch of women to get drunk on mimosas and complain about their lives. There didn’t seem to be a point to it – don’t ladies get together all the time to talk about menial things? Why a whole day dedicated to it?
But then I realized Galentines Day is about more than just champagne served before noon.
Valentine’s Day is about showing the person you care for romantically that you cherish them. You show them love every day, but on one day every year, you’re allowed to get as cheesy and romantic and heart-eyed as you deem fit. You can get sappy and wax poetic about the first time you met, and how their eyes struck your soul or some other over-used line that would seem out of place on any other day.
Galentines Day is about showing your friends that you cherish them. It’s about sharing your past and your present and your hopes for the future, and about making new friends when you didn’t think you could. It’s about appreciating each other in a way that maybe you don’t go out of your way to do the rest of the year.
And maybe it’s also about drinking champagne before noon.
It turned into a late night and an early morning, Emma writing and editing and writing and editing. She made it strictly factual, then added opinions back in. She shared one of her own experiences from brunch, then erased it for fear of exposing some part of herself she wasn’t ready to share.
She handed in exactly 700 words to Regina exactly nine minutes late, but there were no complaints, and both women seemed to think they’d won, somehow.
“So, are you going back to see that hot guy today?” Ruby asked Emma at lunch. Apparently, making friends also meant that Emma didn’t have to eat her lunch alone at her desk anymore. She was invited to the diner next door, owned by Ruby’s grandmother, with the rest of the girls.
“What hot guy?” Emma, of course, knew exactly what hot guy, but she hadn’t realized that anyone else had even noticed their interactions from the day before.
“Don’t play dumb,” Ruby grinned. “I came out of the bathroom and saw you talking to the guy at the egg station. I thought I heard him offer you a free meal.”
“Wait, the owner of The Jewel of the Realm offered to cook for you?” Elsa’s voice reached a record-high pitch.
Ruby, Mary Margaret, and Emma all turned to her, surprised by her reaction.
“I’ve had a crush on Liam for forever ,” Elsa admitted. “I go there, like, once a week, hoping I can get his attention somehow.”
“Liam? Oh… that must be Killian’s brother,” Emma realized.
“There, now you have to go back!” Ruby grabbed Emma’s hands. “If only to set poor Elsa over here up with Liam.” She gave her best attempt at a puppy dog pout, but only ended up looking like a model posing for a photograph.
By the end of lunch, Emma was pretty sure she was going back to The Jewel of the Realm.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hello, do you have a reservation?” The hostess smiled at her.
“Um, maybe? If I do, it’s under Emma.” She couldn’t believe she was here. It was Valentine’s Day, and some stranger was cooking her dinner. Was this a date? It seemed like a date. But did dates generally cook you food… in the restaurant you were eating in?
The hostess grinned even wider, somehow.
“Emma Swan?” Emma nodded. “Yes, there’s a reservation here. You can follow me.”
The girl led her to a table off to the side, somehow just a bit quieter than the rest of the restaurant. There were two place settings and a candle in the center of the table.
“Killian will be with you shortly,” the hostess told her, as though Killian were just another server and not the owner of the damn restaurant .
What the hell was Emma doing here?
She sat for a moment and considered getting right back up and walking about, but a man approached her with a wine list and she decided that if nothing else, alcohol would certainly help her feel a bit more at ease. She’d done all of the flirting in the world yesterday with just a bit of champagne in her system after all.
She chose a cheap white from the bottom of the list, but she knew as soon as she tasted her glass that it was top-shelf. Cheap wine didn’t go down that smoothly.
“I hope you didn’t order a low-grade wine because you thought you’d have to pay for it,” Killian said as he sat down, seeming to appear out of nowhere.
Emma blushed.
“I told you this was on the house,” he raised an eyebrow at her.
“You said the food was on the house,” she pointed out, unfolding her napkin across her lap, simply for something to do.
He sighed.
“The whole thing is on the house, Swan. You’re lovely and I would have asked you on a proper date for Valentine’s Day, but I own a restaurant, so this is pretty much the best I can do.” He bit his lip, and for the first time, Emma realized that he might be as nervous as she was. “Is this okay?”
“This is nice,” she assured him. “It’s great, actually. I’ve never had anyone cook me a meal before, so you’ve got a low bar set for you.”
“No one’s ever cooked for you?” He looked far more surprised than she’d expected. She shrugged and shook her head. “What’s your favorite food? We’re talking, last meal before the electric chair, guilty pleasure, absolutely cannot live without it meal.” He stood as he spoke.
“Um, I don’t have a very refined palate,” she admitted. She admitted that she’d grown up on lukewarm French fries and day old peanut butter sandwiches, mostly.
He smiled.
“Chicken tenders and onion rings it is.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
Wine with a kids meal , Emma thought to herself. The epitome of romance .
Killian came back with a huge pile of onion rings and a basket of chicken tenders. It smelled incredible, and Emma’s mouth began to water.
“I know it’s not exactly a romantic meal, but I find that eating whatever food makes you happy also helps you enjoy the company you’re with.”
“Is that some long-winded cliché you just made up on the spot?”
He grinned.
“Maybe.”
“So, did you make all of this fresh, just for me?” She hadn’t kept track of how long he’d been gone, not wanting his staff to catch her glancing at her phone constantly. They were no doubt all watching her, and she didn’t want them telling her she was an impatient jerk who couldn’t wait for her food to come out.
“I did,” he said. He at her, and she met his eyes. She believed him.
The food was unsurprisingly delicious.
“How are you able to sit and enjoy an entire meal in the restaurant you own on such a busy night?” She asked him as she finished her third glass of wine.
“My brother’s running the floor right now, he’ll come and get me if he needs me.” Killian sipped his water, still working despite the fact that this was very clearly a date.
“Speaking of your brother, I have a friend—”
“That blonde girl from your party yesterday? Oh God, please tell me she’s interested in him.” Killian rolled his eyes. “She’s in here constantly and all Liam does is whine about how pretty she is, but he won’t just go and talk to her.”
Emma laughed, and Killian tilted his head.
“She is,” she said when she caught her breath. “When she heard the owner of this place was cooking me dinner, she almost lost her mind. I had to tell her it was you, not your brother.”
This time, Killian laughed with her, and they must have looked quite the pair, cracking up with a half-empty bottle of wine on the table.
“Bring her with you next time, then.”
“Next time?”
“Yes, if… if you want to come back, that is.” There was that nervous smile again.
Emma nodded.
“I do. This was… nice.”
“Killian!” came a voice from the opposite end of the restaurant. Killian’s eyes closed as his head fell forward.
“I’ll be right back ,” he assured her, reaching over and squeezing her hand before he went.
He was only gone a few moments, but he looked much more disheveled upon his return.
“I’m afraid we’re down a cook, so I’ve got to head into the kitchen and take over. I’m so sorry. I hope—”
“Do you have time to walk me out?” Emma bit her lip, feeling the buzz from the wine bring a flush to her cheeks. She pulled out her phone to order an Uber. “I’ve got… six minutes until my driver arrives.” She looked back up at him.
“Yeah, I can spare that,” he grinned. He helped her into her jacket and offered her his arm. They walked out of the restaurant together, and the hostess erupted into giggles as soon as they passed her.
“This was a really nice night, Killian. Thank you.” Emma told him as soon as they were outside.
“I’m glad. I was a bit nervous you wouldn’t come.”
“I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But the girls at work convinced me that it was a good idea.”
“I’ll have to thank them sometime.” He took a step closer to her.
“When should I come back with Elsa?” she asked, feet glued to the spot they were in. Would he come closer still?
“Whenever you like. I’m usually not here Tuesdays and Liam’s not here Thursdays. Other than that, I’m all yours.” He was nearly flush against her now.
She tilted her chin up, wondering if people still kissed on the first date. She thought for a moment about how horrible her onion breath probably was, but before she could consider it too deeply, he was kissing her.
He stopped quickly.
“Was that ok—”
She grabbed his jacket and kissed him again. Her phone buzzed with the arrival of her Uber. She pulled away and sure enough, there was the blue Ford Focus she was supposed to be waiting for.
“I’ll be in on Friday,” she told him before she could think better of it, and climbed into the car. She could see him through the passenger side mirror, touching his lips and staring after her, and she smiled.
