Killian Jones is not Emma Swan's favourite person.
He is way too flirty and way too confident, he has the attention span of a six-year-old and he eats too much candy and leaves the wrappers everywhere, he always prepares his presentations in the last minute and yet they are absolutely flawless, his dimples are really noticeable, his hair always looks good, he always, always, holds the door for her, he either leaves all the windows in the office open and soon papers are flying everywhere or he cranks up the heater until Emma is dripping sweat over her keyboard, he is obnoxious, and scatter-minded, and really, really attractive, and he starts singing Christmas carols the second Halloween is out the door, and he forgets to turn off his computer three days out of the work week and he is clueless when it comes to office drama and he is way too into STAR WARS and his laugh is like seriously loud, and he smells really good, and he is too competitive and too honest and too… Irish.
Killian Jones is most definitely Emma Swan's favourite person.
And it is the best kept secret she has ever had.
Emma is actually ridiculously proud of herself for having managed to keep all of their co-workers and Killian himself from finding out what she really thinks of the Irish menace. Especially considering all the things she happens to do for said menace.
Emma is now in charge of supplying the office kitchenette with drinks and snacks because… well, you see, Mary Margaret used to get this tea that Killian said was absolute crap but after she changed three brands the brunette finally gave up and told him to lower his tea standards. But Emma happened to know where they sold Killian's favourite brand. About half way across town. Mary Margaret was probably the nicest person in the office but even she wasn't that nice. And so Emma had to take over supplying the office cabinets and, naturally, pretend she had no idea Killian approved of the tea brand she bought (as well as those gingerbread biscuits).
Emma is now in charge of supplying the office with stationery because… well, you see, Killian is left-handed but, of course, he'd joke around and complain about every silly, little thing just to be annoying but he wouldn't actually ask David to buy left-handed scissors just because of him. And so Emma had to take over stationery and, naturally, pretend she had bought left-handed scissors by mistake (as well as those colourful paper clips that Killian claims made everything much easier and 'cheerier').
Emma also happens to be the one that turns off Killian's computer three days out of the work week.
And the one who orders Subway for the whole damn office when it's 3pm and Killian has yet to eat anything.
And the one who last Wednesday snuck around to his desk to retrieve his lost word doc, after he took a break from swearing at his computer and went to make himself a cup of tea.
And the one who in October snuck a beanie in his satchel, whose origins Killian tried to puzzle out for a week before the temperatures really dropped and he just started wearing it.
And the one who marched into Regina's office when she found out that Neal Cassidy from the other department was trying to blame a missed deadline on Killian.
And the one who is currently knocking on Killian Jones' door because it's 6:35pm on a Monday and he failed to show up for work or call anyone and… well, she was unable to come up with a sneaky way to check up on him.
She does however have a folder of sketches under her arm. So at least she procured an excuse. It will have to do.
She's been knocking for five minutes now and growing increasingly anxious when Killian finally opens the door and man, is she relieved. That he is home, of course, but also that, despite all prior evidence, apparently even Killian Jones doesn't always look perfect.
He looks sick as a dog as a matter of fact.
His hair is an absolute mess, his face and what she can see of his chest (which is quite a lot, thank you deep v-neck t-shirts) is littered in red spots, his gaze is unfocused and his sweatpants are riding dangerously low on his hips. Oh, and he is barefoot, and for some reason that part hits Emma harder than anything else. Right in the chest. About where, anatomically speaking, she thinks her heart resides.
"Swan?"
Oh, boy.
The accent… well, the accent is hot. Emma is far past the point of lying to herself about anything concerning Killian Jones – she's way too busy lying to him and everyone else. But, no, his voice all low and scratchy, it makes her furrow her eyebrows in concern in the same instant that it makes her tingle in… something other than concern.
"You… you forgot to call in sick," she mutters lamely, trying to determine what precisely is wrong with him.
Killian's eyebrows furrow in confusion and he tries to shake off what she now thinks are the remnants of sleep before his eyes widen a bit in alarm.
"Oh, bloody hell! Is it Monday?"
Emma's lips press into a thin line, her anxiety spiking up at his state of absolute disorientation. Killian promptly mistakes the expression for irritation.
"I'm sorry, love! Did Regina send you all the way here? For God's sake! What time is it?"
He walks back into his apartment, presumably looking for a clock and turning around like a lost little puppy. Emma takes the widely open door as a sort of invitation and trails after him. Killian finally locates his phone among a pile of blankets on his couch as she takes in his living room.
His Christmas tree is ridiculously half-decorated, as is most of his apartment. Love Actually is paused on his laptop and it is hot as hell in the room. There are at least three cups on his coffee table, some pills and papers and a half-eaten candy cane and is he fucking kidding?!
"Bloody hell!" Killian exclaims again upon seeing the time. "Just… tell Regina I'll work Saturday or New Year's or… something."
His hand jumps to scratch behind his ear and Emma is so familiar with the tick that she almost doesn't notice how it is more energetic and purposeful than usual. Almost. And then of course, he goes on to scratch his neck and his collarbone and-
"Do you have chicken pox?!"
Her voice comes out a bit higher than usual and Killian looks like a deer caught in the headlights, hand freezing and eyes widening in a way that reminds her of a much younger, much more scared version of herself.
"I-…"
"Killian…" she puts a hand to her forehead, closes her eyes, takes one deep breath and shakes her head before opening them again. "Okay. Leave Regina to me. Go to bed. Not the couch! Bed. And leave that candy cane right where it is! Jones, I'm not messing around."
Half an hour later his cups are drying in the kitchen, the candy is hidden away and Emma is making soup with carrots she would much rather have thrown away but at least his eggs seemed fresh.
An hour later Killian has eaten his soup and taken some pills and is giving her half-awed,half-confused-as-hell looks while Emma googles everything there is to know about chicken pox.
Two hours later Killian has begged a place on the couch again, claiming that he slept the whole bloody day and really doesn't feel like staying in bed and missing out on Emma decorating the Christmas tree. And Emma is decorating the Christmas tree because… well, you see, it's 9pm and she is running out of excuses not to leave.
"Pity you don't have a spot on your nose, could've pitched you for a Rudolph to David's Santa this year," she says as she tries to hang a red bauble so that it is exactly between two green ones and glances over her shoulder to see Killian giving her an unamused look. "Come on, that was funny! And don't scratch!"
Emma hangs a grumpy little dwarf figure, a little angel and two positively adorable ships (she almost asks if she can steal one) before getting off the stool she dragged next to the Christmas tree.
"What do you think?" she asks, taking a couple of steps back and tilting her head to the side, hands on her hips.
"It's wonderful. Glad I didn't finish it up myself," says Killian, sounding weirdly cautious and making Emma turn around to look at him questioningly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah… Swan, why are you decorating my Christmas tree?" he asks, confusion once again written all over his face.
"What do you mean?" she fires back, moving away to put the decorations she didn't use in the box next to the tree and conveniently avoiding any chance of eye contact.
"I mean why are you decorating my Christmas tree? And in no way do I mean to sound ungrateful but why are you doing any of this while we're at it?"
"Well, you just happen to be notoriously bad at taking care of yourself," Emma huffs before she can think of a better reply because he is.
"Pardon?"
"Like how did you even get chicken pox?! I didn't even know that was still a thing. They have vaccines for that."
"Yeah, well…"
And there was the non-pox-induced ear-scratch.
"You're kidding me!"
Her hands are back on her hips, only this time she is facing Killian, whose cheeks are now almost as red as the baubles on the tree.
"I forgot! It happens," he says defensively, refusing to look away first.
"To you. It happens to you, Killian. Jesus, how can you be so exact and precise with some things and then so negligent to everything that has to do with you and your well-being?! I can't call to arrange your vaccinations for you! I don't have power over things outside the office!"
"What?"
"What?" Emma glares at him, too caught up in her tirade.
"What do you mean 'things outside the office'?"
"… what?" she repeats lamely again but this time there's less fire in her voice as she realizes she has single-handedly blown her cover.
"Emma… do you… do things for me in the office?"
"No. What do you even mean- I- No," she grabs the box of decorations and moves it on top of his stool just to have something to do and she is about to just grab her jacket and go because this is bad. This is very, very bad.
"How did Ruby know about the concert?" Killian asks suddenly.
"What?"
"Ruby is my Secret Santa, how did she-"
"You're not supposed to know who your Secret Santa is!"
"She wanted to make sure I won't be going back to Ireland when-"
"I told her you'd-" Emma stops herself, eyes widening comically in the face of Killian's victorious smirk.
"What was that, love?"
"I'm not obsessed with you," she states coldly, her expression turning stony and finite as she hurriedly grabs her jacket and goes to put on her shoes.
"I didn't say that," Killian's voice is more hesitant now, almost concerned as he gets off the couch and follows her into the hallway.
"I know how this looks, Jones."
She knows how it feels too. Which is why she was so damn careful. Which is why she is so screwed now. Which is why she has to go right now.
"Emma, wait!"
Killian's hand closes around her wrist as hers closes around his doorknob. Emma doesn't pull away but doesn't turn around either. He can tell her off, she doesn't have to look at him for it.
"I wish I had some equally touching secret to share," he chuckles behind her and Emma's eyebrows furrow in confusion and now she can't help turning around.
His face is open and tender and his eyes are shining with wonder and damn, this was supposed to be the day that proves he is not always the most beautiful man she has ever seen.
"But maybe…" Killian ducks his head, his smile almost shy and it's so new and surreal Emma almost forgets how embarrassed she is.
Almost.
"You know how I'm really bad at remembering things?" he asks, a teasing gleam in his eye. "So I was thinking… it might help if you were around more… outside the office. And, you know, all these holidays coming up… I might miss them, if I'm not too careful. You'd better come over and remind me when Christmas comes… and New Year's."
Emma will really like to roll her eyes at him but it's a bit hard to do that and keep her smile in check at the same time.
"Plus, there's this lass I quite fancy," Killian grins at her, shuffling a bit closer. "And I happen to be her Secret Santa and I want to make sure I get her something she'd really like…"
"Hmmm," Emma looks at his lips and sways even closer so that they're almost pressed together. "I might have an idea or two."
She is just about to capture his lips in a kiss she has been imagining for an embarrassingly long time when he pulls back, a warning 'Emma' and his hands on her arms and what? She couldn't have misunderstood-
"Pox," Killian explains mournfully, glancing at her lips with more disappointment and longing than when she took his candy cane earlier.
This time Emma does roll her eyes.
"Some of us got their vaccines, you idiot."
And thank goodness she did.