There's a gaggle of girls surrounding him by the door, Anton towering behind them with such gentle patience you can sometimes forget that he is almost 7 feet tall. He winks over Killian's head and Emma just smiles, shaking her head as she packs up the last of the keychains and phone cases into the worn leather suitcase Killian uses to hold his merch. It was a packed show tonight, the only thing stopping the fans from watching Killian onstage being the flow of drinks from the bar. Alcohol tends to lead to more opening of wallets, so business was good. Making a mental note to tell him he needs to restock his download cards, she gives one last glance at the door to check how much longer she has to wait.

Killian's hand is anchored in his belt, his head cocked down so he can look up at the brunette with the stripper length hair extensions through his thick eyelashes. The bastard knows what the ladies like, she'll give him that. Luckily, she knows it's all for show, part of the act he's mastered to sell albums, or at least get likes on his Facebook page and views on his YouTube videos. The music industry is not for the timid and most definitely, not as glamorous as people think. Emma knows that as soon as Anton ushers this last fan out the door, Killian will be upstairs in her loft above the club with his stupid socked feet on her coffee table (actually an old door balanced on two cinder blocks she found in the dumpster) eating the cold pizza they ordered three nights ago because neither of them can afford to order another one.

By the time he makes it up, it's after 1:30 am and she's already tucked into her side of the couch in her leggings and long t-shirt (not one of his, she refuses to wear a shirt with his stupid face on it) and on the verge of nodding off. The door rattles on its hinges at the force of his slam and she's about to tell him off for it, but stops when she sees the dumbstruck look on his face. He crosses to her in a bit of a daze and she's beginning to get a little bit worried at his inability to find his words. His calloused fingers grab her hand from the armrest of the couch and tug, his obvious intent to get her to stand. Narrowing her eyes, she drops her feet to the floor and lets him lead.

"What is going on with you?"

He doesn't answer, not with words anyway. A swarm of butterflies come to life deep her belly when his arms curve around her waist and his head tucks deep in the curve of her neck in a hug so intimate she doesn't really know what to do. Sure, she's wondered (had naughty dreams and fantasies) if there was something more between them, but up until this moment nothing has crossed over that flirty friendship line that has always been between them. And this is only a hug, but his lips are pressed against her skin and her shirt is bunched between his fingers at the small of her back and fuck it, she's gonna hold on just as tight. His hair is sweaty from the stage lights, but she doesn't care as her fingertips wind into the slightly too long strands at the base of his neck and her other hand clutches at the flannel between his shoulder-blades. Tingles dance up her neck as he releases a heavy breath against her shoulder, his arms tightening around her in response to her hugging him back.

She wants to protest when he lifts his head, but when his arms don't loosen as he pulls back she just holds on and waits to see what this is all about. His smile is so wide she's pretty sure his dimples have created dimples of their own, his eyes so bright and full of excitement. The eyeliner she helped him put on earlier making them look their bluest, even if it is now smudged from his sweat.

"Swan, you are not going to believe it."

"Believe what?"

"That manager I met two weeks ago, the one with that folk band, remember her?"

"Uh, yeah…pixie cut, full of brass and leading those 7 guys around like a pro, I remember. What about her?"

He shifts then and she thinks he is finally letting go, so she shuffles too, but his hands merely find a new home at her hips, leaving her to awkwardly grip his shoulders as he continues his tale.

"She just called to let me know that the opening band on their tour backed out, leaving her high and dry. She asked if I want to take their place!"

It's like a knife to her gut. She's known that this day would come eventually, that he would leave her, but she'd really been hoping for more time. There's a small part of her she'd allowed to hold out hope that maybe he'd be the one to stay.

What the hell had she been thinking?

She loves him (yeah, she loves him, but that doesn't matter anymore) too much to take anything away from this moment so she plasters on her biggest smile and pulls him back in for another hug. It's easier this way, with his eyes off of her she can push the tears back in and give her a lip a moment to stop quivering.

"Congratulations!"

"I knew it wouldn't feel real until I told you, love."

That's more than she can take. Untangling herself from his arms, she gives his biceps a quick squeeze before walking around him to the kitchen.

"I think this calls for a celebratory beer."

Opening the fridge, she sees they only have one left from the six pack they swiped from the club last week and she lets out a sigh of annoyance. It's not that they haven't shared before, but dammit, she really needs to get drunk if she's going to make it through this evening in one piece. Knocking the top off with the corner of the counter, she chugs a good third of the beer before turning back around. When she does, she knows she's done a shitty job of this little act of hers. Killian is still standing where she left him, this time with a look she's seen many times before. Lifting the beer back to her lips, she downs another third in defiance.

"Emma…"

"No, Killian. This night is about you, just let me deal with my shit later."

"Your feelings aren't shit, not to me, not ever."

"For now…"

The second the words are out of her mouth she regrets them, but doesn't know what else to say. Looking across the room, she watches as he rakes his hand through his hair, the silver catching the light from the bulbs he had helped her string across her ceiling. The couch he's standing next to he'd salvaged from a former bandmate's garage sale, the painting on the wall behind it one they'd done together one night with fingerpaints and too much tequila. Her entire life has become interwoven with this man. It's only in this moment of him being ripped away that she realizes just how much she has let him in.

Jumping at the sudden brush of his fingers over hers on the beer, she braces herself for his goodbye, heartfelt and full of promises she's truly not ready to hear. The bobbing of his adam's apple as he finishes off the beer provides a momentary distraction, her fingers itching to run along the cords of his neck and down across his collarbone. Why does he have to be so damn attractive?

"You know that suitcase I use for my merch?"

"Of course I do."

"It's part of a set. I can fit most of my stuff in the small roller bag, but I think the larger one would work for your stuff. I know your boots will take up a lot of room."

It's only when his thumb comes up to brush against the curve of her jaw does she realize her mouth has fallen open in shock.

"Did you really think I would go without you? I'll need a tour manager. Plus, who else knows how hot I need my tea before a gig, or the way to hussle someone into buying both a download card and a CD? And, fuck Emma, the damn songs I sing will fall a little flat if the woman I wrote them for isn't there to hear them."

All of her blood seems to be rushing with force between her ears and she can't think or speak, so she does the next best thing. She kisses him. The button of his lapel is caught beneath her fingernail as she pulls him towards her, sucking his bottom lip between hers as she's longed to do for as long as she can remember. His groan is drowned out by the sound of the bottle in his hand rolling off the counter as he pulls her into his arms to kiss her back. It's a bit out of control at first, both of them tugging and desperate to get closer until his nose is tucked deep in her cheek and her fingertips are digging into the base of his scalp. As they pause to breathe, he begins to slow things down, somehow managing to maneuver her back against the counter with his hips. She happily settles in as his tongue begins a leisurely exploration of her own, one hand cupping her cheek while the other settles along the side of her ribs.

By the time the kiss ends, they each have a hand wrapped around the other's neck, with her other deep in the back pocket of his jeans and his hot against the curve of her spine beneath her shirt. Her head is spinning with dreams becoming reality and feelings obviously reciprocated. With foreheads pressed tight, Killian playfully, affectionately, brushes his nose back and forth over hers until her smile widens to match his own goofy grin.

"So, which songs are about me?"

"All of them, Swan."

/

They barely make enough money for both of them to eat on the tour, but it's the happiest time of their lives. Killian tells her he loves her three weeks in as they are making love in a tent really built for one, the sounds of crickets and the flickering of the fireflies a perfect backdrop for the romantic moment. Emma finally says it back two months later right before he goes onstage, making him so tongue-tied he has to play the first set of chords twice to give himself a moment to breathe.

He writes a song about it that only she gets to hear.

A/N: Marking this as "In Progress" as I have a ton of ideas for more in the universe. Stay tuned for more one-shots to come! Oh, and the rating may go up to M at some point...