Say hello to my first ever fanfiction! I plan on updating with a new chapter at least once every week, and I'd be honored if you wanted to follow us (me, Emma and Killian) on the journey ahead.
Rated M for language, adult themes and upcoming steamy stuff. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, the characters presented in this story.
I didn't recognize the mattress my back was resting upon, nor was the pillow underneath of my head familiar to me since before. I was lying comfortably, no doubt about that, but this wasn't my own bed. And I wasn't in my own bedroom.
The last thing I remembered from the previous night was leaving the nightclub alone, a few hours before closing time. Ruby and Mary Margaret chose to stay a bit longer, but I was heading home.
I remembered having two glasses of white wine, a beer - perhaps two, a few shots of Tequila - I blame everything on Tequila, one way too sweet and artificially fruity drink… I also remembered how us girls were elbowing our way through the dance floor, crowded with hot and sweaty bodies moving like one to the beat.
I opened my eyes, painfully slow, to allow them to adjust to the bright light of the morning that was finding its way through the uncovered window to my left. It took a good few seconds before I was able to make any sense out of the situation.
There was a man, with dark tousled hair and a short stubble, sleeping peacefully to my right, and the missing pieces from last night's puzzle fell into place.
Shit. I had done it again...
My plan was never to go home, but I had used that very sentence as an excuse to ditch my friends. If I had told them I left our girls night out just to have fun between the sheets with some random, nameless guy I had known for no longer than an hour, they would've wrestled me down and tied my wrists together if needed to keep me in place.
I let out a long, drawn-out sigh as I prepared my body for swift and quiet movement. I did under no circumstances want to wake the man up. In fact, the now almost sober version of myself never wanted to be there, in his bed, in the first place.
My behavior was destructive, I was well aware of that. My therapist had, on several occasions, explained to me that this, the way too frequent, random one night stands, was all the love I allowed myself. I was afraid of love and commitment, but I was at the same time also afraid of being alone. Not a great combination.
I knew my therapist was correct in his assumptions. I also knew why I had turned out to behave like this. I did not want to blame everything on my childhood, but there was no other reasonable explanation behind my way of acting.
Yesterday's clothing was scattered across the parquet floor. I slid the little black dress over my blond curls and helped the fabric over my hips. The dress reached just above my knees, exposing most of my now naked legs. My leather jacket was mindlessly thrown on a loveseat by the opposite wall of the bed. At least my keys were still in its pocket.
I found my stockings on top of a pair of men's jeans, but did not waste any time putting them on. All my instincts told me I had to leave as soon as humanly possible.
Now, where's my heels? I thought to myself as I found them, well hidden in a dusty corner. I assumed the home's owner, the man which I had been too drunk - or too ignorant - to remember the name of, disliked cleaning just as much as I did.
I threw the man with the dark hair and short stubble a last glance. Happy to not have accidentally woke him up, I carefully unlocked the front door and snuck out of the apartment.
A thirty minute walk of shame later and I was home. It smelled of blooming orchid as I stepped inside my tiny hallway; the orchid was the only plant I had managed to keep alive for longer than two weeks. It reminded me of my housewarming party a year earlier. Actually, it hadn't been much of a party at all - just myself, Ruby and Mary Margaret sharing a bottle of wine, or three, while watching Sopranos on the television. Ruby and Mary Margaret also happened to be my only real friends. If I wasn't good at making them, keeping them was even harder.
I barely managed to park myself in my small, indigo IKEA couch before the landline rang. Odd, was the first thought that crossed my mind. The only people ever calling me on the landline was telemarketers or charity organizations begging for my hard-earned money, but on a Sunday morning?
I gave the telephone a long, suspicious stare before deciding to ignore it. If someone wanted to share something of importance with me, they'd try reaching me on my cell.
With my head more or less comfortably resting on one of the armrests, and my feet on the other, I fell asleep.
"Emma, you home?!" Someone was banging hard and eagerly on the door.
If the banging hadn't been accompanied by a high pitched, loud voice, I would've assumed it was my painfully pulsating head beeing me for an aspirin. I knew that voice, though.
"Just a sec!" My mouth was as dry as dust and my dress was oozing of both men's and women's perfume, with a tiny hint of liquor. I quickly stepped out of it and surrounded my half-naked body with a white, all-cotton bathrobe. I gathered my long, blond hair in a bun on the top of my head before opening the door.
"Hell Emma, I've been trying to reach you all day." Mary Margaret's brow was furrowed - she wasn't happy with me.
"Sorry," I said guiltily in an attempt to calm her down.
"I've been worried like mad! You promised you'd text me when you got home last night," she continued her rant.
"Yeah, I know, my bad. But hey, I'm alive and all is well," I smiled at her.
"Learn to answer your phone, please." She returned my smile, although with a sigh.
"I must've forgotten to turn on the sound. I swear I haven't heard it ring," I explained.
"Sure, whatever." She'd never liked excuses. "You coming for brunch or what?"
I had completely forgotten about our scheduled brunch, which made me feel like a douche. I hated myself for previous night's irresponsible behavior - the reason behind why I had been sleeping until noon in the first place. What made me feel even worse was, I'd been a no-show at the weekly Sunday brunch one too many times already. I couldn't, and wouldn't, let my friends down again.
"Give me ten," I responded as I let Mary Margaret inside and served her a glass of orange juice while I made myself ready.
Casually dressed in blue skinny jeans, a white tee and a black leather jacket, I scanned my apartment for my purse, which was nowhere to be found. A series of curse words escaped my mouth as I'd kept Mary Margaret waiting for more than ten minutes already, and not finding my purse meant not finding my wallet, which in return meant no brunch for me. Unless I wanted to be one of those people who happily let others pay for them. I had never been one of those people, and neither did I intend to become one of them.
"Mary Margaret, I'm sorry. I can't seem to find my purse," I said, shrugging.
She just rolled her eyes at me, as if she was thinking 'typically you, Emma,' before she opened her mouth, lips covered in a crimson lipstick. "You spent the night at someone else's, didn't you?"
Damn. She knew me all too well, and I didn't want to lie to her. Not again.
"Yes, I did," I sighed. And forgot my purse along with my wallet and my phone as I was in a hurry to leave before he woke up, to avoid awkward small-talk and goobye's, I added to my sentence inside of my head.
"Pull yourself together. Seriously."
She sounded like some kind of mother. Not that I knew what mothers sounded like, I had never had one myself, but I assumed they sounded exactly like Mary Margaret did in that moment.
"Well, I'm leaving. Ruby's probably already at the café, can't have her wait forever. Pay us a visit if you're able to."
I watched as she left through the door, obviously disappointed in me. I believed it was nothing compared to the disappointment I felt toward myself.
The simple solution to my problem would've been to call my cell, hope there'd be any battery left in it, and pray that the guy would answer. Yes, that sounded like a plan indeed, but first I would have to gather the mental strength required to swallow my pride. I'd be embarrassed, that I was certain of, but it felt a lot easier than to cancel all my cards and deactivate my phone.
Just as I was about to pick up the handset and dial the number of my cell, the noise of the landline ringing made me jump high. The caller ID displayed a familiar sequence of numbers. I let a few signals pass before I decided not to ignore it, as I had done earlier that day.
"Is this Emma Swan?" The man's accent told me he wasn't originally from the states, but rather from Europe.
"Yes, this is her?" I made it sound like I had no clue what the call was about, when I in fact knew exactly who was on the other side of the line, and also why.
"This is Killian Jones. We met last night." Definitely Europe; Ireland to be precise.
"Oh, right. Hi, Killian." So that's his name. I sounded just as nervous as I felt.
"I've been trying to reach you all day. Started to believe the contact called 'Home' in your phone wasn't the correct number after all. So, how do you want to do this?"
How do you want to do this? He made it sound like there was some business deal to seal. I felt so indescribably cheap, but had no one else but myself to blame those feelings on.
"Emma, you still there?"
"Yeah, sorry. Give me an address and I'll come pick my stuff up." I'd been too busy escaping to pay any closer notice to my surroundings that morning. I knew in what area of town he lived, but I wasn't completely sure which building, nor floor level.
He let out an amused chuckle before giving me the address. I thanked him but hung up without any goodbye's. Embarrassment got the better of me.
To my surprise, the address Killian had given me didn't lead to an apartment building like I had assumed, but rather to a café. Not just any café either, but the very café where I was supposed to meet my friends for brunch.
"Well, this is just perfect," I muttered to myself before Killian caught my attention, confidently walking toward me.
He was wearing a beige cable knit sweater along with a pair of black jeans that hugged his hips perfectly; his stubble still intact, but his hair no longer as unruly as it had been that morning. He was one handsome man, no doubt about that. Even my bad judgment had good taste. My cheeks blushed when his pale blue eyes met mine.
"Care to join me for a coffee?"
"Thanks, but I gotta be somewhere." An overused excuse if any, but in all honesty, I just wanted to receive my stuff and head home. And die from embarrassment.
He handed me my brown leather purse, our hands touching for a brief second. He felt warm as a contrast to the chilly autumn breeze surrounding us.
"Alright, then. I put your stockings in there, too." He gave me a genuine smile, showing off his white teeth.
I was just about to leave, when I could hear Ruby's shouting.
"Emma, you made it!" She was waving exaggeratedly, signaling me to join them.
Even more perfect.
Killian raised one eyebrow and smirked. "Seems like here is where you gotta be, after all." He gesticulated with his arms as he pronounced the word "here."
"I guess," I responded as I sent Ruby and Mary Margaret the widest of fake smiles, not moving one inch from where I was stood on the pavement.
My hesitance left the girls with a puzzled expression on their faces. Ruby rose from her cushioned rattan chair and walked toward me. She realized I was accompanied by someone a second too late.
Being her usual overly confident self, she offered him her hand. "Ruby. And you must be… ?"
"Killian," he said as he shook her hand firmly and politely.
She gave him a curious look. "And you two know each other -?"
"We don't," I interrupted her, before Killian had any chance to respond. "Killian here is interested in buying my car."
"I didn't know you were selling your car. You should've told me and I would've bought it, my own broke down the other day," Ruby said.
My yellow Beetle nowhere around to be seen, and with the previously missing purse in my hands, she knew I was lying. However, she seemed to pick up on my feelings of discomfort and played along.
"Anyway, why don't you join us, Killian?" So much for playing along. I glared at her.
"I'd be honored to," he winked at me. He fucking winked at me. Who exactly did he think he was?
Ruby and I joined Mary Margaret by the small glass table. Killian borrowed a chair from the table next to ours and squeezed it in right next to where I was seated. I recognized his scent from the way my black dress had smelled that morning.
I let my eyes rest upon Killian a little longer than intended as he introduced himself to Mary Margaret. Something he said made her laugh, but I didn't pick up on the conversation. I was busy dealing with my own thoughts.
The situation was nothing but awkward and surreal. He should've stayed nameless; the memory of his face nothing but a reminder of my poor judgment, but instead he was having Sunday brunch with me and my closest friends. All I had wanted was to get my purse back.
I left the table, without as much as one word, to go order something to chew on. I wasn't exactly hungry, but knew I'd get rid of my hangover quicker with the help of some food, preferably something salty.
Before I knew it, Killian appeared behind me in the line.
"What do you want, Killian?" I sighed, without turning to face him.
"I wanted you to join me for coffee." He sounded cheerful.
"Well, seems like your wish came true. Happy?"
"Am indeed," he chuckled.
"You do this a lot?" I hissed.
"Do what?"
"Infiltrate other people's brunches?"
"There's a first for everything, miss Swan. Are you always this jolly?"
"Listen, Jones." I turned to face him, his eyes hypnotically blue. "Wipe that silly grin off of your face. Your charms won't work on me. Yesterday, perhaps, but not today. You, us… nothing but a onetime thing. All I did was using your body. Do I make myself clear?" My words came out a bit more harsh than intended.
He bit down on his lower lip as he tried to find the suitable words to respond with.
"Emma, I'm sorry if my presence makes you feel uncomfortable. I'm not sure what you believe happened last night, but no one used my body." He was looking confused, but it was nothing compared to how I felt.
"So you're saying…"
"I'm saying nothing happened. You were drunk and we shared a cab. I invited you in to make sure no one would take advantage of you, considering the state you were in. You fell asleep on my couch, I carried you to the bed. Nothing more, nothing less."
"But my clothes were scattered all across the floor… ?" It didn't make any sense. Sure, I had been drunk, but drunk enough to fall asleep on someone's couch, just like that?
"You must've woken up during the night and removed them yourself, 'cause I sure as hell didn't. You really think I would lay a finger more than necessary on someone unable to even stand on their own two feet?" He both looked and sounded offended by my indirect accusations.
A part of me wanted to apologize for my assumptions, but I was being too proud and too stubborn. I didn't know what to say, or think for that matter. A quiet "thanks" escaped my lips as I watched Killian's back as he left the café without as much as looking at me.
"Excuse me, miss. Are you going to order?" The barista behind the counter had grown impatient.
"Yeah, right, sorry. I'll take the largest coffee you've got, black. Actually, make it two."
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Apologizes if my language ain't perfect, English is my third language.