Corny titles are fun okay (you'll see).

This is just a little tale based on a prompt from tumblr which was given in celebration of my 10 year anniversary on this website right here. Can't believe I've been here for a decade and hope I have another decade in me to write. Thank you all so much for all your support over the years!

I actually have a little idea of how to extend this too…if you might be so inclined.

…

Here Comes the Sun

…

She should have known that when the first word out of her mouth this morning was, "Fuck," that the rest of the day was always going to head straight on downhill. To start with, it's raining. And, for some reason, she had decided grocery shopping after work was a great way to spend the evening of a day that had been god awful from the second she had awoken with a splitting headache, approximately 20 minutes later than her alarm was mean to go off. The gas and electricity were out in her apartment, leaving her without a shower, without coffee and without a lot of tolerance for the whole day.

Grocery shopping for comfort food had turned into an expensive affair and left her a little short when she'd gone to put petrol in her car. But she's home now and it's Friday and she can see the light at the end of the long and dark tunnel, if only she could get herself untangled from the mess of groceries and keys and her purse, out of the car and through the heavy rain to the comfort of her apartment.

Grunting, she pushes at the car door with her boot, kicking it and bracing for the rush of cool air and rain hitting her face. What she gets, however, is a distinct, "Fuck," before a man on a bike rides straight into her open door, thudding heavily and falling to the ground in the puddle she seems to have parked herself in.

Her eyes widen and she pushes her groceries off her lap and onto the passenger seat, "Shit! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

The guy looks up at her with a dismissive wave, something she recognises very clearly as being done with the world, "It's fine, lass."

It seems that he's English, by the sounds of him.

In the interest of kindness (and nothing to do with the fact that she seems to have come across a very good looking man), she's already forgotten about the fact that it's raining and is out of the car, kneeling next to him, reaching out to help him up, "Are you injured?"

He pats down his chest, "Ego's a little bruised, but no lasting damage."

She frowns at him though. He seems to have a graze down his arm which, she has only just realised, is uncovered. The rain is pelting down in sheets now and she can't fathom why someone would be wearing a t-shirt in this weather. "What's that then?"

He sits up, turning his arm to get a better look, before shrugging, "Not a thing. I had best be on my way."

But she's not letting it go that easily, "Come on, my apartment's just here. Let me patch that up. It's the least I can do."

He narrows his eyes at her, as though actually taking her in for the first time, "Is this how you lure all your prey in? Injure them, the offer to help them?"

She rolls her eyes. Well if he's going to be like that… "Look, I was just…"

But he cuts her off, seeing that he's upset her. And he can't tell what it is just yet, but he gets the feeling that this is someone who he truly wouldn't want to upset, "Okay. What's five minutes?"

As they both clamour to their feet, she holds out her hand in greeting, "Emma Swan."

He takes it as he pulls his bike up next to him, "Killian Jones."

It's a weird feeling that washes over her upon his introduction, but it's almost as though she doesn't want to let his hand go, just wants to hold onto it a little longer. So, to break the odd tension she feels within herself, she leans over to pick up her groceries from the car seat and begins the trek towards her apartment.

He leaves his bike in the foyer, following her up the stairs, the both of them trailing a steady stream of rain droplets on the ground behind them. She can feel the water running down her face and can't imagine how scary she must look right now. No wonder he had been hesitant about coming up to her apartment in the first place.

"So you know it's cold out there, right?" she mentions as she unlocks her door, entering before him and trying to tidy as she walks through the corridor towards her kitchen.

He shrugs, "Aye," and Emma's a little concerned about his mental stability if he can acknowledge that but not seem to see the problem with the fact that he's not wearing a jacket of any description.

"I just mean, you might not have hurt yourself if you had been wearing a few more layers?" she finishes on a question, unsure if she's treading on toes. Maybe he only recently moved to America, maybe England is a whole lot colder than here, maybe she should just mind her own business. But she's curious by nature and her job as a bail bondsperson comprises of a whole lot of asking questions, which is a tough habit to break.

He smirks at her and then sighs in resignation, "A dog ate it."

Of all the things that she had been expecting, that had not been one of them.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she settles for, "What?"

He nods, almost on the verge of laughing at her reaction, "It's been a long day."

She thinks about the way he'd waved off her apologies on the street and it makes a little more sense to her than it did before. It seems she's not the only one who has just had to accept their lot in life today, "Yeah, I know about those."

She indicates that he should take a seat at her breakfast bar while she gets her first aid kit and it hits her for the first time that she's just invited a complete stranger into her home. To distract herself from the direction that thought is going in, she asks him to continue, "You can't leave me hanging with that one. A dog ate your jacket? I'm definitely going to need some kind of explanation."

Killian nods, hissing as Emma dries his arm with a towel and begins to clean his graze, "Right you are, lass." He thinks for a moment, trying to decide where and when to start this woeful tale as Emma dabs lightly at his arm. "My roommate works with animals. He usually takes the dogs for a walk in the morning, but today he was meeting his girlfriend for breakfast and left the dogs in our front courtyard near the driveway." Emma nods along with the story – so far so good. Killian watches her carefully gaging her reaction and hoping he doesn't sound insane, "The rest was basically a combination of me forgetting my wallet, being too lazy to take the things I was carrying, which included the jacket and several important documents, back inside while I retrieved the bloody thing and then realising what an awful mistake that was, especially since the dogs had just had breakfast and wanted to keep going with the whole eating thing."

Emma's nearly done dressing the graze. She shrugs lightly, tilting her head, "So why not grab another jacket?"

At that, Killian raises his free hand to scratch behind his ear in embarrassment, "Because when I grabbed my wallet, I dropped my keys on the counter. And left them there."

"Ah," Emma says, with a grin, "Hence the bike?"

He nods, "Yeah, not too experienced on the old bike. I tend to run into car doors."

She giggles at the memory, "Yeah, I had a similar kind of day. Sorry about flinging the door right at you."

He raises his eyebrows at her, "Oh, so a dog ate your coat too?"

She bites her lip, pressing down the adhesive dressing and hoping it doesn't pull at the hairs on his arms too much when he has to peel it off, "Didn't quite make it to that level, but it's after six and I still haven't had my first coffee of the day. If that gives you some kind of idea."

He smiles sympathetically, admiring her handiwork on his grazed arm, "And yet you still found it in your heart to help a fallen stranger."

"Yeah, well…" she turns away from him, pretending to be packing away her first aid kit because now that she's done dressing his wound, she's had the chance to take a proper look at him and he is hot. And he's talking to her with that stupid accent about her heart and… Ugh. This is not good. She is not blushing.

He seems to sense that their time of crossing paths is coming to an end, clearing his throat, "Well, ah, thanks are in order, I believe."

She turns back around and throws him a smile, "You're welcome."

But he's not having that, "My arm's wellbeing is worth more to me than that, lass." He takes a cautious step forward, seeming to realise that her shyness may be due to some pretty heavy duty walls being flung up, "Let me take you to get a coffee."

She bites her lip again and he thinks that she's going to turn him away but, instead, she nods quietly, "Though, technically I will be taking you because I am not interested in riding tandem in any way on that bike."

He calls it a small victory in his head and nods, "Very well."

She wants to point out that they're still both drenched, but he's still a stranger and the thought of leaving him alone in her apartment while she gets changed makes her a little uneasy. So she decides it'll make a great story to tell her friends and gestures in the direction of the door, "After you."

...

It's after coffee that turned into dinner and a kiss on her cheek that'll be burning for days that she decides that maybe today wasn't so bad after all. She closes the door to her apartment quietly and leans against it with a smile. "Fuck," she breathes to the empty apartment. This could be something incredible.

…

Thoughts?