He scratches his head in a moment of exasperation, how dumb do you have to be to forget the keys of your room at your best friend's after spending a whole day playing games with him and only noticing at 3am.
Obviously, you have to be the kind of guy who is crazy enough to go knock at the said best friend's door knowing he is probably sleeping and that he will definitely kill you. Indeed you have to be mad to knock (though banging at the door is more appropriate) at the door of the man who takes quality time lifting weight and boxing.
Definitely mad.
But between sleeping on the door step of his room and facing death with David Nolan, Killian has made his choice: it is a late night, or an early morning, depending of the way you see it and his bed is calling for him - adding to that the exams he has in two days - he definitely had chosen his best time to fuck up.
One knock on the door and he hears something hitting a furniture, a swore - is David having company? He wonders. Either he is going to spare him for the sake of the lovely lady keeping him company or he is indeed, going to kill him, the only bonus point being the fact he would rather do it quickly for the sake of the lady's eyes.
Another knock.
(He is mad man with a dying wish.)
The door opens on a woman - definitely not David- blonde hair and green eyes and "What the hell is wrong with you?"
.
.
.
.
(She is a wonder he has to say, wearing David's shirt, long legs and messy hair)
David is a lucky guy.
"And why would I let you in?" Her eyes narrow at him would send fire if they could and for a second he forgets his keys and how he would sleep tonight because this is much better.
"Because I really want to sleep in my bed."
"What tell me you're not a creepy guy trying to get into girls' room?"
He laughs. "I was definitely not expecting to find a girl in David's room for your information."
"I'm his sister. He let me stay for the night." Blondie fires up and she rolls her eyes in a comic way that just widens the smile that flourishes on his lips, trying to hide his discomfort."Your keys you say?"
"My keys. For my room." He scratches his ear again, feeling slightly impressed. "I'm sorry to bother you but I would love to sleep in a bed and not on the floor."
"Right." She nods letting him enter, "I warn you, you do anything creepy, I have a taser and I know how to use it."
Startled, he stops in the doorway – her eyes shine with anger and he's impressed, dazzled even she seems and is feisty - he hasn't 't even known David had a sister. "You're quite awaken for someone who was just sleeping."
"As handsome the creep guy, I need to be ready to kick his ass." She shrugs and takes a jacket he recognizes belonging to David, he has thought for a moment she was actually going to pick up the taser.
Feisty.
He's intrigued.
And slightly aroused he has to say. The word she has used to describe doesn't escape him, a smile flicker on his face
"Handsome?"
The look she gives him makes him smile even more.
"It's 3am, get your keys and leave, or I swear, I will think of letting you go untased."
"Charming."
His attention back on his search, he lifts books, clothes and other belongings. It is curious how, even though the room was small, it seems impossible for him to get his hand on the keys, feeling his sister being pissed with every second he spends here is definitely not helping. The size of the room makes it hard to ignore her respiration and yes - she's definitely praying that her. It's hard to blame her, it is quite logical, he has disturbed her, and seeing the books laying on the desk -those surely don't belong to David- she is currently studying.
At 3am.
Studious and pretty.
Though pretty doesn't quite cover the actual reality – he is surprised he has never seen her before.
The room smells like lavender, his eyes linger on her hair and he wonders if it's her shampoo, he's taken by the fragrance that hangs around in the room. Quite impressive how the room has gone from manly smell to being so feminine. He tries to keep his attention focused on the task: keys, right the keys, the prospect of having
"I'm sorry-" He stands straight, rubbing his forehead and passing a hand in his hair, annoyed, "I can't find them, I apologize for disturbing your studying session." He gestures to the desk, "I will leave you to it."
"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" She asks him and he get struck by her worry(?) over his person. The attention while pleasant, is quite unexpected and he frowns at her concern, stepping closer with his hands in his pockets.
"I will have to call and wake up some of my friends I guess."
"Let me call David." She reaches for her phone, hidden somewhere behind heavy books (law after what he has gathered).
"No, don't, he's going to kill me."
That is without doubt, he has avoided death once tonight, plus seems to have avoided Mister taser, he would very much like to avoid grumpy David tomorrow.
"Hush, you will wake the neighbour." She shushes him and dials the number, Killian spins on his heels dramatically, groaning. Now he is indeed worried
"You're going to have me kill mini Nolan." He hiss and she rolls her eyes at him, shushing him once again with two fingers.
"David? I- yes I know, I'm sorry to wake you up. "She stops, visibly David is giving her a piece of his mind, "Will you tone it down, I doubt you want to wake up the whole town, even less- Right I got it, moving on, your friend-" She looks up for him frowning her brows, apparently, he doesn't have the monopole of speaking with those, she shares that skill too.
"Killian."
"Right, the English one, Killian, he lost his keys. Do you confirm he's not a creepy guy or a pervert?"
Placing a hand on his heart, Killian fakes to be hurt, mini Nolan turns her back to him and finishes her conversation with David, her voice softening as she wishes him goodnight.
"You're lucky, David said that even though you're the dandy man with your accent, you're also the gentleman or so you like to say. Grab a blanket in the closet, you can have the floor." He is about to say something when she cuts him off, "I'm honestly tired and I wanna sleep, I'm offering you hospitality with my brother deciding whether or not to come by in the morning to kick your ass."
"I was going to ask you what your name was, instead of calling you Mini Nolan."
She pulls the curtains down and throw a blanket to his face, climbing on her bed. "Emma. the name is Emma."
When he wakes up and to his disappointment, she felt without a word. Shaking his head he simply grabs his bag and leaves (he hasn't dared to sleep in a boxer, he has felt like Emma wouldn't have appreciated that, though the idea of riling her up did pass through his mind.)
The room smells like lavender and the order stays with him all day.
Hallucination or not, he smiles through his day, the name of Emma at the back of his mind.
The keys turns out to be in David's bag.
(By kindness of the heart and being responsible of the mess, David decides not to kill him.)
.
.
.
.
He spots her two days after the first time they met, and even though Big Nolan warned him that Mini Nolan is out of reach and not allowed to come by in a perimeter of 25 miles - he has probably noticed the way his eyes had danced when Emma has been mentioned.
Who can blame him.
Girl has threatened him to tase him if he made a move and has got him to stay in his jeans.
She's eating alone, her glasses are on top of her head and not on her nose and she seems deeply passionate by what she's reading. Sometimes she bits into an apple, carelessly hold in her hand.
That doesn't do anything to him. Of course.
Of course, he sits in front of her, dropping his plate in a dramatical way.
"Do you want me to tase you?" She doesn't even bother to lift her eyes up to him, still reading her book.
God he might be in love.
He chuckles and insists, "Do you carry that thing around?"
"Only when you're around I guess."
"So that means you actually keep me in check whether or not I'm around, am I right?"
That has her lift her nose out of her book, eyes rolling in their orbits. "Jones ?" She asks and he nods. He's being kind of an ass but he can't help it, stress gets to him and he needs this, and her company is ideal, and bonus it riles up David which is always nice.
"The one and only."
"And yet so not original," Her mouth - why has he only noticed it now?- brushes over the fruit she is holding before biting down in it, her tongue passing over her teeth and the skin of the apple.
She's teasing him and she's awfully good at it. A chill travels up and down his spine, making him swallow thickly.
"You're here to mess with my brother and I do not find this funny, especially when I'm studying for my exams and I'm really not in a mood."
"I'm sure we could find a way to get you in the mood love." He leans closer and for a second she surprises him by following his lead and for a brief instant their noses are almost touching.
"I know you call me mini Nolan." She breathes and it takes several seconds for his brain to register what she has just said - she definitely smells lavender.
It's when Emma finally pulls away and closes his book that he bats an eyelash. "Sorry but this might be a game to you but you're not the first guy, friend with my brother trying to do the sister, I don't know what it is with guys, is that some kink? A section on a porn website?"
Definitely in love with her.
"Maybe I'm actually interested in you." It's not a lie, yes the prospect of a pissed off David is attractive ( he definitely has a dying wish) but he's quite taken by her witty comments and the fire that lit behind those green eyes definitely intrigues him, he sees something in her he can't exactly put a finger on it yet.
"I don't trust you."
"Maybe you should simply try. Give it a go."" His tongue claps against his cheek
Her eyes are narrowed at him and under all that though exterior there's cracks on the door of her armour. Her eyes judge and his analyse, it's a back and forth game they play, he's not going to give up this easily but she's the one to break the spell.
"Don't waste your time." She tells him before she hastes to leave, her hair flying around her shoulder before he has a chance to answer.
.
.
.
.
The third encounters take two weeks to happen, and it's not lack of desire or motivation to make it happen, it's not an easy task since David seems to be on his back - has she told him anything which would explain his over protectiveness.
He gets the answer one night him and David are at the bar, drinking to help him forget that Mary Margaret, Emma's roomate (the actual responsible for Emma spending the night in David's room). She had told David that she couldn't be with him and the poor guy was a mess, and wasted as he has been that night, David has spilled the truth - tequila does wonder.
Neal.
A name, short and articulated between sharp teeth, his whole body going rigid at the only mention of the name.
Neal.
Just a name and apparently a nightmare for others.
The next time he sees Emma it's at the library, she's hitting the coffee machine and she's visibly pissed, the librarian is pissed and the other students too but she seems far too exasperated.
He believes it to be a community duty to pay for her coffee -stupid machine apparently ate her coins and she's coffee deprived judging by the dark circles decorating her lovely face.
(He's so screwed because he thinks about her with adjectives such as lovely, pretty. Hell he even calls her beautiful in his mind.)
Her answer to his kindness ( it is mercy not just of her but for all of the students cursing her on what is probably ten generations- is to groan and once again roll her eyes.
A miracle they don't stay stuck at the back of her head.
"No."
"Mini Nolan."
"Swan, actually." She pinches her nose and she dials the number of the coffee she desires - he can't suppress the smirk that grows on his face, you can see how it burns her fingers to order her coffee.
"You're not Nolan;" He arches a brow and he's indeed surprised, he has not seen that one coming at him.
"Long story."
She brushes off as she scoops to get her coffee, blowing on it. "Thank you."
"Consider this a payment for your kindness the other day when you let me stay so I didn't have to sleep on the floor."
"You did sleep on the floor."
"But I had a blanket, which I consider a luxury considering the night I was meant to spend."
"You have low standards when it comes to luxury." And yes, she's chuckling over her coffee, Killian can't believe it, it feels like he has just run a marathon. It's worth it though, her whole face lightening up with a single smile is quite the sight.
"I consider spending the night in the same room as a woman like you to be quite the luxe."
There's a pause and he does expect another Mini Nolan move - Swan, whatever it is, he calls her Emma in his mind- rolling her eyes at his attempt at flirtation but she actually laughs.
Her nose crunches and the way her eyes lift and wrinkle as she laughs has him gone.
He knows he will fall.
He's falling.
(He marks that day as the first date, he bought her coffee after all - no matter how she will protest later on that it was not.)
.
.
.
.
The fourth encounter is the one he hasn't planned and probably his lucky day, there's a game in town and Victor has dragged him to it, despite the fact that, as a British, he doesn't get a thing to baseball, even though he can't say it's not an impressive sport and one he admires.
Though he never gets the rule, no matter how many both Victor and David try to explain them to him.
David is taken with Mary Margaret ( apparently these two have talked and things are back to better) and though Killian would have liked ( for now) for David to join, he's happy all is well for him and the pixie girl he briefly saw just one.
Oh, how he is happy that David is gone, when Victor shows up with Ruby (current girlfriend of the moment, one Killian to acknowledge his friend seems quite taken by) and...Emma.
Her surprise matches his, he makes sure to avoid any eye contact with Victor who keeps trying to wink at him - the bastard feels so proud of himself and Ruby is no better, Emma tugging on her arm trying to whisper her two words of what she thinks of this kind of arrangement.
They end up sitting next to each other - of course, and as if this isn't enough, Victor and Ruby seem more interested by each other bucal cavity than the game- Victor might be studying in a medical school, there's a line one shouldn't cross and that's the one.
Emma seems as done as he is and when the break is announced, they both leave to get nachos - they definitely need food to swallow that fuckery their friend set up - he does appreciate Emma and could appreciate her a lot more but he doesn't not enjoy being set up and he doubts that this makes Emma any more incline to any kind of relationship with him.
They are in the line and just when he thinks there won't be a word exchanged tonight, "I hate baseball."
"I don't understand the rules." He adds and it's like a revelation, her eyes widen, he sees the reasoning going on in her mind, like wheels he can see in her head. She hesitates -nachos with cheese are important to her and he makes the promise to buy her some if they get out of here.
They run from the stadium without looking back.
(He buys her nachos in one of the street adjacent to campus).
.
.
.
.
He decides that his favourite look for her is her with cheese on her nose, so he can wipe it with his sleeve, it's cold outside and her cheeks are rosy by the fresh air - and yes she's beautiful.
Her eyes shine, he didn't know Emma Swan could be bought so easily with some nachos and cheese.
"Do you think they will get mad." She asks before licking clean her thumb from the cheese that had gotten on it - he has to resist the urge to do it himself- he has grown quite obsessed with her mouth and this is getting a problem.
"Even if they do, do we care? They are the ones who drag us in a trap."His hands are shoved down deep in his pockets, so he is sure he won't try anything- now is not the time and this is enough.
"We don't."
Again with the laughter, and he swears it's his favourite sound. They walk along the streets of town, his hand burning with the urge to reach for hers and he thanks the box of nachos she is holding because none of her hands are free. Her tongue slips at the corner of her mouth to lick the cheese creaminess that escapes her he wants to reach forward and he does, his thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth.
Her green eyes stare at him while he cleans her mouth and there's electricity going through his whole fingers as he does so, she pulls away – there's no discomfort in stance, but he sees the way her cheeks turn blossom.
"You're not from here."
"Arrived at the beginning of the semester." He says, brushing his hair aside, he doesn't want to think of what has brought him here, he wants to enjoy this with her, he zips upward his jacket to protect himself from the wind, keeping away the ghost threatening to come back illico presto. "You're sure you're not cold."
"I have thick skin." She tilts her head to the side, her tongue tracing her bottom lip seeking any bits of cheese that might have slipped.
"Doesn't mean you should have to endure the cold." He opens his jacket and puts it around her own, their leather clashing, her red and his black and he has to recognize that the look suits her well.
"You're going to be cold."
There's a tease on the top of her tongue and he savours it. There is something about the way she smiles, in the way her eyes lift up, crinkle at the corners that is like a whispered promised, she smells like lavender and he can't fight it, that pull toward her.
"It's cold in England, I'm used to it."
The explanation is weak and not enough for her and she tells him with a frown of her brows and a long stare.
"I came here to study and for the music mostly."
"You play music? Which inst-"
He shakes his head and cuts her off "Now it's hardly fair, I tell you about me and you don't even return the kindness Emma? My, my, bad form."
They stop to her initiative, she looks at him and she brings a finger curled under her nose, laughing at something he doesn't understand, but apparently, it's hilarious.
"You're really English oh my God."
"Does that surprise you?" He chuckles and his hand falls on her shoulder as he coaxes her to start walking again.
He's freezing.
He doesn't care.
"You're not who I thought you would be, aside from the British part, it's quite obvious." She accords him and walks at his side, going to throw away her empty box – dangerous thing to do because now her hands are free for him to reach for. And he pretends that it does nothing to him when she hugs his jacket closer to her body, her hands closing around the lapels.
"My devilish British rogue and yet gentleman manners gave me away I presume?"
"You're an idiot." She rolls her eyes. "Your accent."
He opens his mouth to say something and laughs, "You're quite perceptive Emma."
Again she pauses, one hand on her hip, "Really? That's how you flirt, gotta do better buddy, if a woman noticing your accent is perceptive to you, you have low standards and expectations, but that is something we established a long time ago, since sleeping on the floor is considering luxurious to you."
"You're hilarious."
"Sarcasm is my thing. Back off." Emma gives him a shoulder push and he laughs, wanting to wrap his arm around her waist,.
"You still haven't told me about yourself, and no sarcasm doesn't count as information, I knew that."
She frowns harder (is that even possible) she tramps along his side and invites him to do the same, avoiding deep shallow water lake and when her hand curls around the inside of his arm.
He tries not to freak out.
But it's hard and his heart is doing looping in his chest, way too happy of what's happening.
Breathe Killian.
"I want to be a lawyer, I want to fight the crimes and repair injustice, I want to help and defend those who need it." Her cheeks grow redder as she thinks, he checks her a moment to see if she's cold but it seems to be by the closeness. Her fingers are white and reddened on the tip so he lays a gentle hand on it and tries to warm them up. She stares down at their joined hands before smiling at him. "Stupid no?"
"Heroic I would say, but certainly not stupid."
"It's idealistic." She shrugs as they jump over a water and their lack of synch makes her almost lose her footing and it's only by securing her with an arm safely wrapped around her waist that she keeps up, their chests too close and the embrace to intimate.
"Idiot."
"Heroic." He replies and contrary to what he thinks, she doesn't pull away.
"British idiot."
"That I will not refute."
She leans closer and bumps their noses together as he tries to ignore the way his heart is pumping fast in his chest, the way the snow has started falling upon them and how snowflakes get caught in her hair.
"You don't call me Mini Nolan any more." Her voice is a whisper, a deep low sound coming from her chest that echoes within his own, Killian perfectly aware of her hand on his shoulder gripping the thin material of his shirt that is growing wetter with every second.
"I prefer Emma."
"It's Swan you now? My last name, it's Swan."
He doesn't stop himself from reaching for a wet strand of hair that keeps falling in her eyes, his thumb brushing over her brow, stroking it gently as if she has left cheese on it. (Come on Jones. Focus)
"Jones, nice to meet you."
"You're an idiot."
"You can say thanks for the nachos, by the way."
"Thank." She says before leaning in and kissing him.
She tastes like cheese and promises.
.
.
.
.
He tastes sweet, he tastes salty and he makes her head spins, the feeling grows warmly in her chest and she feels like she is about to combust, his fingers find their way in her hair and she feels him melting against her as she melts against him, a dangerous feeling flourishing in her chest as she nips, sucks, kisses him harder. It's a merry go around, she flies and she goes higher as his arms tightens around her and she is ready – thinks she is for more. His lips keep parting her, demanding and tender at the same time, his hand gently cradles her head and she feels like breaking.
It's too much and not enough, she's gold and she's burning from the inside. When they part- to her initiative, their forehead remain linked together – she doesn't think she can let him go yet, both because her balance is precarious and her head spinning but also because she doesn't want to.
That scares her.
"I will bring you to your room, or are you sleeping at David's," He asks her and his question and the concern she detects in his orbs – why are they so blue? How are they this blue?- she has thought he would push his luck to more but he pulls away.
He pulls away and he holds her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze and she feels breaking deep inside. There's a necklace around her neck and she shivers, feeling the metal burning her skin with a name and a broken promise.
Killian's kisses feel like promises.
A voice inside her head tells her it has felt like that before.
.
.
.
.
She avoids him.
She's not really proud of herself for doing that, it's childish and she used to be better than this. The day after their kiss (and their escape from a boring game, even though she loves baseball but that, she keeps it for herself, she was way too happy to leave the trap made by Victor and Ruby to leave with him.)
She has grown fond of him and that's exactly the problem.
Books are here thank God and she buries her nose in them trying to forget how it has felt, she is running she knows it and the looks Ruby keeps giving her do not help. On top of that Mary Margaret, who she has thought (stupidly) would be on her side keeps arching brows and giving her more looks because - "is that David's friend Killian?" she had said after he had oh so kindly offered to walk her home.
Her cheeks had reddened to the root of her hair, that she is sure of that. And it costs her to say that yes, she has been wanting for him to kiss her again before leaving.
He hadn't though, respecting her right to dispose of whatever they are doing.
And it strikes her, how much concern he has for her – she's not used to that outside David and it's a concern she has a hard time accepting from others.
He doesn't have her number and she is almost tempted to ask David to intervene but then remembers that it's probably better he doesn't know.
She doesn't want to see Killian killed.
Even though she tries to keep calling him Jones – when she doesn't fake not to know his name, she has taken the habit of calling him Killian in her mind and it's ridiculous how much she cares and how stupidly she reacts at the mention of his name.
The other day, David had called him to fix a date for whatever plan they had and when his name had been mentioned by her brother, her heart had ridiculously jumped in her chest.
She could try to steal her brother's phone and look for Killian's number but she chickens out and finds excuses not to.
When on campus, she manages to avoid him, she spies him from afar in a corridor – when he has nothing to do here this isn't his building and she plays elbows to get to the ladies room – it's stupid, it's ridiculous but hell, she is shaking.
The feeling of losing control isn't one she affectionates – a reason why she hates getting drunk even if she does it anyway – she's full of contradiction, she misses Killian and their stupid banters but she is scared of seeing him-
Ugh. She needs to make her mind and stop this.
.
.
.
.
Hello Mini hero , I asked Ruby to give me your number, I doubt your brother would have given it to me, but I needed to try this.
I hope you're okay.
J.
She stares for long minutes at the screen of her phone and is close to pinch herself because he can't be real and oh God what an ass-
And yet she smiles, wide and warmly because yes he's an idiot but he's an idiot who makes her smile even though he deserves to be slap in the head for being so himself with his British manners and she can hear his accent (this is getting problematic).
Mini Hero.
He's an ass.
Hey Jones.
Been working studying for my exams. Hope you're well.
E.
(I will kick your ass for calling me Mini again)
She can't help the smile that grows on her lips when he answers her almost immediately.
As long as it means I will see you again and soon, my ass is yours darling.
He's an idiot.
She ignores the voice in her head that says hers.
(Why does that voice so much like Jones?)
.
.
.
.
It's again 4 am and it's a hubbub on the door that wakes her up, a hand laid on her chest she tries to calm down because this is honestly so scary and she tries to remember where her taser is (she finds it in her bag, exactly where she left it) and she gets up trying to get her pants on quickly.
Another knock on the door and this time weaker, as if the person behind the door is about to give up – and Emma is tempted to simply ignore it but something in her chest is aching and waken up for waken up, she decides to open it nevertheless.
She's surprised because it's Killian and judging by the way his eyes widen when he takes her in, he hadn't expected her to be in her brother's room, he looks like trash and his eyes are too red and too moist for it to be nothing.
"Always with the taser." He tries to laugh, but it sounds dull.
She doesn't answer him because she doesn't have the heart to laugh when he seems to be on the edge of crying and breaking down at her feet – a state she knows all too well. Her hand wraps around his wrist and she pulls him and he falls into his arms – she doesn't know who makes the first move and she has no desire to delve on the question.
Her arms close around his shoulders and they awkwardly walk to David's bed – currently her own and they sit down on it, her holding him. After a while, he comes back to himself and gently pushes away.
"I'm sorry." His hand passes on his forehead and he rubs his scruff, trying to wake himself up or just like it, "I was looking for David."
"Sorry for that," She says with a smile, beaming at him. "I guess you have no luck."
She sees him sight and she regrets her words instantly, his shoulders are shaking and he seems to be bracing himself as best as he can. Her hand on his shoulder, she uses the other one to turn his head toward her. "What's wrong?"
His teeth worries his bottom lip, her palm slides along his cheek to cup it gently, pressing more insistently against it her thumb stroking the little scar decorating his cheek.
"Liam died." He says in a breath and when he sees her confused expression he develops even if it costs him greatly: "My brother."
Emma gasps under the weight of the news, her hands about to fall at her side but she feels like he will break if she did so. There's no much to say about this, she thinks of comforting words (there's none that are enough). She refuses to insult with such cliché phrases because she knows nothing will ease his pain. So instead she stands up and she turns on the light next to her bed and she turns off the big one.
He's like a doll in her hands and she would make a joke about it if he weren't so down, she tugs on his sleeve to get him out of his jacket – which joins the one he left her that day of the game (not her fault, he didn't ask for it and she wasn't exactly eager to give it back) helping him to get in a simple shirt. She turns around to let him do his pants after having thrown at him a pair of gym suits David owns – it's ridiculous to feel so aware of his body during such a difficult moment. She remembers Ruby's words and she has to say that the brunette makes a point: she needs to get laid.
She knows tonight isn't the time even though her body doesn't get the memo she lays down with him and she cradles him against her shoulder, doing just that, holding him as the storm passes. His hands are warm on her waist and his breath fans against her neck, Emma rubs his back until they fall in an almost routine, him caressing her arm up and down, her rubbing his back until they fall asleep.
Dream or not, Emma falls asleep with the feeling of Killian's kiss on her shoulder and neck.
.
.
.
.
When she wakes up he's gone.
Her heart sinks in her stomach, she knows it must have been hard for him to be vulnerable in front of her -especially when she has such a hard time being so in front of him. She doesn't blame him, after all, she was not the one he had been looking for the other night.
Though, she has thought he would stay, she has also hoped they would be able to talk.
She's in the bathroom trying to fix the mess her hair is – there's no way she will get it proper today so she settles for a ponytail. She's about to brush her teeth when someone knocks at the door.
This is getting a habit and she grows tired of it.
It's Killian.
He's caring with him what seems to be the content of a junk food machine, he has tow sodas on top of another and he bought all kind of candies and biscuits.
"Breakfast?" He says articulating with a small bag of marshmallows between his teeth.
Emma blinks before letting him in, "I thought you had left." She tells him as he drops his collect on the bed and turns around looking sheepishly at her, apparently, last night left an uncomfortable feeling between them, like a heavy fog enveloping them both. She tries to shove down her hands in her jeans pockets when she realizes (too late) that she doesn't have any because she's wearing a pair of leggings.
"Thank you for last night."
She tries to give him a smile and she decides to sit down on the bed to get a closer look at what kind of breakfast he has just brought, trying to avoid the awkward tension between them.
They still haven't discussed their kiss.
And he fell asleep in her arms last night.
Together they start eating in silence, she doesn't touch the soda- she doesn't like those bubbles and she settles for the compote, eating some of those dry biscuits, turning their packages she realizes that they are actually from Great Britain. When her eyes lift, it's to meet his, a pained smile on his face.
"They were his favourite." He whispers, and for a moment Emma doesn't know whether or not he's talking to her or he's talking to himself. "To Liam." He feels the need to precise even if it's not necessary.
Her hand crosses the barrier between them and brands the gap and the awkward fog to find his, the gesture surprises him pleasantly, squeezing it back.
"I left England after we fought, he didn't really support my decision to study abroad."
Emma decides it's better to remain silence, letting him continue his tale, honoured that he's sharing this with her.
"I want to do music, but I also want to do travel around the world, Liam wanted me to join the Navy and I refused, the sea is my mistress" He laughs at his own joke, rubbing the back of his neck, "But I want to be free, not to be under the orders of an old man at the end of the career who enjoys rubbing the nose of the young soldiers in the dirt."
"Did you talk to him?" She doesn't even dare to add the "before he died", it's implied in her voice and her words and the way his eyes shine with moist tells her that he got it just right.
"I didn't get the chance."
Now there's a lump in her throat Emma can't swallow, it's not fair. Tears are hidden being her lids and threaten to fall for him, she fights them back – he won't have pity even if it's not what she feels for him, but he won't have them and she cares too much to let that affect him too.
So she squeezes his hand again.
When it's time for both of them to get to their respective classes, the fog is gone and he seems a little bit better, she doesn't hold back when she feels like cupping his face trying to get off the dry tear residues on his cheek. Her palm lingers on the side of his face and he leans in, the heat of his body making her feel dizzy and she should definitely pull away because he's not in a good place.
Yet when Killian pulls her into an embrace she doesn't fight it, his hand massaging her scalp is reassuring, his lips pressed against her forehead feel right. She knows it's for her as much as it is for him, he finds a solace in her arms for now and she is pleased to give him just that.
"Thank you for not tasing me last night."
She chuckles against his shoulder and she lifts her chin to meet his eyes, his hand is still in her hair and her own flat against his chest now. "You're welcome."
"And thank you ..for the rest."
"You're welcome too. I am glad you weren't alone last night."
"Even though you're been avoiding me."
Okay now is not the time. She feels like pulling away abruptly because she doesn't want to do this now, when they are both on the rush and when he's such a mess, and knowing herself Emma could very much mess things up even more with words she meant or didn't mean for real.
"I haven't bee-"
He shushes her lie. "You know better than this Swan, but it's alright, can I hope to see you soon though, if I recall you said you would kick my ass."
"Right."
"And since I told a truth, you have to reveal a secret too." He starts taking her leave, not without leaving a peck on her cheek – the skin he kissed burns. "I will leave you to that but don't forget, I will be back for another secret of yours."
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Today is not a good day.
It has started badly with an old ghost she would have rather avoided.
She has seen Neal two hours ago and in really good company. It stinks, hurts, like dirt on her skin she can't get rid of
And there's Killian.
He's waiting for a secret.
He has kissed her.
Emma doesn't want to think about it, the idea of letting him see more of her scares her. She has always been one to put on walls and she is happy of them so far- no more harm and no more damage.
Though Mary Margaret and her brother would say that it also keeps good things out.
Love.
Emma has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the words every time they mention it in one of their endless lectures about how she should get her life back on trails (since when has it be off ?).
She tries to ignore the while they are having lunch together at the cafeteria, things couldn't be more awkward that Killian is sitting right next to David. He seems better apparently (though Emma would argue that his smile is not full – and since when does she know about them?). It's however definitely embarrassing that her love life seems to be on the menu. Mary Margaret tries to explain to her that indeed she needs to allow herself to live and be happy, her hand lacing with David's on the table.
"How about you leave the lass do whatever she pleases to do?" Killian drops his fork on his plate and takes quality time to sauce it with some bread, "I'm sure Emma knows what she wants to do or not."
"Thanks Prince Charming, I don't need your help." She snaps and she regrets her words because they sound sharper than what she ended.
"I always thought I would be more of the pirate kind, after all I'm a sailor during my free time."
Emma arches a brow and crosses her hands under her chin, "And do tell what Disney character you would be then."
"Well, definitely not a prince charming, princess." He stresses the last word with a loop of his tongue and it's ridiculously hot. Worried slightly for their instance, she casts a look at David who watches the exchange with a composed figure, probably wondering what the hell is going on.
"There's no prince charming."
Her words are final.
"I actually think-" Mary Margaret starts but Emma raises a hand and stops her in her sentence, she doesn't want to hear it.
"That's bullshit, you can talk with David, especially after how you made him miserable. Love brings nothing but pain and harm, there's no such thing in the world, there are assholes who want to fuck the first chick they find. It's all about sex, it's always about sex." And to conclude her speech Emma stands up and takes her plate, leaving for her next class.
She skips class.
.
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.
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She goes back to her room after passing by the closet coffee shop she can – she needs her daily dose of caffeine or she will die (no euphemism added here, it is the simply true) a girl needs her dose of coffee to go on.
Her keys are somewhere in her bag , struggling with all the stuff she carries, Emma tries not to split her coffee on the floor.
The door opens on Killian.
"What the hell?" Her mouth drops wide open, angry. "How the hell did you get here."
She enters her room, dropping her bag on her bed, scanning her room. Her roomates are gone and judging by the keys Killian holds in his hand, she has been betrayed.
"The hell."
Emma blows angrily through her nose, eyeing with with a killer expression, she is mad, tired and pissed, this is yet another trap set up by her friends. She hates it.
Yes the last one has ended with a kiss but they haven't talked much about it and she has no desire to see his face – his smug smile oh God- she hates him.
Liar.
Liar.
Her heart is currently hammering in her chest, his hair is a mess, his cheeks rosy. This idiot wears a stupid shirt and no, her heart is not hammering because of him but from anger.
"Can we at least talk?" He takes the coffee she has let on her desk and hands it to her like an olive branch, she eyes him for a second before accepting it -it's hers after all. "You left quite in a hurry."
"I didn't want to talk." She gets up and goes to her bathroom, making sure to slam the door hard enough that he gets the message.
She doesn't want to talk. She doesn't want him to care about her mood or anything, she wants to be alone.
"Emma." Killian's voice comes through the door, speaking just above a whisper. She can imagine him leaning against it, slurring the words against the door. "Please talk to me."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" She snaps, not able to stop herself. Her heart aches for things she lost and other she could have, her hands twist around the paper of her coffee, getting cold as she tries to fight back the tears.
"I..I don't know." His answer is raw honest, he struggles with words in a touching. Emma can see him from here scratching his ear, "I only know I want, I hope to mean something to you."
Because you mean something to me.
He doesn't say but she guesses, her heart aching in a complete different way. A gulp of coffee doesn't help to clear her foggy mind nor to stop the tiredness that cramp her body. Her hands free, the coffee on the sink, she quickly dries off any sign of tears. Killian seems to still be outside the door, waiting for her final word like a prisoner waiting for his judgement.
It's been weeks since their first (last?) kiss and they need to decide when do they go from here.
Emma's hand closes around the handle of the door and opens it on Killian waiting for her.
Her hands go to the side of his face and she pulls him in, tasting a kiss on his lips, trying, before she makes her call, pressing her whole body against his as she curls, whines and prays him for more. For a moment Emma gets afraid he might pull away, his hand are after all at his side for what seems minutes but is more a question of seconds, but then he wraps his arms around her, his hands playing with the hem of her shirt as he presses her to the closest wall.
Killian's mouth is tender at first on her, kissing and nipping but something sparks between them, or maybe explodes and it grows hotter, deeper, harder. He's bruising her with meaningful kisses now and Emma is not quite sure she can take it.
Yet she kisses back just as passionately, holding onto him tightly, hands sliding along his side to hold onto his belt, she feels too hot all of sudden, her skin too tight for her, her fingers tracing the lines of his stomach, hardening to her touch. It's pleasant to feel the need, the desire and how desperate he is for her.
Her fingers fumble over his belt and she tugs on it, just like her teeth does the same on his lip and the groan that grows low in his chest have her knees to shake. Killian's lips fall in her neck.
"Killian." Is all she manages to say before he coaxes her head back into an angle he can kiss her, his tongue tracing her bottom lip before delving in her mouth, his hips granted into hers. He rocks and he makes her moan, his hand goes higher on her skin, tracing her ribcage before following the line of her bra, a silent plea on his lips as he pecks at hers once more. Emma feels herself meting as his hands drift down and taps the edge of her jeans, his hands clenching over her body. The ripple that crawl her skin, her whole body turns into a growing burning ache, slippery between her thighs.
For all answer, Emma unbuttons his belt, showing down his pants and just when about to do more he yanks her against him and his hands are on her side, sliding on her arse, thumb pushing at the button of her jeans.
He palms her through the rough material, she's incredibly hot for him already and he smiles against her cheek, her lips, his hand going under the band of her panties to find her hot centre.
She kins in his hand, rocking her hips against his.
Emma ends with one leg off of her jeans, kicking it off with a precarious balance maintained only by Killian's arms around her. Killian grazes his thumb against the button of nerves under her underwear shoved aside, to let his hand works wonder inside her. Her hands rank his back not so gently, and he seems to enjoy the burn of her nails digging into his flesh, his hips jerking forwards, his hot length pressed against her stomach.
Emma doesn't think, she feels a flutter deep in her stomach that keeps driving through her whole body, veins burning with blood too hot, too thick, too much. Fingertips, cold against his hot skin caresses his hard stomach, jolting at her touch, fingers going lower to the thatch of dark hair that has her stomach doing looping. It's been too long, she's been holding back for too long. His eyes are dark blue when she looks up for him.
None of them care for her jeans falling in a pool at her feet, her underwear falling behind, Emma kicks it away and he lifts her up again, pinning her against the hard wall,his hand cradling her face, his thumb circling the little dent of her chin in a tenderness that is too much for her to handle.
There's an expression she reads on his face that breaks her, shattered, his whole body trembling the way hers answer his own. Killian's lips crashes into hers, stealing the breath out of her lungs in the needy press of his hot length against her centre. With a hand on the back of his neck, she meets his fierceness and she summons him forward, urging him, begging him in silence. Her desire matches his own and when he drives home, slamming her a little bit more against the wall, unforgiving for her back but she can't find herself caring.
She can't find herself caring for anything but him, the feel of his hands on her, the feel of his skin, even poorly discovered for her eyes, she needs more.
He holds her in his arms and that fact alone is hot. She wishes he hadn't his shirt on and for a moment her hands try to fumble and work the shirt off but he takes her hand and pins it against the wall.
She tries to bit back a moan.
He hips start pumping hard, taking and giving, and Emma can't help but moan every time he withdraws from her, her hands tightening around his shirt over his shoulders, legs squeezing him tightly around his waist. His grip loosens for a moment, his hand laid flat on the wall next to her head and he thrusts harder, forehead pressed against hers, the other hand on her hip, sometimes drifting lower to support her, or sometimes going between them to bring her higher.
A white flash, hot and moist rushes through her and inside her, Killian jerks against her as he falls behind her, his breathing shallow and heavy against her neck.
Her legs threaten to fall from above his hips and it's only because of Killian's embrace, holding her legs up that they don't give up. Emma doesn't understand where he finds the strength to keep her up but she welcomes him, her lips peppering kisses along his jaw and his neck. This tenderness she displays startle them both, but neither say a thing, she has never been one for words and in those ghostly lips that caress his skin, she hopes he gets her answer.
Without a word, Killian pulls her away from the wall, his lips pressed against her cheek, her temple, caring them both onto her bed. They manage to make it work in the cramped bed, her whole laying half on top oh him. His hands gently roam over her back, caressing, soft and warm, calloused fingers circling her hip.
His eyes bore her without him speaking, yet Emma reads questions on his features, she reads worries, she reads other sentiments she doesn't want to delve into but she can't seem to escape them for now, they reach a point of no turning back.
Her hands start to work over the elms of his shirt, urging him to lift his arms – she needs his skin, she needs his warm, she needs to get closer, her whole body humming for his heart and his presence.
"Talk to me." He talks first, his hand grazing the inside of her palm, his thumb stroking the skin between her thumb and her index, the gesture amazes her, the intensity of his gaze on her skin burns her. Emma let out a squeak of alarm, a whispered cry that Killian brushes off with the pulp of his thumb at the corner of her lips.
"Neal." She whispers in a shallow breath, "I was in love with him, he promised me the world." She pauses and his grip around her waist tightens, bringing her further on top on him, her ear resting above his heart, and she hears the beating of his heart, strong, hammering in his chest.
For her.
"It's a rather boring story," A press on her hip tells her it's not and urges her to continue. " He promised me the world." She repeats and let out a puff of tiredness, finding the courage to keep going in his presence, the pumping of the blood to his heart reassuring. "He left me, cheated on me and ran away with another girl. The grass is greener elsewhere isn't it?"
To that, Killian doesn't answer, he rolls on his side, covering her with his body, his trousers are gone, he's flushed pressed against her in the best way possible. He rests on his elbows, fingers unfastening the buttons of her shirt. There's no words exchanged, she has given him a secret and he cherishes it, he feels blessed – Emma can read it in his eyes in the way he holds her, the way his eyes hold her tenderly.
He buries his nose between her breast, his hands drifting up to brush over the swell of her breast, he pushes down her bra, taking her pert rose tipped breast into his mouth, Emma's hips lifting up from the bed to meet his. Her blouse is gone, his shirt has to go too, she frames his face between her palms and gives him a long kiss, undulating her body under his hard one. The first time has been fast, passionate and needy, this one is slow, measured, tender. It's wrecking her and him both, she's no Mini Nolan, she's isn't a sister, he isn't a friend.
She's his.
He's hers.
It's a link weaved between them, much like their hands, laced, held tight above her head, at her side. He wants to make her forget in a way so different from a few moments ago, they have given into passion, satisfied the tension that has been hanging between them since day one. Now they build, they wash each other from pain and harm, make sure the wounds are taken care of. He heals and she holds, he kisses and she breathes.
Her hands travel up and down his chest, bracing herself on his shoulder as he pins her down onto her mattress, he slams home in a rude jerk that makes her his, she curls up against him and makes him hers.
It's slow, it's tender and empowering, he lifts her leg to have it curled around his waist, shallow thrust, lazy and languorous they don't kiss or almost not. Their lips brush over one another, eyes opened as he takes her higher, as she takes control and pushes him on his back.
It's about them. They are alone in this room. She rocks above him, squeezing his body her her tights, tights he lovingly caresses and holds, his hand lost in her hair brings her back to him, for a finale kiss before she shatters above him.
And he holds her, holds her until she falls, until she picks up the pieces of her heart, before Emma lets him roll her on her back, where he falls too with a few thrusts. His breath fans her shoulder and all is well.
.
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.
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She falls asleep in the crook of his arm, nose bumping into his chest where his heart has gone back to a steady rhythm, his lips sometimes grazing the side of her head, sometimes leaving a kiss.
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.
.
"Your brother will kill me." He barks a laugh in the afternoon, their limbs tangled together, his fingers tipping a rhythm on her hip.
Mary Margaret hasn't come back yet. Emma is torn between being pissed and grateful, choosing to settle for the last one. She draws him down against her, her hand cupping the back of his head and giving him a kiss. "I will stop him from killing you."
Killian seems reassured, kissing the tip of her nose. "How is it, that you two don't have the same name?" He asks.
Her brows are knitted together, it's not a part of her past she likes to talk about. He's so sincere though, his curiosity is honest and he truly cares, and it's a first for her, outside from a few members of her family, she believes she can trust him now. "We aren't brother and sister by blood, my parents died really young, I was in foster care and I used to spend time with him and his mother, we grew up together you could say, his mom ended by adopting me."
"That seems like a good family."
"They are great." She smiles, "Ruth died a few years ago. It's just him and me now."
He kisses her temple, "I'm sorry."
"It's hard for David, she was everything to him." Emma cocks her head to the side, her hand absent-mindedly stroking his forearm.
Killian's hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek as he offers her a bright smile, compassionate, "He's lucky to have you."
"And I, him." She adds, burying her head in the crook of his neck – he smells reassuring. Emma is hit with how she has come to associate that smell to something comforting. It's him and it feels safe. It feels right.
It's been a long time since it has felt this way.
She ignores the nasty voice in her head telling her it has felt this way before too. This is different, she's ready to believe, she already does.
"Are you hungry?" He asks, his hand playing with a strand of her hair -she doesn't even want to think of how it looks like, probably a mess and with a lot of knots.
"Nachos?" Her voice raises from under his chin and she smiles against his skin when he answers her with a warm laugh.
"And cheese of course."
Emma adds, biting at his jaw with teasing teeth."Cheese is important. Vital even."
"Naturally." He conceives and starts rolling off the bed, when her hand closes around his wrist and brings him back to her for a kiss that makes her tremble with need but he's more reasonable than she is. He pulls away and kisses her neck and shoulder.
"As tempting as the idea is, I think the lady needs to eat."
"I think Jones needs to eat before being able to do anything else." She arches a brow defying him, her hand sneaking under the covers to hold him in a firm grip, making him release a husky breath on her cheek.
"I had my hands full with you." He bumps their noses together, laughing, "If I want to be able to do it, I need to eat, and so should you."
"Point for you." Emma says and pushes him back on the bed, getting up, her body aching in a pleasing way. "Get dressed, you own me nachos."
She hears his laugh when she goes in the bathroom.
.
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.
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When David finds out, he freaks out. Killian fears for his life, but does not take a step back. His hand finds Emma's, fingers lacing together.
To his surprise, he gets slapped gently in the shoulder, an arched eyebrow saying long about what will happen to him if he hurts her in any way. David's reaction is a true surprise, to both Emma and him, but they gratefully welcome it. They have been expecting the overprotective side of Emma's brother to show up, but it seems to go all well.
(He knows the biggest challenge isn't her brother, he's not the one to convince.)
(She's the one to be convinced).
Ruby has given him the keys and managed to get Mary Margaret out of the room and after Emma, she is nowhere near going to let that one damn, saying that they both owe them another game.
Xxx
It's hard to hold the words back.
He wants to say it to her. He does it when he kisses her, when he makes love to her, when they tumble into a mess of limbs in her bed or his, or when he holds her tightly in the cramped shower of his room, trying to do as silent as possible so Victor doesn't hear them.
When his roomate makes a comment on the water being for two and not three, Emma reddens to the root of her hair, Killian laughing as the door closes behind them.
He takes her to her class, he holds her hand in the corridors and it all feels easy.
They are an easy couple. She holds him at night – they have taken the habit to either sleep in her or his room, the point is, they never spend the night alone anymore – whenever he feels the shadow of Liam's death crawling up on him, making his ache, air hard for him to breath.
She lulls him to sleep, kisses his temple and she says she's sorry.
He wants to tell her he loves her. He wants to keep her forever.
Xxx
The end of the semester is here and they are supposed to go on a spring break – his heart is not at it, he's supposed to go back to England, presents his respect to his brother's grave. The act is complicated, there's a lump in his throat that he can't swallow every time he thinks of it. There's a weight on his shoulder – duty, guilt, sadness and regrets heaving on him whenever his thoughts wander too long on what happens, what should have been done and what they both have missed.
He packs without trying to put too much thoughts into it. He lost his hero, a hero that ended by being disappointed with him. It's a wound that will never heal, the memory of his brother looking at him for what they didn't know yet would be the last time, when he told him he didn't want to follow his steps and enter the navy.
Killian has chosen his passion, his dreams over his brother and that has cost him the love and the bond Liam and him had.
He pills up shirts and pair of trousers, putting one or two books in his suitcases (both of them are recommendations of Emma and he feels like he's taking a little bit of her with him.)
There's a knock on the door, he groans because he wants to do this alone.
The door opens on Emma, holding a suitcase in her hand, her expression tentative and hopeful.
"I forgot my keys at your place." She says, the running joke making her smile as she settles her baggage on the floor, "I also have a ticket, in my pocket, for London, if you want to."
Her voice tries not to quiver, she stands in front of him like he has never seen before, vulnerable and bare, a smile on her lips that doesn't betray her nervousness. She plays with her hands, massing the palms, waiting for his words – ones that don't come for how taken back from her presence, her beauty and her... her love.
"I know it seems abrupt, you have not offered me to go with you but I've seen you for the past weeks worrying about this, and I want to be here with you, to help, I.. I want to be here to hold your hand as you say farewell to your brother." She fumbles and tumbles on her words, he sees her struggling with everything and she has never been more beautiful than now. "I.. I love you and I want to be here for you. I love you." Emma says again, her expression starting to break into a shattered pieces, "Let me-"
The words die on her lips when his mouth comes down on hers, his arms closing her, pressing her against him, "I love you." He breathes between two kisses, "I love you."
Her smile is bright and their noses are brushing along each other when he picks her up, carrying her in his room. It takes him a while to let her down, his shoulders feeling lighter at the support, the love she is giving him presently.
Her hand on his cheek, she starts talking, "I was hoping you would let me stay here, I really lost my keys in your room." He kisses the smile on her lips, not able to stop himself, "I don't really feel like searching them."
He laughs. "Maybe you can stay."
"You better let me. I would hate to tase you."
xxx
Her hand is in his when he says goodbye to a heavy and cold stone.
Her lips press against his cheek when she tells him Liam wouldn't be mad at him for following his dreams.
"I think he would have forgiven me for chasing you" Killian tells her, kissing her knuckles.