Extended summary: When Killian Jones finds himself nearly stranded on his way to deliver flowers due to a raging thunderstorm, he seeks shelter in "The Charming Inn", the only bed and breakfast that the small town of Storybrooke has to offer. Emma Swan helps run the inn with her parents, and is taken by complete surprise when a stranger rushes in with a crate of pink orchids just as she's about to close up for the night. The two find an unlikely friendship and an evident attraction with each other, and Killian decides that sometimes, a freak thunderstorm isn't so bad after all.
A/N; Believe me when I say that I really tried to make this short. I just love writing these two so much & all the flowershop AU's have caused my writing muse to go insane, so this first chapter is quite lengthy. This mini ficlet will have a total of five parts, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!
It was raining.
Not the light and peaceful kind that Killian Jones would normally cherish and adore as it would splash and splatter against the windshield of his old truck, nor the kind that reflected as twinkling crystals on the glass surface. But the fast and heavy kind; the kind that rattled windows and jolted closed doors, that whipped and splashed violently against every surface as it tried to dance alongside with the wind, only to be swept away in an out of control frenzy. And much to Killian's dismay, the kind that could easily flood streets within half an hour.
Killian made a sound of exasperation and grumbled under his breath as he squinted his eyes and managed to maneuver his truck beneath a covered area. He rubbed a hand against his face tiredly, and let out a groan of defeat as the sound of thunder rumbled simultaneously with the pounding rain. He knew that it would be too dangerous to continue his journey to deliver the crates of orchids that filled the backseat of his truck. He sighed, knowing that he still had about a few hours' journey until he'd make it to the flower shop that he was set to go and drop the flowers off to in the next town over.
Killian peered into the backseat of his truck through the rearview mirror, deciding that sleeping in his truck full of orchids while a storm raged on just outside would not be the smartest of his ideas. He sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt before shifting in his seat to look through the windows for any sign of potential shelter.
His eyes finally landed upon a building just across the street, the light through its windows dimly lit. It displayed a sign that was too difficult to read in its entirety through the heavy rain, but Killian managed to make out the word Inn at the end of it, and he decided to settle for it.
He swung his backpack over his shoulder and drew the hood of his jacket over his head, bracing himself for the impact of the wind and rain before he kicked open his door. He stuffed his car keys into his pocket as he grunted against the wind, immediately scrunching up his nose as pellets of rain attacked him mercilessly. He shut his door, and the force managed to rattle the truck as the wind picked up speed, sending gusts of rain his way.
Killian trekked towards the back of his car, cursing to himself as he caught sight of the lonely crate of orchids that had been singled out from being put in the backseat along with the rest of the crates as there hadn't been enough space.
He heaved the crate into his arms, muttering nonentities to himself as he dashed across the street, hoping for nothing more than warmth.
If there was one thing that Emma Swan couldn't stand, it was surprises.
Surprise parties were never her forte, she didn't like having people order something apart from her regular meals when they went out to eat, nor was she particularly fond of last minute plans or sudden changes. Emma Swan was independent, methodical, and organized.
Moving back to her and her parent's hometown of Storybrooke from New York five years ago, however, was a good surprise. It was a sudden decision, one that was mutual between all three of them and was one that they were all happy with. They had decided that the city life just wasn't for them, so they packed up their belongings and found themselves driving back to the fairytale-esque town of Storybrooke.
It was a small town, one that was frequently driven through by outsiders. They didn't have visitors often and when they did, the stranger would be the talk of the town for days on end. Storybrooke was the type of town where everyone knew each other; they were the same people that Emma had grown up with over the course of several years, and they were the people who had dubbed her and her parents as "The Charming's", thus inspiring the name for their inn.
The inn was a small establishment that Emma and her parents had a lot of pride in and they showed it. The townspeople who didn't have a permanent house to stay in resided in one of the many rooms that the Charming's tended to, and they'd house a stranger every once in a while.
Emma looked out of a window as she lounged in one of the window seats boredly. Her elbow rested against the window sill and she rested her cheek against her fisted hand as she stared out onto the vacant streets of the town, wondering when the storm would stop as it had been raging on for the past three hours.
"Emma?" she heard her mother call from the office behind the front counter.
"Yeah?" Emma called back, not finding the will to move from her spot.
"Could you lock up for us?" Mary Margaret asked. "I need to get the mops ready just in case it floods again."
"Mary Margaret," Emma heard her father begin, and she chuckled to herself as she swung her legs out from underneath her before striding over to the front desk where multiple sets of keys were locked and hidden away.
"It's not going to flood," her father continued, sounding exasperated.
"David, we can't take any chances." Mary Margaret chastised. "Remember what happened last time? The whole front entrance was flooded."
"Only the streets are a bit flooded right now," David continued. "I doubt it'll make it inside this time."
Emma made a grab for the designated set of keys as her parents continued to bicker, and she made her way towards the front door when it suddenly flew open. She yelped in surprise, scrambling backwards as a dark and hooded figure darts inside before slamming the door shut behind themselves.
Emma stared after the person in bewilderment, her mouth slightly agape and the keys in her hand suspended in mid-air as she took in their sopping wet form. She took note of the wooden crate of flowers in the person's arms, and she rose an eyebrow in question as curiosity churned around inside her stomach.
"You must be freezing!" Emma exclaimed suddenly, realizing that she had been staring. The person looked up in her direction and she caught sight of the faintest hint of stubble against his cheeks. "Uh, you can just set those on the counter if you'd like," she continued, motioning towards the crate of flowers. He immediately obliges, and she notices the relief as the tension eases from his body and his shoulders relax. "I'm gonna go grab you a towel."
Killian gaped after the girl who couldn't have been much older or younger than himself, only managing to catch a sight of her white sweater and blue jeans. He watched wordlessly, unable to catch sight of her face, as she left the keys on the counter beside the crate of flowers in a frenzy and scurried past him, rushing towards the back office to retrieve her parents who would surely know what to do.
"Mom!" Killian heard the woman call, catching sight of her blonde hair as she disappeared towards the back. "I need reinforcements!"
"Reinforcements for what?" he heard another woman's voice call back. "I thought I just told you to lock up!"
He heard the woman who had greeted him grumble.
"You did," she replied. "And I was going to, but we have a guest!"
Killian grinned in amusement, unzipping and sliding off his soaked jacket with a wince as a puddle of water formed at his feet.
"A guest?" the mother retorted. "Who could possibly – is it Sneezy? I swear, if that nimrod's done something else –"
"No!" the first woman responded in exasperation. "No, it's not Sneezy. I mean we have an actual guest. As in a total stranger who can more than likely hear this conversation." Killian nearly chuckled out loud at that. He heard more shuffling and grumbling around the back. "Jesus Christ," the woman muttered. "Mom, where are the towels?"
Killian looked around what he assumed was the lobby of the inn, immediately taken with how warm and cozy it was. His eyes landed on a coat rack that was already occupied by two other jackets, but he immediately strode over to it to add his to the collection. He turned the coat rack so that his jacket would face the burning fireplace, hoping that the heat would help it dry up quicker.
"Towels?" the mother questioned. "What do you need a towel for?"
"For the love of –" the woman grumbled darkly. "Never mind, I found one!"
"Emma Swan, what –"
"Sorry about that," the woman, Emma, he assumed, interrupted as he watched her emerge from the back room with a folded blue towel in hand. Killian felt his throat dry up as he took her in, properly this time, without his hood in the way or droplets of rain in his eyes.
Her long blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders in wavy tresses and a small smile graced her lips as she shyly avoided his eyes, a light shade of pink dusted across the apples of her cheeks as she continued towards him.
"We weren't expecting anyone else and my mom's kinda just –" she felt herself pause, stare and swallow harshly as she met his eyes, immediately taken aback by how blue they were. At that moment, she felt as if all the breath had been knocked right out of her as she takes him in, all twinkling blue eyes and matted down hair.
A silence fell over the two of them as they take each other in, their breaths held as they wait for one or the other to make the first move. The flames of the fireplace crackled and the shadows of their figures wavered on the wall behind them.
He noticed her then, really noticed her, more elaborately than he had ever anticipated to. He was a florist, he had an eye for detail for crying out loud, but he couldn't help but find himself drowning in the very essence of her being at that moment in time.
He noticed the green of her eyes and how the color flickered by the slightest shade when it was under the light. He noticed the silky strands of golden that framed her face in the simplest manner, yet it made her look like she had just stepped out from a royal ceremony and she was the crowned princess. He noticed her button nose and her dented chin, her slender neck and her creamy skin, her pink lips and the softness of her expression despite the slight furrow between her brows.
He noticed her then, really noticed her, and decided that he wanted to know what her voice tasted like between his lips.
Emma's breath was caught in her throat as she took her time studying him. His expression was that of awe and careful consideration, and she found herself practically immobilized as his eyes flitted across her face.
She reluctantly tore her gaze away from his as she studied the dark stubble that dotted his face, the crinkles around his eyes and the charming dimples that dented his cheeks as he drank her in. She bit back a smile as she caught sight of his hair, tousled and messy as if he had ran his hand through it multiple times. She wondered what the dark tufts of hair would feel like between the spaces of her fingers, and she felt a blush swiftly rise to her cheeks at the thought of the intimacy.
She noticed the depth of his eyes, how blue and stormy they were and how they reminded her of the sea. She noticed the flush of his tanned skin that peeked out from underneath the collar of his shirt, and she noticed the scar that ran in a nearly invisible jagged line atop the apple of his cheek. She wondered what story went along with it; she wondered what he had to offer, where he came from, his experiences and beginnings. She thought about it all, and she wondered if he was thinking the same way, too.
Emma's eyes somehow landed on the coat rack, and she took in how complete and picturesque it looked with the third coat next in conjunction with hers and her father's.
"Do you mind?" he queried hesitantly as his gaze followed hers. Emma swooned at the sound of his voice because of course he had an accent. She memorized and tucked his slight English lilt into the back of her mind and hoped that he didn't notice the deepening of her blush as she willed for her mouth to work.
"No," she managed to reply. "Uh, it's okay."
He visibly relaxed and she wanted to laugh giddily at his concern, but instead she couldn't help but send him a reassuring smile, one which he eagerly mirrored.
Just then, Mary Margaret scurried in, greeting Killian with a startled hello and causing him and Emma to jump in surprise. Emma groaned inwardly at her mother's timing, and she willed for herself to not blush as she found him sneaking glances towards her as her mother rambled on about getting him cleaned up.
As Mary Margaret continued, Emma took the opportunity to sneak her own glances towards the stranger. She unconsciously tilted her head to the side as she took in his profile, tracing his jaw with her eyes and feeling her breath catch in her throat at the smiles he supplied her mother. His eyes crinkled around the corners and his lips would easily slip from genuine grins to gentle smiles, and Emma wanted more than nothing than to pinch herself and see if it was all a dream.
"Emma," her mother said, causing her to snap out of her reverie.
"Huh?" Emma supplied, feeling the heat crawl up her neck as the stranger looked at her in amusement.
"Did you hear a single word I said?" Mary Margaret chastised, placing her hands on her hips in a scolding manner.
Emma fought off a blush as a hurricane of emotions whirled around inside of her.
"Uh, no?"
Mary Margaret snorted and the handsome stranger coughed out a laugh, and Emma couldn't help but smile at the sound.
"Lock up for real this time, would you?" Mary Margaret smiled knowingly, causing Emma to purse her lips as she wracked her mind for a retort. "And mop up the water, please. I'm gonna take our guest to the back to see if your father has any clothes that could fit him. And I have to go tell your father that the mops did come in hand after all."
Emma rolled her eyes as her mother disappeared with the stranger, and she exhaled yet another sigh as she stepped around the puddles of water that the stranger had brought in before grabbing the keys. She locked the front door, feeling satisfied as the door clicked shut, and she swiftly mopped up the floor before finding herself behind the counter.
Emma leaned forward on her elbows, staring at the crate of pink orchids in awe. She studied the glittering droplets of rain that sat heavily on the delicate petals, and the pads of her fingertips brushed alongside the outline of the flowers lightly.
She felt her heart squeeze faintly as she ran her fingers around the smooth edges of the petal, allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of her lips as the flowers' sweet aroma invaded her senses. Emma never considered herself a flower person; she was never really one for sentiments or romantic gestures, but she felt her racing mind slow down as she studied the orchids, finding them to a glimmering sign of hope.
The sound of footsteps caused her to jolt slightly as they grew nearer, and she immediately shifted her weight on her feet as she pretended to busy herself with a pen and the guestbook.
She kept her eyes focused on the pages filled with various signatures and their assigned room numbers, allowing her hair to cover half of her face. Her stomach flipped as the footsteps grew tentative before they stopped short. Emma drew her eyes upwards, coming face to face with the one person who caused her to become instantly speechless.
Killian's uncomfortably damp t-shirt and flannel duo had been swapped with a long-sleeved shirt, and he was extremely grateful for the warmth that it provided. Emma's eyes lingered on his forearms that had been exposed after he had rolled up the sleeves to his shirt, and he felt a foreign feeling flutter through him as he followed her movements thoughtfully.
He blinked at her as she smiled at him; a soft, timid smile that graced her features and her brightened her eyes. He wordlessly mimicked her, finding himself dizzy with happiness and warmth as her grin widened.
"Hi," he greeted dumbly.
Emma's eyes twinkled as she responded, "Hi,"
"Uh, your mum – Mary Margaret?"
Emma nodded, an easy smile on her face as she listened to him.
"Well, Mary Margaret told me to come to you for a key." He continued, fiddling with the hem of his shirt before he looked up at her again. "For a room?"
Emma blinked at him in surprise, "You're staying?"
Killian opened his mouth to respond, unsure of what to say as he took in Emma's flustered expression.
"Jesus, I didn't mean it like that," Emma stuttered out of embarrassment, causing his heart to inflate in size as he tried to hide a grin. "I just, um – we don't normally get guests here, you know? It's such a small town and – you know what? Let me get you that key."
Emma promptly turned on her heel, unable to make eye contact with him as she squeezed her eyes shut at her slip up. She wanted nothing more than to slap her hands over her cheeks to hide her evident blush, but she merely let out a deep breath before flipping open the chest which held the collection of unassigned keys.
Killian bit back a laugh as she turned her back to him,
She stuck her hand inside and allowed her fingers to dance over the cool metal keys before she finally gripped one and pulled it out. She slid the key ring onto her index finger out of habit as she turned back around, making a grab for the nearest pen before flipping to the next page of the sign in sheet. She searched the key for its number engraving before stopping short as it finally came into view.
27, she wrote slowly as she blinked several times, wondering if her vision was suddenly playing tricks on her. Room twenty seven; that was the room directly across from hers. Emma hesitated, hoping he hadn't noticed before she turned the sign in book to face him. She handed him the pen, to which he promptly took with the raise of his eyebrows before he signed his name with a flourish.
Emma held out the key to him, her breath catching in her throat as his fingertips brushed against hers. His touch lingered, warming her from the inside out and igniting a spark of foreign emotions as their eyes met for a stuttering moment. It lasted a heartbeat, if anything, but she felt as if her entire world had been shifted off of its own axis as he invaded her senses.
"Thank you," Killian murmured, causing her to jolt slightly and drop her hand from his. She ignored the desire to wrap her fingers around his own and sent him a timid smile instead.
"No problem," she replied softly. She tilted her head to the side, giving him a gentle smile, something that he could definitely get used to seeing, before she continued. "I should uh, finish cleaning up and put everything away for the night."
"Right," Killian replied, nodding his head and resisting the urge to smack himself in the face for taking up so much of her time. "Right, of course."
His gaze shifted away from Emma's and landed on his crate of orchids, relieved to find them still intact and in their proper arrangement despite the wind from the storm. He stepped forward, reaching out his arms to take them before her voice stopped him.
"Wait," she said, her smile shy and hesitant as she took in his curious expression. "You could leave them here, if you'd like. Or if you, er, don't mind it? They look really nice, the whole arrangement and all."
His stunned expression slowly morphed into one of realization, and he smiled at her bashfully, using his index finger to scratch behind his ear in a nervous gesture. The tips of his ears flushed pink and Emma wanted to melt right then and there as he grinned, eventually managing to nod his head.
"Yeah, sure," he answered in addition with his nod. He stepped backwards from the counter, avoiding her gaze as he felt heat crawl up his skin because she liked his arrangements. His eyes fell on the mop and its bucket, finding it in the very place the puddle he had left once was. He winced, turning back to face her with an apologetic expression etched across his face. "Sorry 'bout the mess, the storm got, uh, a bit crazy."
Emma blinked at him, surprised by his apology before her lips turned upwards into an easy smile.
"No harm done," she replied lightly with a shrug of her shoulders. "I'm glad you're safe." Emma stopped short, realizing the words that had come out of her mouth were intended for her mind, not his ears, and she watched with flushed cheeks as his eyes widened comically in response.
Killian's heart stuttered in his chest and the blood rang in his ears mercilessly, and he itched to send her his biggest grin and hold her to his body, but her flustered and confused expression caused him to simmer down.
"I mean –" she stuttered, desperately wishing that an empty void would swallow her up right then and there.
"I know," Killian suddenly interjected, giving her a reassuring grin, but she didn't miss the way his blue eyes twinkled. Her shoulders sagged in relief that he hadn't teased her for voicing her thoughts, and her stomach fluttered at the two words that slipped out of his mouth.
The smiles lingered on their lips once more, and Emma reluctantly sighed as her sore feet and aching back reminded her of her hard days of work and the sleep that her body was yearning for.
"Goodnight," she all but whispered to him.
She watched as his eyes softened significantly, and he took another step backwards as he nodded once.
"Goodnight," he responded slowly and just as soft, as if he was waiting for her to add onto his sentence.
Emma arched a brow upwards at him, knowing that he knew and had heard her name after her exchange with her mother.
"Swan," she supplied nonetheless. "Emma Swan."
"Emma," he repeated at a leisurely pace, letting the name roll off of his tongue effortlessly, and Emma could've sworn that that was the first time she had ever heard her name. "Goodnight, Emma."
He sent her one last smile before he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, and she stared after him, her mind reeling and dazed before realizing that she had never caught his name.
She furrowed her eyebrows, turning the sign in book so that it would face her before her eyes landed on the most recent entry.
Killian Jones.
Huh, she thought. She'd never been too interested or curious about names, but she thought his suited him quite nicely.
After lugging the mop into the closet within the back office, Emma fumbled around through the dark as she searched the shelves for a watering can. She didn't want Killian's flowers to wilt overnight, and she felt as if she had some responsibility in taking care of them after asking him to leave them out on the front desk for show.
She finally found what she was looking for and let out a quiet noise of victory. She made her way towards the communal sink which was randomly set in the very back corner of the office; they never made much use of it, but they'd always find the sudden occasion to switch the taps on.
Emma weaved her way through the dimness of the room as she stifled a yawn, finally reaching the front desk and the crate of flowers after longer than necessary. She tipped the watering can, watching in a dreamlike fascination as the dark soil effortlessly soaked up the water. Tiny droplets of water sat atop the petals of the flowers like mini crystals, and Emma found herself smiling at the simplicity and beauty that they had to offer.
She left the watering can on the inner corner of her desk, deciding that she'd use it from that moment forward so long that the flowers were still there. The thought dawned on her; Killian could pick up and leave at any given moment. It didn't seem like his visit was planned, and Emma's stomach churned nervously at the thought.
Emma organized the desk one last time before switching off the computer and powering off the radio which had been playing the background music for the past few hours. She shut the lights to the front entrance before letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. She padded her way through the narrow hallway lined with rooms, trying to keep her steps light and quiet as she didn't want to disturb the guests.
She stood in front of her room fumbling slightly with her keys as the sound of running water resonates from the room directly across from hers. Killian. Emma held her breath, unlocking her door as quietly as possible before slipping inside and shutting the door behind her. She let out a tired sigh, sidling further inside as she makes quick work of going through her nightly routine.
As Emma meandered back over towards her front door to shut off the entrance's lights, the gentle sound of a low humming caught her attention. She paused, knowing exactly who it was, and stopping short before straining her ears to listen to the comforting melody.
Emma caught onto the melody, following it as she started humming the words herself; it was a song that she knew all too well. She furrowed her eyebrows before she recalled that it had also been the very song that had been playing in the background just before Killian had wished her a goodnight.
I know that we're both afraid, we've both made the same mistakes. An open heart is an open wound to you. And in the wind of a heavy choice, love has a quiet voice. Still your mind, now I'm yours to choose.
She didn't know what it meant, this coincidence that they were humming along to the same tune, and whether it was a coincidence or not; and she desperately wanted to. But Emma decided that it would be just the beginning for the two of them – the beginning of something new, of something restless and wild and utterly, completely wonderful.