title: in this twilight
summary: there's a saying about not mixing business and pleasure, and then there's a saying about lost souls finding one another; Emma Swan doesn't live her life by the words of others, but sometimes their words ring true.
notes: singallyouwant on tumblr asked for gremma + escort service, and THIS happened; more notes at the end of the fic; suggested listening to "cosmic love" by f+tm because HOLY HELL GREMMA
She's already ordered her drink by the time he arrives. He is only ten minutes late, but this isn't a date. This is a job, her job, and Emma isn't going to let him get away with paying her less than the agreed upon amount for the agreed upon time (plus the late fee she's planning to exact; from the looks of him – expensive suit designed to look cheaper than it is, but that quality can't be disguised, nor can how well it cuts his frame, contouring to his body in a way no off the rack suit can – and what she knows from her research, he can afford it.)
She clicks shut the compact mirror she'd been using to watch him, slips it into her purse, and in a careful, practiced motion, turns to greet him.
His eyes are blue, but dark enough that as he stares down at her, it isn't immediately obvious. What is obvious is that he wasn't expecting her (considering his occupation, it's a little weird). His mouth is open in an 'o' of surprise until Emma smiles, and says, "Yeah, I actually do look like my picture. Who'dve thought, huh?"
He shakes his head and puffs out a small laugh. Dragging his hand across his stubbled jaw, he says, "Sorry. I don't usually start out meetings by gaping like a caught fish."
"But you do start them by arriving ten minutes late?"
His face flushes pink. Emma is enjoying teasing him, likes the way his voice lilts when he says, "Not often, no. Usually, I'm much more endearing."
"Endearing?" She chuckles. "Well, don't get ahead of yourself, buddy."
The "buddy" is a little harsher than she intends, but he is still smiling at her and now he's also biting his bottom lip in a way that can be best described as…"endearing," and that's a path Emma has no interest in heading down. Two minutes in, and she's needing to remind herself that this is a business transaction, almost half a year's worth of meals, electricity, and comics for her and Henry.
"Graham Humbert, at your service then," he says, bending in a slight bow.
Emma narrows her eyes at him as he takes a seat at the empty bar beside her – the bartender nowhere to be seen.
Humbert turns to her, eyes glancing to the coke bubbling in the ice filled glass, and says, "I see you've already gotten a drink. Another strike against me – late and the lady had to order her own drink."
"The lady is perfectly capable of ordering her own drink with or without you here," Emma snaps.
Humbert looks taken aback.
Good, she thinks because she has chased him off like she has all the men before him, business as usual.
"The Gala's at 9PM, so we have an hour to wait around until the pap's arrive and snap the pictures you need for our exit. With your lateness, I'll have to charge you extra for the inconvenience. Also, my drink."
As she spoke, Humbert nodded along the whole time, watching her, and so when Emma stops to take a breath, she has no chance to prepare when he steals it with a smile warm enough to melt the Arctic.
"Direct and assertive – I knew you'd be a good choice, Ms. Swan. Who could meet you and doubt that you'd captured my heart? For someone who's been accused of not having one, well, I'm starting to doubt the rumours."
Emma freezes. Caught between running right out the door of the cleared out bar of this very expensive hotel and punching her employer right in his sincere, earnest face, Emma chooses option 3.
She grabs her coke, gulps half of it down and replies, "With charm like that, I'm surprised that anyone would even suggest it."
Alarm bells ring in her head – "You're flirting, Emma. Flirting – but his knee brushes hers, and he looks away in a motion that is too hurried to be planned. Staring down at the backlit glass counter, he says with a shrug, "Oh, well, you know. I'm a detective consultant for the most gruesome and difficult to solve crimes. They call me when there's no hope left, and I get the job done. I have an, as they say, 'uncanny knack for entering the minds of the most twisted criminals this world has seen' – it leaves people wondering what a man who can do that and still come out smiling is capable of."
Emma has seen enough psychological thrillers and horror movies to know that this is the part where he'll laugh off the claims, smile, and reassure her so that later, it'll be all the more enjoyable for him when he's offing her.
But Graham Humbert does not of that.
And Emma Swan is no movie victim.
She's just…Emma Swan, orphan, former thief, convicted criminal, part-time bail bondsman, part-time escort, single mother of the wonderful Henry Swan, and she has seen enough in this life to recognize hurt, loneliness, and the deep sadness that a bright smile or witty remark can never truly hide.
"You have a heart," she says, drawing his attention back to her. The blue of his eyes is clearer now – "windows to the soul," Mary Margaret's voice echoes, and if that's true, his soul is drowning in a sea as wide and deep as any Emma has ever seen.
"I can prove it."
Tentative – because she just met him, because he's her employer, because she's a hired date on the payroll of a famous detective and it's supposed to be personal, Emma Swan doesn't do personal with business associates or otherwise –
Tentative, because despite everything that she is, she just can't and nor does she even want to pull away (a feeling that is new and alarming and all those Beauty and the Beast lyrics that she can't remember at the moment) when she reaches her hand to his chest, slips it inside his expensive suit jacket to press right against his heart.
His eyes are wide and searching, but they never leave hers. She smiles, small and nervous, a smile that isn't Emma Swan, but the Emma who gave birth to Henry in chains, heard his cry and held his tiny, damp body in her arms, vowing to do everything possible to love him and give him the happiness he deserved.
"See? It's beating. It's real," she whispers.
He shakes his head and glances away, but Emma was and is a runner, and she knows that all you really want is someone to care enough to stop you. His heart beats rapid as she grabs his hand, and brings it to rest beneath hers.
"Feel that? That is your heart," she says, not whispering this time, her voice strengthened by the warmth of their clasped hands.
His expression is still, and then all at once, a smile blooms, the darkness in his eyes no longer so insurmountable, and he reaches out with his other hand to touch hers.
"It's strange…" he says – and for a moment, Emma has the wild thought that their hearts are beating together, two rhythms in a harmony.
"…the things you find when you're not looking for them."
End notes: so much of the dialogue is ripped from 1x07: The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, and that last part from, I believe, one of the OUAT novels. I didn't expect this to turn out this way…at all, and it HURT SO MUCH TO WRITE, JFC WATCHING THAT SCENE OVER AND OVER, I SOBBED. But I hope you enjoyed!