Killian was a preacher's brother
And when his brother would visit he'd come along
Storybrooke, Ohio. Nothing on the left, nothing on the right. Just a string of farm houses, three blocks of a main downtown and the soft breeze that exists when spring meets summer.
The bug rolls along the country road until she spots the farmhouse. Emma takes a side glance towards her son Henry on the passenger's seat. He's looking at the farmhouse with a soft smile and curious eyes and Emma thanks the stars that she was blessed with this kid.
It's been three months since she and Neal split. Once she'd caught him cheating on her with the next door neighbor, she had taken Henry and a few boxes and left the house they'd shared for the past four years. Here she is now, ready to take on the job as deputy under her good friend David Nolan in god forsaken Storybrooke, Ohio. She looks over at the farm where they will be staying with him, his wife Mary Margaret and their children Leo and Ava until she can get on her own two feet.
Oh well, nothin' but good times ahead, she deadpans to herself.
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It had been almost a week of going from the farm to the sheriff station and from the station to the farm, going through the motions as she studied the local law and got acquainted with the current cases, taking care of small complaints and what not. At night, she curled into the armchair in her room, a glass of wine in her hand as she contemplated when this became her life.
In the blink of an eye, it was Friday afternoon and Mary Margaret was shamelessly encouraging her to leave the house.
"Listen, I'm not saying that you need to go out, but you need to go out," Mary Margaret told her over the dishes they were washing in the kitchen sink. "I'm pretty sure it's been awhile since -" she cleared her throat demurely, "you know."
"Are you telling me I need to go hook up with someone and get laid?" Emma hissed at her, clearly wondering if ten years of living in the countryside had finally made her friend crazy. "You?"
"Emma, I'm not saying you should get laid, I'm just saying that you should have some fun, blow off some steam, you know, the basics…" Mary Margaret said. "It's clear you have some frustration you need to work on."
"I've just gotten here and you are suggesting I go pick up a stranger at the local bar? That is going to do wonders for my reputation," Emma retorted.
"Not here." Mary Margaret rolled her eyes in exasperation, as if she were stating the obvious, "There's a bar two towns from here that you could go to. It's close enough for you to make it back at a reasonable hour and far enough away that you won't run into any of the locals there."
Emma hesitated, taking more time to dry the last dish she had in her hands.
"Hey!" Mary Margaret snapped, "I am more than willing to line up a few of the single, respectable men that I know from church and have them over for dinner. I could have done that, but you and I both know that is not your style. I am giving you a way out and I suggest you take it, because David is already searching through his Wednesday night bowling buddies for a suitor and I know you think I am the worst, but trust me, he is."
Emma sighed, running her hand through her hair. She knew if she refused Mary Margaret today, she'd insist again tomorrow. And the day after. And then again. And again. One or two times. Per hour. Until she got what she wanted.
So Emma decided to cave now and grant her friend her wish. She could drive there, have a beer (or two), and then head back to the farm. She could even lie to Mary Margaret and tell her that she actually got some. Wait, she couldn't. Mary Margaret could spot a lie a mile away after being around third graders every single day. She groaned internally as she put the last dish in the cabinet and headed upstairs to get changed.
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A bar. Well, I guess one could call it a bar. It had a few booths in a corner, an improvised dance floor, dim lights, an old jukebox and a regular pool table. Nothing more, nothing less. She sat by the counter and motioned the bartender for a beer. She turned around as she took the first sip, her eyes scanning the room.
She spotted him standing by the jukebox, his shoulder leaning on the wall in a careless posture that she could bet was anything but careless. Tall, lean body, dark hair and a three-day scruff; he looked effortlessly striking. He looked like trouble. Her tongue darted out of her mouth inadvertently as she bit her lower lip. She hadn't done this in years. Before Neal, or better put, in between Neal leaving her when Henry was a newborn and them trying again when he was six, Emma had had a fair share of one night stands. She was fairly good at picking up a random almost-stranger for the night, scratch that itch and then leaving before the sun was up. It was her way, it was the way it had worked for several years.
She just never thought she'd be back at this moment in her life, sitting in a bar while playing with her hair, stealing glances in the jukebox's direction and waiting for the dark haired stranger to get the hint.
Which he clearly got as his eyes focused on her for a few moments before he pushed himself off the jukebox and walked towards her. She turned around and faced the bar, smiling proudly to herself, a childish sense of accomplishment that she still had it.
She felt a presence sliding into the seat next to hers and heard a thick voice speak before she had time to turn around:
"I would offer to buy a drink, but that would be setting up myself for failure because you already have one." Emma turned around and stumbled upon the bluest eyes she'd seen in her life, and they were looking at her with mischief as he sipped his drink. He had classical features and an accented voice. A killer combination. "So I'm just wondering if I can keep you company tonight?"
She lifted an eyebrow in a master move she had perfected throughout the years, her lips curving in a soft smirk, "Wow, cutting right to the chase. Just like that?"
His eyebrows raised as he gave her an amused look. "Just like that? I saw the way you were looking at me from across the bar," he said, his tongue darting out of his mouth for a brief second, "and I noticed you the moment you entered the bar… so, why waste any time?" He shrugged as he leaned closer. "Either you are not interested... or you are?" he finished the sentence in an innuendo-laced voice, his blue eyes searching hers, an open invitation laid at her feet.
She smirked, taking a sip of her beer before she stood up, her arm and shoulder brushing his body as she did. "I might be. But I'm in the mood for some pool first," she replied as she started to walk towards the pool table, not bothering to look back to see if he was following her.
She felt his hand on her lower back as he stepped by her side, his mouth caressing her ear, "I'll rack 'em." His presence was gone the next minute, as he reached the table and started racking the balls. "I'm Killian," he said as his eyes connected with hers.
"Emma."
They were halfway through the game when things started to heat up a little. His arm would brush hers when it was his turn. She would bend over with a little more purpose to make her shot, taking some extra time to make a decision, and she could feel his eyes roaming all over her body. He would make his shots fast and sharp, before he would move to admire her stance, his intentions clear without even saying a word. Emma chuckled, trying hard to control the grin breaking across her face and she shook her head from side to side in amusement before taking her shot.
He lifted a cool eyebrow at her as he tried to get a read on whether she was laughing at him or with him. "What has you so amused, love?" he asked. "Anything I did?"
She leaned on the pool stick and tilted her head. "I know your type: get in, get what you want and get out."
He took a few steps, invading her personal space, his voice nothing but a low whisper. "Only if that is what they want." He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. " And aren't you the same, darling? It takes one to know one, after all."
She smiled to concede his point. "I used to be. I haven't done it in years."
He cocked an eyebrow, and she could see the innuendo brewing in his mind, but suddenly his features softened into a curious look. "What changed?" he asked, interested, as he leaned in and positioned to make his shot.
"Let's just say he was getting some on the side," she said, noticing the way his jaw clenched at that comment. "What about you? Is this about getting something on the side?" she asked, "Because I am not interested in that."
He shook his head. "Oh no," he replied as he made his shot and stood up, leaning closer to her. "I'm all about no strings attached, no commitment… just some good ol' fun as they call it around here," he finished, cocking an eyebrow at her, his tongue playing with the corner of his mouth.
"How did a guy with an accent like yours end up in Ohio?" she asked, intrigued.
He all but swaggered closer to her, "You want to know my life story, love?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
She pondered his question for a moment. "No, not really."
He leaned in closer, his tilted head only inches away from hers, "Good, because I can think of other ways we could spend this time together."
"Do tell," she said invitingly.
"Let me show you," he whispered softly before closing the remaining distance and kissing her. His lips moved softly at the beginning, but the moment he felt her responding back to him, one of his hands gripped her hip. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking her lips to open them up to him. Her hands moved to bury in his hair, her own movements meeting his as he inserted the pool stick between their bodies. She gasped as she felt the hard wood rubbing lightly between her thighs.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed like this. Hell, she wasn't even sure she'd ever been kissed like this. He discarded the pool stick on the table and spun her swiftly, pressing her against the edge of the table. One of his hands was now tugging at her hair while the other one moved slowly up from her hip, following the line of her waist before softly brushing against the curve of her breast as he continued kissing her. She gasped, her hands grabbing his hair to pull him even closer to her. She parted her legs and he took one step closer, pressing himself against the right place, and she moaned softly at the contact. He smirked against her lips before he broke the kiss, his lips tracing along her skin as he moved to whisper in her ear.
"Why don't we move this to a more private location." His lips caressed the shell of her ear and she bit her lower lip to stifle another moan. "There's a motel down the road, 2 miles south from here. Want to meet me there?"
"God, yes," she agreed quickly
He pulled away, his blue eyes boring into hers, carrying a promise of really good times ahead. "I'll go first, get us a room and wait for you at the entrance," he whispered before leaning in to give her one long, sensual kiss. "See you there, love."
Emma waited a few minutes before quickly making her way to the exit and into the parking lot. Her phone beeped with an incoming text as she got into the car and she quickly pulled it out from her pocket to check it.
Henry has been coughing and has a fever. He's asking for you. Can you get back? I'm sorry, MM
She groaned in frustration, cursing at her bad luck as she hit her head against the wheel. She contemplated driving to the motel to explain, but it would involve precious time and she needed to get back to Henry immediately. And she didn't want to get into her life details with a complete stranger. A few rounds under the sheets, yes. Domestic stories about sick children, not so much. She sighed as she started the car. She had to go back to the farm now and stand 'tall, dark hair and probably great in bed' up.
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Saturday came and went as they spent time inside the house. Henry no longer had a fever, but he was still not feeling well. Emma could sense that while Henry had been adjusting really well to the town, it was still a lot for him to process. So the entire household spent their time watching movies and eating chocolate chip cookies that Mary Margaret had baked.
On Sunday, Mary Margaret ushered them all to church. Emma had refused at the beginning, but Mary Margaret had insisted that Emma needed to meet their preacher. Liam Jones was a pillar in the Storybrooke community, a young and kind man with a lovely wife and two boys. Emma still seemed hesitant, as she usually got more judgemental looks than anything by religious types, but David had stepped in and reassured her that Liam, who was one of his bowling buddies, was anything of the judging sort.
That is how she found herself sitting between Henry and Mary Margaret on one of the pews, listening to the sermon. She had to give it to Mary Margaret, the preacher did seem like a nice guy. His words, laced in a soft foreign accent, were kind and thorough, speaking of the way the Lord should guide us all to a life of understanding and care for others. He seemed sincere in his words and that prompted Emma to listen to him carefully, while her eyes scanned the small church for inspiration.
She jerked in her seat, involuntarily gasping as her eyes settled on the first row opposite her side where she spotted the dark haired stranger from Friday night. He was sitting, listening to the sermon with what seemed feigned interest. The noise of her sudden movements caused Mary Margaret to look at her and for him to turn around to see where the noise was coming from. His eyes found her and his face twisted in shock first, followed by recognition. A dangerous smirk came to his face as his tongue darted to the corner of his mouth and he slowly turned his head back to the front.
Fuck. She winced mentally, scolding herself for the thought of such language inside the church.
When the service was over, Emma and Henry quickly followed the Nolans outside, where the preacher was greeting people. There was a tall blonde dressed in a blue summer dress next to him and two small boys a few years younger than Henry.
"Liam," Mary Margaret said, "this is Emma and Henry. Emma started working with David at the station."
"It's great to finally meet you, Emma," Liam said cordially, his hand darting out to shake hers, his smile genuine. "This is my wife, Elsa and our children, Declan and Phin."
Elsa smiled brightly at Emma, who smiled back, tucking a strand of hair nervously behind her ear, quickly stealing glances towards where people were gathering outside the church. She was hoping this man - Killian - had already left, as she wanted to avoid any awkward situations.
And then she heard that accented voice that had given her one or two very vivid dreams in the past two nights. "I finally get to meet our new deputy. Sheriff Nolan here has kept you hidden like a very dirty secret," he said as he materialized out of nowhere and stood next to the preacher, his eyes focused on Emma.
"Killian!" Elsa exclaimed, but Killian just gave her a sideways glance and a small smile before turning his attention back to Emma.
Liam ran his hand through his hair, "Emma, this man who clearly has no sense of propriety is my little brother."
"Younger brother," Killian corrected and Emma's eyes widened in shock. Standing side by side, she could see the resemblance between the two, especially in their blue eyes. But while Liam's eyes were crystal clear and friendly, Killian's were a shade darker and very dangerously roaming over her. He moved to take the hand she had offered in her surprise, but instead of shaking it, he took it slowly towards his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Killian Jones, milady, at your service. Welcome to Storybrooke, love."
Emma had only one thought at that moment. She was screwed.
And if Killian Jones had any say in the matter, she could tell from the hooded look underneath his eyelashes, the sideways smirk he was giving her and the way his lips brushed her knuckles a little more than what could have been considered proper, she was going to get thoroughly screwed.
Six ways til Sunday.
