My contribution to CS January Joy on Tumblr. Hope you like!
She notices him on the first day of class.
It's hard not to, considering she's late (as usual), and the only seat available is in the middle of the room, right next to his. The professor- Mills, she thinks is her name- pauses in the middle of her sentence when Emma walks in, glancing at the clock and then giving her what could only be described as a death glare for coming in almost ten minutes after class began. Heat colors her cheeks as she mumbles an apology and makes her way toward the empty seat, not paying much attention to the other students around her. She sits down and quietly removes her things from her bag in an attempt to stay inconspicuous, failing when her only pencil rolls off of the desk onto the floor. She stifles a curse as she watches it roll away from her, knowing she'll only piss her professor off even more if she has to leave her seat to get it.
Emma's about to get up and go after it anyway- she can't take any notes without it, and Mills already has several up on the Power Point- when she catches the person beside her sticking out a foot to stop its rolling as they lean down to retrieve it and place it back on her desk. Mumbling a quick "thanks", she opens her notebook to the first blank page and tries her best to focus on whatever Mills was rambling on about before she came in and interrupted her.
Less than five minutes later, she's come to the conclusion that paying attention in this class was going to be much harder than she thought. It's not really a surprise; she has absolutely no interest in Economics, and only signed up for the class in order to fill one of her few remaining gen eds before she graduates at the end of the semester. The rest of the class time is divided between taking lackluster notes and sneaking glances at the pencil returner on her left. Emma tries not to let her gaze linger, only looking long enough to see a head of dark, messy hair that matches his five o'clock shadow, and the cluster of tattoos covering the majority of his right arm. It's enough to have her intrigued, very intrigued if she's being honest with herself, but the voice in the back of her head reminds her that there are much more important things to focus on in the middle of a lecture than the mysterious guy in the next seat over.
After what seems like hours of being stuck in the classroom, Mills finally wraps up her lecture by giving them an outrageous amount of reading that's to be done before their next class on Thursday. Emma means to thank the stranger again for picking up her pencil, but he's quickly up and out the door before she has a chance to put her notebook away. It was only the first day of the semester, she thought as she left Economics and went two floors down for her next class, a Psychology course with Dr. Hopper, one of her favorite teachers from the year before. There would be plenty of chances to thank her classmate later on. (She hoped, anyway.)
-/-
Emma sets her alarm half an hour earlier on Thursday morning, not wanting to gain any more unnecessary attention from Mills for being late yet again. Not only is she early, but she manages to beat her professor to class, a habit she's already willing to bet won't last long. Despite the time, a good number of students are already there when she arrives, talking to other classmates or mindlessly scrolling on their phones and laptops. She decides to go ahead and take the same seat she was at for the last class, figuring the middle of the room was a safe spot: not close enough to the front to easily get called on, but not too far back that she'd have to wait in a long line when it came time to leave.
She's looking down at her phone, replying to a text from Mary Margaret when she hears someone walk by and settle into the seat beside hers. It's not a huge surprise to glance up and see the same guy from Tuesday sitting there; Emma's not sure if that was hope or just coincidence.
He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to her or anyone else in the room, twisting a silver band he wears around his index finger like it's an old familiar habit. At a better glance, she can tell he appears to be what most would consider your average "bad boy": the tattoos, dark clothing, a small stud in one of his ears. There's a black leather jacket slung over the back of his seat, probably not enough to keep him warm from the chill in the January air, but still completes the kind of image he seems to mirror.
Part of her is hesitant to even acknowledge him; he looks a lot like the type of man she's learned to stay far, far away from since she came to school as a naive freshman almost four years ago. But she also knows it's completely unfair to judge a book by its cover without being at least somewhat familiar with its contents first. It's the boost of confidence she needs when she says "Hi," a friendly, yet nervous smile on her face.
His eyes widen as he looks over at her under the bit of hair that's fallen in his face. She watches as he glances around, making sure it was actually him she was speaking to before replying, "Hello." The accent shouldn't catch her off guard the way it does; the school had a fairly large foreign exchange program in conjunction with another university in London and she's met quite a few students from across the pond thanks to it. But it still makes her stomach flip-flop in a way that's all but impossible to ignore.
"I, uh, never really got a chance to thank you the other day" she says, "for picking my pencil up after I dropped it."
He nods a bit as he recalls what she's talking about."Think nothing of it, love. Just trying to help." He gives her a slight smile that doesn't quite cover up the nervousness that probably matches her own. It's surprising in a way; he doesn't seem like the type to have trouble around girls, or anyone for that matter. But, for all Emma knows, he could very well be as bad as talking people as she was. She doesn't have many friends outside of her brother and his girlfriend; starting a conversation with a stranger felt almost like a foreign concept.
"I need all the help I can get here…" she trails off for no particular reason. "I think I've already managed to get on Mills' bad side for coming in late Tuesday."
Emma thinks she sees him crack the smallest trace of another smile. "From what I've heard, getting on her bad side isn't hard to do. I'm only in this bloody class because I have to be."
"Same here. I'm Emma," she adds after a moment.
"Killian," he responds. "It's nice to meet you, Emma."
She's just returned the same sentiment when their professor enters the room, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor. It disappoints Emma a bit, not only because her hour and fifteen minutes of torture is about to begin, but she wanted more time to talk to her classmate. Sharing just a few words with Killian made her even more curious about just who the guy sitting beside her was, but it would likely take more than just the one conversation to find out.
The lecture was dull and boring, just as Emma assumed it would be. The one bright spot out of it all was that she'd have a full weekend afterwards to forget all about her professor and the class she taught (aside from the ridiculous amount of homework she expected they'd be assigned.) Just as expected, Mills wrapped up the lecture by giving them enough work for two or three courses combined to be done before Tuesday's class. As she puts her notebook and pencils away in her bag, she can't help but notice that Killian isn't in nearly as much of a hurry to leave as he was a few days ago. He's still sitting at his desk, packing his own things when she stands up to leave. "Um," she starts, feeling the need to say something to him, but not exactly sure of what. "I guess I'll see you Tuesday?" She silently hopes that she isn't coming across as awkward as she feels.
"Aye." He smiles a bit, and she has to remind herself how to breathe. "Have a nice day, love."
-/-
She spends the better part of the weekend with Killian on her mind, slightly hating herself for it. Sure, he was good looking; she'd have to be out of her mind not to think so. But a handsome face shouldn't be enough to have her struggling to focus on anything else, so much that people around her are able to point it out.
She's at the library with David and Mary Margaret on Sunday afternoon, eating chocolate chip cookies pilfered from the dining hall as they sit at one of the square tables studying for their upcoming American Literature exam when she sees him outside of class for the first time.
"Okay, what event started the beginning of the Realistic period in American lit?" her brother asks as the three of them take turns going through their class notes. "Emma?"
The sound of her name breaks her current reverie of thoughts as she replayed her brief conversation with Killian over in her head. "What? Um...the end of the Civil War," she answers quickly, trying to pretend she'd been paying attention to either of them.
David and Mary Margaret exchange looks of suspicion before turning back to her. "Are you alright, Emma?"
"Yeah, I'm totally fine!" she answers, the response sounding much chipper than she'd intended. It's clear from the expressions on their faces that they don't seem to fully believe her, but neither bothers her with more questions as the main topic of conversation goes back to studying. Emma tries her best to focus after being called out; she's determined to get an A on this exam, and spending time thinking about her classmate certainly wasn't the way to do that.
What feels like hours later, Mary Margaret closes her binder full of notes and tosses it to the side. "I think it's time for a break. And dinner," she adds, looking at the time on her wristwatch. "It's after six."
"How about that new pizza place on Main Street? I heard they give student discounts on Sundays," David suggests. The girls both agree with his idea as the three of them begin collecting their things.
"I'm going to the bathroom before we leave; be back in a sec," Emma says, stepping away from the table. A few minutes later she's exiting the restroom when she spots a flier for the upcoming baseball game that grabs her attention. She's too caught up in reading the game details that she doesn't pay attention to where she's going, and promptly runs into a wall.
"Bloody hell."
Whoops. Not a wall, a person. And one with a voice that she's heard before.
She looks up to see Killian wincing a bit at where she's not so gently collided with his right arm. "Oh my god. Killian, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" she stammers, feeling her cheeks flush bright red with embarrassment.
He manages a smile, despite the fact that he's got good reason to be annoyed with her. "It's quite alright, love. Although I'll admit, you certainly make an impact," he chuckles.
"I really am sorry," she apologizes again. "I should have been watching where I was going."
Killian's still smiling at her, although he's starting to look more nervous than amused. "Like I said, nothing to worry about." He reaches up to scratch a spot behind his ear, as if he's not sure what to say or do next. "I, ah, was just on my way out." He gestures to the backpack slung over his shoulder. "See you Tuesday, love," he tells her, smiling as he turns back and heads in the direction he was going when she ran into him.
At first, she's not sure what to make of their unexpected encounter, and one look at her brother's face when she gets back to their table lets her know she's not alone. "Why were you talking to him?" David asks, gritting his teeth.
"Huh?"
"Why were you talking to that guy? Is he a friend of yours?"
It's clear by the tone of David's voice that Killian clearly isn't a friend of his; she hadn't even noticed him watching them. "I don't know that I'd call him a friend; we just have a class together."
"Who are you talking about, babe?" Mary Margaret asks him.
"Killian Jones. He lived on my hall freshman year, was always getting into trouble." He frowns at Emma. "Do yourself a favor and keep your distance from him."
She can't help but roll her eyes. While she does appreciate him constantly looking out for her, he had a tendency to act like the father she never had where guys were concerned. "David, we have one class together. You act as if we're getting married or something. Anyway, that was almost four years ago," she tells him as they leave the library, the remnants from the last snowfall crunching under their boots. It's gotten much colder since they arrived a few hours ago she thinks, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.
"Your sister has point, babe," Mary Margaret agrees, giving her boyfriend a look. "I'm sure Killian has done a lot of growing up since then, just like most of us."
He still doesn't look convinced. "Yeah, well…" He looks at Emma. "Just be careful who you get close to, okay? I don't want you to get hurt." He doesn't add 'again', which she's grateful for. No one needed to be reminded about the fiasco with Neal that almost got her both expelled and arrested her first semester of college.
"I know. I'll try my best."
And even though Killian isn't brought up again, Emma finds herself more curious about him than ever.
-/-
She's running late for class yet again on Tuesday, her phone dying in the middle of the night causing her to be without an alarm. Professor Mills, who's too busy taking care of something with the Power Point to notice her, starts her lecture all of thirty seconds after Emma takes her usual seat. It shouldn't be a surprise to see Killian beside her in his, doodling something in the margins of his notebook. He gives her a smile when she arrives, one she can't help but return. Any happiness she feels is short lived, however, when Mills reminds them that their first exam is only a week away. Emma fights the urge to slam her beanie-clad head against her desk; she'd written down the exam date when she saw it on the syllabus the first day of class, but had completely forgotten about it since. Who gave exams on the third week on the semester anyway?
When class is dismissed, she only takes the time to say something along the lines of "Have a nice day" to Killian before heading straight to the library. She could afford to skip her other two classes that afternoon, but doing badly on this exam was a different story considering the trouble she already had with learning the material so far. The next several hours were spent combing through her notes, making flash cards, and trying to absorb the dull material from their textbook that she's barely had a chance to look at before today. She's just finished reading the same paragraph for what has to be the fourth time in a row when she hears a familiar voice behind her.
"I see someone else had the same idea I did." Killian approaches her, his own textbook tucked under his arm. "Studying for that exam, are we?"
Emma sighs in defeat and pushes her book to the side. "More like trying not to fail. I might as well be learning a foreign language at this point."
"Oh, come on, love. It's not all that bad."
"You mean to tell me you actually understand this stuff Mills is trying to teach us?"
"A bit." He shrugs. "My brother's an accountant; I used to help quiz him on a lot on things like this when he was in school. I might be able to offer you some assistance if you'd like." Killian does the same ear-scratch thing she noticed the last time they saw each other in the library; she figured it must be a nervous habit of his, just like she picked at her nails.
"I think you'd be my hero," she laughs and motions for him to sit down. As he takes the seat across from her, she opens her textbook and flips back to the section that was bothering her earlier before he showed up. She tells him what she has trouble understanding the most, and he tries his best to explain it to her in a way that makes sense.
They've been at it about half an hour when he opens his notebook to show her something he'd written down from one of Mills' lectures and she spots the drawings. She'd noticed him doodling in class earlier, but what she sees now isn't just mindless scribbles. Most of the margins from the page he used today are filled with sketches of flowers- orchids, she thinks. They look almost real, and she tells him so. His cheeks go red with embarrassment at the compliment. "Just something I tend to do whenever I've had enough of listening to lectures. It's become a bit of a bad habit this semester since several of my classes are so dull."
"Are you studying art?"
"No, architecture, actually." He tells her. "I do enjoy drawing quite a bit, though."
"Should I start calling you Picasso now?"
Killian laughs. "I wouldn't go that far, love. Only thing I have that I'd consider worth noting is these," he gestures to the tattoos on his arm, now visible since he's shed his leather jacket.
"You designed all of those?" she asks, her eyes widening in surprise. She'd seen his tattoos on the first day of class; it was kind of hard not to notice them. But now, sitting across from him, she's able to look at them closely and take in the intricate designs embedded on his arm. The largest one is a compass, the black lines wrapping around the sides of his arm and intertwining with the rest of the tattoos. From where she's sitting, it looks as if the other ones she can see are a celtic cross and a quote in Greek or Latin, but she thinks it best not to sit here examining his arm like a freak since she still barely knows him.
"That's impressive. It was all I could do to sit through this one," she says, moving her bracelet to show him the small buttercup on her left wrist.
He smiles at her as he examines the flower etched into her skin. "It suits you quite nicely."
Emma ends up discovering quite a bit about Killian during their time at the library. She learns that he changed his major three times before deciding on architecture, watches Star Trek religiously, and has no family aside from his brother who still lives in London, where the two of them were born and raised. Similarly, she shares a bit about herself as well, like her own lack of family aside from David and how it lead to her studying to be a social worker. Despite her initial hesitation at having anything to do with him at first, Emma's beginning to feel as if she and Killian Jones are more alike that she realized, and it actually doesn't bother her at all.
-/-
She's not exactly sure how they become such good friends, it just...happens. It's not only short conversations before and after class and meeting for library study sessions anymore, although she's quite thankful for said sessions since it helps her maintain a B in Economics. It's Star Trek marathons after he finally convinces her to watch it with him, talking the other into doing school work when their motivation is nonexistent, and texting all hours of the night about nothing of any real importance. (She vaguely remembers having an hour long discussion one Friday night when they were both slightly inebriated over which flavor of Doritos was the best; unsurprisingly, neither of them actually won.)
Her brother makes no effort to hide his disapproval of Killian when he first learns about their friendship, but thankfully he's been too preoccupied between a stressing over his last semester of school and making plans for proposing to Mary Margaret soon to pester her about him. Even if he did, it wouldn't have made a difference to Emma; she knew what kind of guy he really was. Over time, he proves himself to be worthy of her trust, which is how she ends up telling him about Neal and the awful situation he got her into when he tried to steal exam answers from the university's computer system and blamed the whole thing on Emma. Killian comes clean about things in his own past as well, sharing his own less than favorable experiences from freshman year that earned him a bad rap with most people, her brother being one of them. In all honesty, he was never as bad as David initially made him out to be, just a naive freshman away from home and his older brother for the first time who made a few reckless decisions that he's since tried to make amends for. She knows exactly how that feels, and tells him just as much.
Not long after they two of them become friends, Emma notices that he doesn't seem to have any others besides her. It saddens her a bit, not only because she knows all too well what that's like, but because he's not often given a chance to show others what kind of guy he really is beneath the outer layers. Sure, he might have his fair share of tattoos and seem a bit rough around the edges, things that many were just too close minded to accept. But he's also got a heart of gold, she learns, and is also one of the biggest dorks she's ever met.
It's his said dorkiness that causes Emma to look at him in a whole new light, and of course it happens in the most ridiculous circumstance possible.
They're stuck in Economics yet again, which seems to be what most of the milestones in their friendship so far have revolved around. Emma's trying her best to pay attention to whatever Mills is droning on about today; it's the Thursday before spring break, and this was the last place she or any other student felt like being at. The only bright spot was that the semester was slowly but surely coming to an end and she'd never have to hear about Mills or the class she taught ever again. She's also somewhat disappointed because all though it means she's that much closer to finally graduating with her degree, she's not sure where their friendship will stand afterwards when they're both expected to go out into the real world. Thankfully, she's been lucky enough to already receive quite a few job offers, most of them being in Boston, but she hasn't made a decision on what she wants to take just yet. She hasn't even asked Killian where he's planning to go, too scared to find out in case he wants to design buildings in Tasmania or somewhere far off where she may never see or hear from him again.
She's in the middle of scribbling down a note from the Power Point when there's a slight cracking sound, one look at her pencil showing her the lead has broken off of the tip. (What is it about this damn class and her pencil's, Emma may never know.) Knowing she doesn't have another one in her bag, she slips her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and quickly sends a message to Killian.
Can I use your extra pencil?
She knows he'll see it right away since he's got his phone balanced on his leg under the desk, focused on something that he's been watching since the lecture began. Sure enough, she can make out the alert at the top of the screen that he receives just seconds later. Emma leans over to take the pencil he's holding out to her, mouthing a quick "thanks" as she goes back to finishing the notes she was working on before. A few minutes later, she's surprised to hear Killian let out what sounded like a laugh that he quickly faked as a cough after getting a death glare from Mills. Confused, she takes out her phone again to ask him what's going on, until she leans over just enough to spot what exactly he was laughing at.
She's able to make out a clip of an orange cat skidding across a kitchen counter and unceremoniously falling to the floor.
The idiot was watching cat videos in the middle of class.
Emma doesn't know whether to laugh or roll her eyes as she sends him another text. Cat videos during a lecture? Really, Killian?
She watches as he receives the message and his face turns red when he reads it and realizes he's been caught, and by his best friend at that. (They both knew she'd never let him live it down.) Don't judge me, Swan. I came across the bloody video by accident and it was simply too funny to stop watching.
Just like he "accidentally" came across Star Trek trivia videos a few weeks ago, and spent two hours watching them while they were supposed to be studying for their last exam. You're officially the biggest dork I've ever met.
Killian looks up at her and smiles, the same one that had stuck with her since the day they met what felt like months ago now. Aye, maybe so. But you love me for it.
His intentions are harmless; he probably only sent it to make her laugh or earn some kind of sarcastic comment in return. But Emma finds herself staring at the message, reading the words over and over again as she questions the meaning behind them.
Does she love him? Her heart raced a bit ask she asked herself the question. Sure, he's her best friend, so obviously she cared about him in an expected sense, just like she cared for her brother. But she'd never thought of anything beyond their friendship, beyond the Netflix marathons and study sessions. Of course he was good looking; she'd acknowledged that the first time she saw him. And yeah, he was sweet, funny, caring, always made the effort to be there for her when she needed him, had constantly proved himself worthy of earning her trust…
Oh, no. Maybe she loved him after all. (And not in the way she did David; her life wasn't an episode of Game of Thrones.)
Emma saw out of the corner of her eye that Killian was watching her, probably still waiting for some kind of response to his last text. She tried her best to force a smile his way, then turned back to her notes and didn't look at him again for the rest of the class. As soon as they were dismissed, she up and hurried off to her next class without giving him so much as a wave goodbye.
She backed out of their dinner plans for that night not long after and then ignored his texts for the rest of the day. She knew it wasn't fair to shut him out like this when he hadn't really done anything to deserve it, but shutting people out was unfortunately something she did well. There were a few times over the past few months that she'd caught herself wondering what it would be like if they were more than just friends, if she was willing to take the chance to find out if this thing between them could possibly turn into something else. In all honestly, it would probably be good, great even considering how amazing of a friend he'd been to her. But if she were wrong and things went south...it would be worth it to turn a blind eye to her feelings rather than risk losing his presence in her life altogether.
That's what Emma tells herself, anyway, that night while she sits alone in her dorm room eating one of those microwaveable mac and cheese dinners and watching cat videos on her laptop. (She managed to find the one Killian had been watching in class on YouTube, and had to admit it was pretty hilarious.) She should be at Granny's with him right now, should be cracking jokes together over greasy food instead of sulking here by herself. And it's no one's fault but her own that she's not.
She's about halfway through the mac and cheese when she comes to the conclusion that it's basically inedible and chucks it in the garbage can beside her desk. What she wouldn't give for a grilled cheese and a side of onion rings, no doubt what she would have ordered had she kept her and Killian's dinner plans rather than chickening out.
She feels a twinge of guilt and wonders if he still went by himself, probably having nothing better to do and no one to do it with. Her guilt only grows as she thinks of how lonely they're both going to be sooner than later if she continues to pull away from him like she has nearly all day. They'll
both be graduating soon and going who knows where afterwards; there's no sense in putting added strain on their relationship along with everything that's to come over the next few months. That thought alone tells her what she needs to do.
Emma makes the decision as she's pulling on her leather jacket and boots, in a hurry to go find Killian, wherever he may be. If he didn't go to Granny's, he's most likely in his own dorm less than five minutes away. She's going to talk to him and sort this out before it gets out of hand. And, even though it scared the life out of her up until just minutes ago, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to tell him how she feels. There's still the chance that it could all blow up in her face, but she knows she'll regret it if they do end up separated after graduation and she was never completely honest with him.
She's in the process of grabbing her phone and keys and trying to decide exactly what the hell she's going to say to him when there's a light knock on the door. The sound quickened her pulse. David and Mary Margaret were seeing a movie tonight, meaning there's only one other option as to who's probably there. Her palms are clammy as she goes to the door and opens it to see Killian standing in the hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"Hi." she says, her voice slightly shaking as she smiles at him.
"Hello, Swan." The smile he gives in return doesn't quite reach his eyes. It doesn't help to know it's probably her fault. His last two texts had both been asking whether or not he'd done something to bother her; she'd left them unanswered.
"You, uh, wanna come in?"
"Not sure I should," he sighs.
"What do you mean?" she asks, even though she likely knows the answer. He hasn't been blind to her avoidance today.
Killian frowns. "Emma, if I've done something to upset you, I'd really like to know what it is so I can make amends."
Of course he thinks it's his fault. It stings a bit to know she'd made him blame himself. "You didn't do anything…" she trails off, "it's just-"
The roar of laughter that comes from a group of obnoxiously loud guys in the room next door makes her jump; looks like her dorm wasn't the best place for this conversation.
"Do you want to go for a walk or something? We can go to Granny's if you haven't already eaten dinner; my treat."
Five minutes later, they're headed for the diner, a considerable length of space between them. Emma can tell he's waiting for her to say something by the way he keeps shooting glances at her out of the corner of his eye, although he doesn't pester her about it.
"I guess you deserve an explanation for me bailing on you all day," she finally says, unable to stand the awkward silence between them.
"As I said before, Swan, I'd just like to know that I haven't done anything wrong."
"And like I said before, Killian, of course you haven't. I'm sorry I made you think that. It's just, you said something earlier today that made me admit something to myself, and I've needed some time to sort it all out...or at least try to, anyway."
His brow furrows in confusion, as if he's trying to remember what he's said to her today that could have had any impact. "And what might that be, love?"
"Well, today in class when I called you a dork because of that stupid cat video and you said I loved you for it I know you probably meant it as a joke but it had me thinking that maybe I really do love you and it scared me so I freaked out and that's why I've been avoiding you all day," she blurts out, breathless. She fixes her gaze on the sidewalk under their feet and doesn't look up, nervous to hear what he has to say now that she's poured out her heart in front of him.
"Emma," he breathes. "Did you mean all of that?"
"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." She finally looks up from the sidewalk and immediately regrets it. If the look on Killian's face is anything to go by, he's apparently feeling a mixture of emotions that has her wishing she had just kept her mouth shut. "J-Just forget I said anything," she stammers, and turns away to leave.
Killian reaches out and grabs her arm before she's a full step away from him. "Swan, wait!"
"No, it's okay," she tells him, shaking her head as she speaks. "I knew this would only screw things up; it's why I didn't want to tell you. And even if everything was fine for now, we're graduating in what? Less than two months? You could end up designing shit in Tasmania or something and I'd probably never see you again anyway."
Emma finally looks up when she hears him chuckling; it takes all of her self control not to slap that ridiculous grin off of his face. "What are you laughing at?"
His laughing quickly ceases when he realizes she's not nearly as amused. "First of all, I don't even know where the bloody hell Tasmania is, so you don't have to worry about me ever going there."
"It's somewhere near Australia," she mumbles, now feeling ridiculous.
"Second," he continues, "Boston has actually come to grow on me quite a bit over the past four years; I don't plan on leaving it anytime soon." That makes her smile a bit, knowing him leaving is at least one thing she doesn't have to worry about.
"And third...saying how you feel about me can't exactly screw things up if I feel the same way about you, can it?"
She's not sure how to respond at first as his words slowly sink in. "Wait, you mean…?"
"Aye." He smiles. "I'm surprised you didn't already know since you tend to be quite perceptive, Swan, but I started falling in love with you quite some time ago."
It's hard to do anything but stand there and stare at him, feeling like a complete idiot for not having a clue that he could have possibly felt the same way she did. "And just how long ago would that be?"
Killian shrugged, that silly grin still on his face. "I'd say the first day of class when you dropped your pencil in front of my desk."
"You know that sounds like something out of a rom com, right?"
"Aye...but you love me for i-"
She grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and fuses their lips together before he can finish. They both know it's true, anyway.
-/-
They don't waste any time making things official. David's not thrilled when she tells him and Mary Margaret, but he eventually gets over his initial prejudices and accepts their relationship when he realizes just how happy Killian makes her. Over time, the two of them even develop an odd friendship of sorts, which makes Emma question on more than one occasion if the two of them love each other more than they do her and Mary Margaret.
If she didn't know that any of her fears about the two of them were unnecessary before, she finds out when they both walk the stage to get their diplomas in May, and then begin their new jobs in Boston the next week. Less than a month later, they move into their first apartment where they have Star Trek marathons almost every night and get their own cat who's in her fair share of videos that Killian makes and sends her at random moments throughout the day when she needs a good laugh.
Emma couldn't be more grateful for that one available seat on her first day of Economics.