This fic refers to two songs:
"Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney
and "Fáinne Gael en Lae" sung by Na Casaidigh
Do give the second one a listen (either now or when it appears in the story), because Gaelic sounds very different from how it's written.
Emma walked, hands in her pockets, a light breeze playing with the few strands of hair that had escaped her coat collar. It was a surprisingly warm evening for early April, the break in the weather making her feel restless for some reason, sending her wandering through the town. She had been trying to get through some more paperwork until she realized that she had read the same paragraph five times and had simply given up.
She was startled when she recognized the sound of the waves breaking apart on the shore, unaware that she had drifted so close to the beach. The bright hues of the recently set sun were mesmerizing as they reflected on the water, and the first few stars were beginning to show. Emma leaned against a railing and looked out across the rippling water, her eyes closing as the rhythmic sound soothed the ached at the base of her neck.
She didn't know how long she had been standing there when she realized that someone was singing, the music barely audible over the sound of the waves. Emma opened her eyes, surprised to see Killian several yards down the beach, his lips moving in time with the music she assumed was streaming through his headphones, the occasional flick of his wrist sending pebbles sailing out into the water. She found herself drawn towards him, her footsteps barely disturbing the rocky shore as she sat on a large piece of driftwood while he sang:
"Turn the lights down low
Walk these halls alone
We can feel so far
From so close
Like ships in the night
You keep passing me by
Just wasting time
Trying to prove who's right
And if it all goes crashing into the sea
If its just you and me
Trying to find the light
Like ships in the night"
"Where did you get an iPod?" Emma asked.
Killi—Hook dropped the rest of the stones and whirled around, his hand reaching for a sword that no longer hung at his side. He bowed when he saw her, his arms going out to accent the graceful gesture and his face splitting into a grin as his eyes met hers. "Miss Swan, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you out here this fine evening?
Emma smirked at him, not missing the way he dodged her question. "Where did you get it, Hook?"
He righted himself and removed the sleep mp3 player from his pocket. "Oh, the music box? I won it from Dr. Whale in a game called Poker. Have you heard of it? I think you would be quite good at it."
Emma shook her head as she tried not to laugh, the boyish delight on his face infectious. He just grinned at her and replaced the iPod before snagging the neck of a glass bottle that had been resting on the shore next to him. He took a long swig, his eyes never leaving hers, before holding the bottle out to her as an offering.
"That better not be alcohol, Hook…it's illegal to drink in public."
Killian just smiled as he sauntered over to her and plopped down on the log at her side. "But we're not in public, Love." He gestured to the empty beach before them. "Only us two wee souls on the edge of the great salty sea."
Emma glared at him. "You're drunk."
He just smiled and put his arm around her shoulder. "That is where you are most definitely wrong, Love." He took another swig from the bottle. "I am still in the process of drinking."
She just sighed and stood, using the arm around her shoulders to drag him to his feet and follow her back towards town. "My place or yours?" he whispered in his ear, his warm breath making her shiver unconsciously.
"I'm putting you in a cell to sober up," she shot at him as she tamped down on the heat trying to spread through her body. She was not going to sleep with Captain Hook. Especially not while he was drunk!
"Going to chain me up again?" he asked quietly, the words unintentionally slipping out before he could hold them in.
Emma stopped dead in her tracks, her teeth grinding from her frustration and—surprisingly—guilt. When she started walking again, she turned them towards Granny's instead, the lead weight in her gut lessening some. They walked in somewhat companionable silence, Killian only using his hold on her shoulders to balance himself every once in a while, until he started singing again, his soft, resonant voice filling the air around her:
"Maidin moch do ghabhas amach
Ar bhruach Locha Léin
An Samhradh 'teacht 's an chraobh len' ais
Is ionrach te ón ngréin
Ar thaisteal dom trí bhailte poirt
Is bánta mine réidhe
Cé a gheobhainn le m'ais ach an chúileann des
Le fáinne geal an lae."
"What language is that?" Emma asked, afraid of breaking the magic of the moment but too curious to be able to hold the words back.
Killian gave a low chuckle. "Irish Gaelic, apparently. My tongue seems to have a knack for it. I'm not sure why." They continued in silence for a few moments before he added, "I can keep going, if you want."
"Sure," Emma said a little too quickly, eager for the magic that his singing brought to return.
Killian sang through two more verses as they maneuvered through the inn's door and up the narrow flight of stairs to his borrowed room, the final sentence hanging in the air as Emma steered him towards his bed.
"Coming in for a goodnight kiss, Love?"
She dropped him on the bed. "You think you're real charming, don't you? What are you singing about, how to milk the cows and grow potatoes and drink yourself to death?"
His lips twisted in his so-no-amused smile, and she pulled the blanket that graced the foot of the bed up to his chin. "Sleep tight," she said as she kissed his forehead gently and turned towards the door, only to be stopped short when his fingers twisted in her own.
She looked back at him and was pierced by the blue of his eyes, his gaze more naked than she had ever seen. "Stay with me." He swallowed. "Please?"
Emma frowned at him. "I am not going to have sex with you, Killian."
He pursed his lips at her. "That's not what I was asking, Love. I…don't want to be alone." She could see how much the admission cost him. His lids drew shut, perhaps not wanting to see her reaction to his next statement. "I don't want you to leave me."
Killian didn't open his eyes in the silence that followed. Emma simply stood there, waiting for the fear and unease to kick in and make her want to run. But they didn't. She blinked and searched herself again, still unable to find anything but a warm fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it would be ok, she thought as her fingers slid around his hook and twisted it from its mount. "One rule," she said, smiling as his eyes snapped open in shock. "This stays on the bedside table."
She slid under the blanket and he gathered her in his arms, his nose nestling in her hair as he inhaled deeply. Her eyes drifted closed as Killian did his best to fit the English words into the place of their Gaelic counterparts, lulling Emma towards sleep:
"One morning early I went out
On the shore of Lough Leinn
The leafy trees of summertime,
And the warm rays of the sun,
As I wandered through the townlands,
And the luscious grassy plains,
Who should I meet but a beautiful maid,
At the dawning of the day.
Not a shoe, nor sock, nor cape, nor cloak
Had the maiden from the sky
Her golden hair in tresses hung
And touched the grass up high
In her hand she held a milking pail
In the dew she looked so fair
Her beauty excelled even Helen of Troy
At the dawning of the day.
The young maiden sat by my side
On a green grassy bench
Joking her and claiming
That I'd never part with her
She turned and said, "Please go away,"
You are not wide awake"
Here come the lights, I must be gone
With the dawning of the day."