Emma flops onto the bed next to Killian, jostling him from sleep with an arm slung over his stomach.
"Emma, love, what time is it?" he groans, not wanting to wake up from what was going to be his lazy Sunday morning sleep.
She leans past him to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. "A little past seven."
"Noooo," he draws out. "Come here." He motions for her to slip under the covers with him. When she does, he pulls her close, tucking her into his side. "Mmm. You're warm," he murmurs.
"You are too." She nuzzles his neck, enjoying this quiet moment with her best friend. That's all they are, friends. His annoying, charismatic charm grew on her, but no matter what he says, she only likes him as a friend. She will defend that to the grave, and beyond. Even if it's not necessarily the entire truth for either of them.
He yawns and stretches, and she can feel his abs tightening under her hand. He's defined, but not in a 'I work out at the gym every day' way - the kind of defined you get from physical labor. With a longing sigh, she recalls the first time she saw him without a shirt, coincidentally the first time she met him.
A door slammed, waking Emma from sleep. She rolled over, examining the clock beside her. 1:00 a.m. is dimly glowing. Someone was shouting in a thick English accent. She threw on a robe and trudged over to her door, throwing it open sleepily. She was caught way off guard when she came face to face with a bare chested man with dark hair and slightly ginger scruff. Her mouth dropped open and she closed it quickly, trying to hide her surprise.
"I apologize, love. I don't normally stand around in hallways without my shirt." He shot her a brilliant smile. "Killian Jones, at your service." He bowed at the waist, with a flourish of his hand, keeping eye contact.
"Emma Swan," she said firmly.
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
"So tell me, Killian Jones, why are you standing, shirtless, outside of my apartment?" She relaxed, leaning on the door frame.
"Oh, I'm your new neighbor. I just moved in this evening and was moving stuff around when I got locked out." He fiddled with one of the rings on his right hand.
"At one in the morning?" She took in his appearance, his tight jeans, and sweaty sheen to his bare skin.
"Is it really that late? Bloody hell. I'm still on California time. It's going to take me a bit to get used to Boston time. I'm sorry for waking you up, love." He turned back to his doorknob, jiggling it.
"You're not going to get in. These locks are practically unpickable; that's why I chose this building. You want to come in and call the landlord? You can stay if you want too. It's going to take a while for him to get here." She stepped back, leaving room for him if he wanted to join her in her apartment.
He eyed her with a raised eyebrow before shrugging and pushing past her. She smiled to herself, shutting the door quietly.
"Feel free to look around, I'm just going to change out of my pajamas."
"No, don't. You're fine the way you are. It seems only fair considering I'm half naked."
"What are you thinking about?" he whispers into her ear.
"The first time we met." She smiles into his neck.
"That was an interesting night."
"Yeah. Hey, I know why you like this so much." She presses herself closer to him, worming a leg in between his.
He chuckles. "You're extra cuddly this morning. Rough night?"
"No more than usual. Just emotionally drained. My mark did some research on me as well. Before I busted him he kept making low blows, hoping it would throw me off."
He kisses the top of her head, leaving his lips there. She doesn't normally let herself get this close with anyone she isn't dating, but years of comforting and pushing boundaries has left them in this cuddly sort of rut.
"Do you have to go into the boatyard today?"
She feels him shake his head.
"Good. I just want to stay right here with you and not move for the rest of the day."
"Then I apologize for what I'm about to do, love." He slides out from under her, leaving her curled in his blankets, a sour look on her face. "Hey, you woke me up, you need to face the consequences."
She squeezes her eyes closed as the light beside the bed clicks on, listening to the soft pads of Killian walking down the hall to the bathroom. A few minutes later she feels him slip back into the bed behind her. His hand snakes around her waist and then she's being dragged backwards into his warm embrace. She lets out a giggle as her back fits against his chest. He rests his chin on her shoulder, rubbing his scruff on her cheek.
"You feel a little scruffy there." She reaches up to pat the side of his face, fingers playing with the long stubble.
"There's no point in shaving right now, as long as it's not a full grown beard. Boats don't care whether I'm shaved or not, and I don't have a girlfriend to impress. No point."
"I like your stubble, but this feels too long," she says in the middle of a yawn.
"How much sleep did you get before you came over here?" He brushes her hair back and to the side, tucking it out of the way.
"I…didn't?" She grins to herself, only slightly ashamed of her all-nighter.
"Emma! You need sleep." He pokes her side in an attempt to make her move so he can reach over her to turn off the light, breath hot on her face. "You are going to sleep right now, lass."
She makes a noise of protest and opens her mouth.
"Aye. I'll stay," he cuts her off with a sigh.
This is how it normally goes when she stays out all night after going after someone. She falls into his bed and wakes him up, then complains about him getting up to go to the bathroom, or on rare occasions, putting a shirt on. He always makes a fuss about it, but they both know he doesn't mind it.
She turns and snuggles into his arms, burying her face in his chest, and breathing him in. He smells like weathered wood and spice, something that after knowing him, never fails to comfort and relax her. It's gotten to the point where, when he went on his trip back to England a few years ago, he got her a small bottle of his cologne as an early Christmas present.
She closes her eyes, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the thud-thud of his heartbeat to lull her to sleep. She finds that sleep doesn't come as easily as usual. All she can think about is what the guy she was tracking said to her last night.
"Ah well if it isn't little orphan Swan. Come to haul me back to jail? I don't see how you're going to convince me when you couldn't convince anyone to adopt you."
Sure she's heard it all, but for whatever reason, this guy got to her.
"Ah, you have a gun. You're going to blow my brains out now right? You have no right deciding whether I go back to jail when you have a criminal record too! Ha. Turn that gun around and point it at yourself. You're no better than I am, so you might as well shoot yourself too."
She had no intention of shooting him; she only drew her gun because he got violent. She couldn't shoot anyone.
"Little orphan Swan thinks she's so strong. I bet you'll never find someone who'll love you-"
That was when she knocked him out with a single punch.
"You okay?" Killian's voice brings her back to the present, breaking the silence. "You're all tense."
She relaxes slowly; she hadn't even realized she was. "Yeah I guess. I don't think I'm going to get any sleep."
As if on cue his stomach growls. "Well, if that's the case, I'm going to make us some breakfast." He looks at her pointedly. "Slash supper." He slides out from under her and the blankets. "Do you want to pick out a movie?"
She nods, rolling out of bed and wrapping his comforter around herself like a cape, before walking to the main room in the house and sitting down on the couch with the TV remote to pick out a movie. "Ah Netflix, you're this insomniac's best friend."
"Hey! I thought I was your best friend?" Killian grumbles as he returns, setting down two plates of omelettes.
The blanket is so fluffy, he only knows where she's sitting on the couch because they have sides where they always sit. He holds out a fork in her general direction with one hand, while he digs into his own omelette. A hand emerges from the blanket cloud to take the fork.
"What movie did you choose?" He asks between mouthfuls of food.
"Trading Places." Her head pops out from in the mass and she starts shoveling food into her mouth, suddenly starving.
"Ah, a classic comedy. Need some cheering up?"
"Mm." She mumbles incoherently.
They finish their plates in record time and he presses play on the remote.
"I'd pull you over here, but I don't know where you are." He pats different parts of the blanket, trying to locate her body, but gives up after a few tries.
She doesn't respond, but he can feel the blanket pile shifting closer until it's partially burying him too. He can feel her hand searching for his under it all and once she finds it, snakes her other arm around his stomach, sort of flopping onto him. A smile spreads across his face and he seeks out her back, rubbing slow circles across it.
She falls asleep within minutes.
Emma wakes up groggy, to Killian gently shaking her shoulder.
"Emma, wake up, darling." He speaks softly into her ear.
She stretches, letting out a huge yawn. "What time is it?"
"A little past noon. I would've let you sleep longer, but my arm fell asleep an hour ago and I don't want you to throw your sleep schedule off more than it already is." He chuckles, shaking out his arm after she moves off of it. "Are you ready to talk about what happened now?" He raises an eyebrow.
"I told you, it was just the usual." She sighs, playing it off as nothing. She hates keeping stuff from him, but he doesn't need to know how much this guy got to her.
"I know you better than you know yourself, Swan." He tips his head towards her.
She really doesn't like how she can't hide a thing from him. "The guy I was trying to bring in was hassling me, told me I should shoot myself because I was no better than him."
Killian's mouth drops open, staring wide-eyed at her
"Obviously I didn't listen!" She links their fingers together.
He closes his eyes, open mouth twisting into a frown. "But it still made some impact."
She rolls her eyes. She knows he means well, but there isn't anything he could say to make what that guy said any less true. She does have a record; she is an orphan; she was some part of why no one ever wanted her. Of course that doesn't mean she's going to down a bottle of pills or put a gun to her head. She has to stick around just to prove everyone wrong.
"It isn't true." He breaks her train of thought.
She tilts her head to the side.
"You are so much better than the people who you hunt down, and you've sure made my life better since I met you." He squeezes her hand, trying to convey everything he means through his eyes.
"Okay, Shakespeare," she pats his leg, "I'm going to go change." She stands up, the blanket falling off her like a shroud. She picks up her phone. "And it looks like I'll be going back out again. Elsa has another one for me." She starts walking towards his door.
"What about our day of relaxing?" He follows behind her like a puppy.
"Looks like it's going to have to be put on hold." She unlocks her apartment door and enters.
"The one day I don't have any emergency boat repairs and you have to work." He pulls the door shut behind them and follows her into her room.
"Hey! I'm changing. Are you trying to sneak a peek or something?" She scolds him, teasing. She doesn't care really. She's known him long enough that they have seen each other in bathing suits, and towels after a shower, but nudity has never really been a thing. They've never changed in front of each other, but what does that matter? She turns away from him and pulls her shirt over her head, revealing the red bra she's wearing under it. If he's going to be in here, he's going to have to deal with the consequences.
"I'm just trying to make the most of our remaining ten minutes of relaxation," he says with a smirk.
She turns around, pointing to a shirt sitting on the chair beside him. "If you're going to be in here you might as well be useful. Can you hand me that one?"
His eyes travel down and over the curve of her breasts, taking in the sight of her, her red bra with the black lace on the bottom, her sculpted abs, how low her jeans sit on her hips.
She's suddenly self conscious as she catches his eyes. She crosses her arms, blushing just enough for him to notice. Maybe this was a bad idea: sure she wanted to get some sort of reaction, but she thought he would make some sort of innuendo or smirk, not be completely speechless. How could she think this was a good idea?
Her phone buzzes, breaking their trance and she pushes past him, grabbing the shirt herself on the way into her living room, casually throwing it on. "I shouldn't be gone too long. Elsa says he was spotted a few blocks from downtown. He should be fairly easy to catch. He broke into a liquor store, stole a few bottles, and then broke into a library when he was arrested. He's harmless." She pulls on her leather jacket hanging by the door. "If all goes well I should be back by seven at the latest and then we can have a relaxing dinner together." She winks at him and then steps out the door.