Even If It Breaks Your Heart
Emma took a deep, steadying breath as she stared intently at her reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink. She found herself wishing that her mother or even Henry were around to give her an opinion on her outfit, but Mary Margaret was busy with baby Neal and Henry was staying with Regina, so she was on her own. Emma guessed she looked okay. It felt like an age had passed since the last time she put this much effort into her appearance. Life in Storybrooke – where it sometimes seemed as though major crises occurred at a rate of approximately one per hour – didn't exactly afford her much time to indulge her own vanities. Calamities aside, Emma was trying very hard to follow her father's advice and "look for the moments." Which was precisely how she had found herself in this particular situation: dressed to the nines, hair perfectly coiffed, and make-up expertly applied, counting down the minutes until she had to leave for her date with Killian.
An involuntary shiver rippled down Emma's spine as she remembered the way he'd kissed her in the middle of the street the night before. They'd been arguing and she'd stormed out of Granny's in a rage. Emma had lost count of the number of men she'd turned her back on over the years. Not one of them had ever cared enough to follow her when she ran, but she should've known that Killian would be the first. He'd pleaded with her to forgive him, calling her "sweetheart" and begging for her to trust him. When she had hesitated, he'd grabbed her, crushing her against him as he claimed her lips in a searing kiss that left her immediately aching and breathless. His kiss awakened something buried deep inside of her that had lain dormant for most of her life. As the last of Emma's walls had crumbled down around her feet, her magic had risen to the surface of her skin, enveloping them both in a warm, supernatural glow.
Later that night, Killian had walked Emma back to her guest room at Granny's. They could hear Henry through the closed door, yelling at the television screen as his video game character met with an untimely death. Emma still wasn't sure if she'd been relieved or disappointed by the fact that Henry's presence had stopped her from inviting Killian into her room. She'd had to settle for kissing him goodnight instead – just a brief peck on the lips that nevertheless managed to bring her every nerve ending to throbbing, unfulfilled life. After she pulled away, he'd lingered on her doorstep, suddenly shy and stammering, all traces of his earlier confidence vanishing as he scratched behind his ear in that adorably awkward way of his. Emma had initially been puzzled by his behavior, but her confusion quickly cleared when she realized Killian was trying to ask her out on a date. It was completely adorable, this blushing, insecure side of him that apparently existed somewhere beneath the layers and layers of boastful, swaggering pirate. There was simply no resisting the hopeful look in his eyes, and so of course she had said yes, punctuating her assent by promptly kissing the pleased, goofy grin right off his face before finally retreating into her room.
Emma glanced at the clock on the wall. If she didn't leave soon, she would never make it to the restaurant by 8:00, and she suspected that Killian would consider it "very bad from" if she showed up late for their date. Emma couldn't stop herself from smiling at the thought. She felt like a teenager again, equal parts nervous and excited. The café where Killian had asked her to meet him was only a few blocks from Granny's. Emma was grateful for this because her beige heels – despite being quite trendy and most definitely sexy - weren't exactly comfortable for trekking long distances. As she approached the row of shops and restaurants located along the boardwalk across from the docks, she noticed that the innocuous little café on the corner had undergone an amazing transformation since she'd last seen it earlier that day. White candles and vases of long-stemmed white roses covered every flat surface in the fenced courtyard, and the trees growing along the perimeter had been strung with sets of twinkling white lights. The entire effect was dazzling. A waiter dressed in a black tuxedo met Emma at the gate.
"This way, please," he said, leading her towards the back of the courtyard where a single table had been set up. Emma could just make out Killian standing next it, his body partially hidden by the shadows cast by the overhanging trees. When he saw the waiter approaching with Emma, he stepped forward into the light, his expressive blue eyes trained on Emma's face and alight with an awe that might have embarrassed her if she hadn't been too busy staring at him to notice.
Emma couldn't stop the astonished gasp that fell from her lips as her gaze travelled over Killian's form. He was wearing a dark blue collared shirt beneath a black vest, his slim hips and strong thighs clad in a pair of black leather pants with a tailored fit that didn't leave much to imagination, and he'd traded his old-fashioned gaiters for a pair of modern black boots. True to his pirate heritage, he still wore his necklaces and rings, and he still seemed to be physically incapable of fastening the last few buttons on his shirt. Emma forced herself to shut her mouth and look at Killian's face, just in time to catch him appraising her from head-to-toe in the same way she'd just considered him. Their eyes met, emerald green locking with glacier blue, and for a moment Emma forgot that there was even a world beyond this romantic little café.
Killian took a step forward, steadily holding her gaze. He reached out to her with his right hand, his other arm crossed formally behind his back. He took her hand gently, slowly lifting it to his lips in a very old-world, chivalrous gesture. Emma simply stared at him – her handsome pirate prince – feeling almost as though she'd found herself in the middle of yet another fairytale.
"You're beautiful," he said earnestly, her lips grazing her hand. Emma could only smile in reply, flustered by his appearance and the romantic scene he'd obviously orchestrated just for her. He smiled back and brought his left arm around in front of him. Clasped in his hand was a single red rose. He held it out to her, and Emma started to take it automatically before she froze on the spot, realization dawning on her. She was only too aware of Killian's right hand holding her left one, his thumb tracing circles over the sensitive skin of her palm. That meant he had to be holding the rose in his left hand, the one he'd lost to the Dark One so many years ago. Wonderingly, Emma lifted her free hand and curled her fingers around Killian's left wrist, tears springing to her eyes at the feel of his smooth, warm, unblemished skin. He exhaled shakily, trembling slightly at her touch, and when she looked up at him she saw that his eyes were closed.
Killian thought he would be content to remain in this moment forever, his eyes drifting shut as he reveled in the sensation of Emma's fingertips ghosting over the skin of his newly healed wrist. He hadn't quite trusted that the reattached appendage would function the way it was supposed to, but judging by his body's violent reaction to her gentle caress, the nerve endings connecting it to his brain were most definitely operational. With effort, he forced himself to open his eyes and pull his arm away before guiding Emma towards the small table. She was too dumbfounded to resist, wordlessly lowering herself onto the chair he pulled out for her. Killian placed the red rose he'd been holding in the empty vase on the table before settling into his own chair. The waiter, who had been hanging back to allow them some privacy, appeared with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Emma took a long sip of champagne, the effervescent liquid reviving her from her stupor.
"Your hand," she exclaimed. "How in the world did you get it back?"
Killian smiled, reaching across the table to take both of her hands in both of his, simply because he could. Emma held onto his hands tightly, as though she, like Killian, couldn't quite believe that this was real.
"I have your lad to thank for that," he replied. Emma's eyes widened in surprise.
"Henry?" she asked. "What did he have to do with it?"
"Well," Killian began, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "It appears that the Dark One kept it as a… souvenir…for all these years. Henry found it when he was helping Belle reorganize the cabinets in the shop. He asked him to return it to me, and the Dark One actually agreed." He shrugged. "He really does seem to have changed, no doubt thanks to Belle's influence."
"I'm happy for you," Emma said sincerely. There were tears in her eyes. Killian frowned. He hadn't expected her to respond to his revelation with this much emotion.
"Emma, love, I didn't intend for my good fortune to become the focus of our rendezvous," he said lightly. "I simply wanted to surprise you."
"You did," she replied immediately. "This whole place, everything is so beautiful and perfect. And you…" She trailed off, looking down at their joined hands for a moment before shyly looking up at him from beneath her lashes. "You look very handsome."
Killian sat back, flashing his cockiest smirk. "I prefer the term 'dashing' myself," he said, quirking an eyebrow. Emma laughed.
"You forgot to add 'rapscallion,'" she teased. Killian chuckled, remembering how he'd interrupted a similar romantic dinner between her and Walsh back in New York.
"In all seriousness," he said, leaning forward again. "You, milady, are simply stunning. As much as the clothing of my realm becomes you, there are no words to adequately describe you in that dress."
Emma flushed prettily, ducking her chin towards her chest, inadvertently drawing Killian's attention to the revealing neckline of her dress. His compliment was sincere – when he had first seen her approaching with the waiter, his poor unpracticed heart had nearly pounded its way right out of his chest. Emma's gold dress hugged her curves intimately, its short hem accentuating her long, shapely legs, making them seem as though they went on for miles. The tops of her breasts peeked out over the sleeveless bodice of the dress, and Killian couldn't stop himself from staring at all that bare skin, his gaze wandering over her slender shoulders and up the column of her neck before landing once again on her face. She was staring at him, her lips parted, and Killian felt his mouth go dry. Reluctantly he untangled his right hand from her fingers and picked up his glass of champagne. His nerves were compelling him to drain its contents with one gulp, but he managed to limit himself to a gentlemanly sip. To his relief, the waiter was approaching their table with a large silver platter.
Conversation came more easily once they had food to distract them from each other, and Killian delighted in spending time with this new, less guarded version of Emma. She answered his questions about her life before Storybrooke with relative joviality, sharing stories about her work as a bail bondsperson and then reciprocating with questions of her own. They soon finished off the bottle of champagne, prompting the waiter to bring out a bottle of strong red wine. The potent beverage helped Emma relax even more, and before long she was smiling and laughing as Killian regaled her with outrageous swashbuckling tales of his adventures on the high seas. He took care not to ask her anything or reveal anything about himself that might darken the mood. He wanted this night to be perfect, and he would not allow any ominous specters from either of their histories to ruin it.
For dessert they shared a delectably rich slice of chocolate cake. Killian groaned aloud after taking a bite of it, making Emma laugh as he marveled over the confections of this realm. After the waiter cleared away their plates, Killian suggested that they go for a walk along the docks. The night had grown chilly, and he noticed Emma shivering when she stood up, rubbing at the gooseflesh appearing along her arms. Killian retrieved his new leather coat from the fence post where he'd hung it earlier and draped it over her bare shoulders, his fingers brushing against the side of her neck. She shivered again, and the heated look in her eyes told Killian in no uncertain terms that this time her quaking wasn't due to the cold. He took her right hand in his left one – he simply could not stop touching her with it – and led her down the boardwalk, heading for a row of benches adjacent to the water. To Killian's surprise and delight, when they sat down Emma immediately snuggled into his side. He put his arm around her, holding her close, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, staring out over the water.
"Henry said you showed him all the constellations and told him that sailors use them to navigate at sea. Are the stars the same in all the realms?" Emma asked sleepily, her words slurred by the wine she'd drunk and the heaviness of her own contentment. Killian nodded, humming affirmatively as he pressed his lips into her hair. He raised his hand, pointing to a familiar constellation.
"See that group of stars right there?" he said. Emma tilted her head to the side, looking up at the part of the sky he was pointing at. "That's Andromeda, the Princess. During his travels, the lonely hero Perseus discovered her bound to a rock by the ocean. He was so captivated by her beauty that he fell in love with her instantly. At first the Princess was frightened and refused to open her heart to him, but eventually she learned to trust him. His love freed her from her chains, and the two of them lived happily ever after in a grand castle by the sea."
"Is that so?" said Emma, amused, turning to face him. Killian lifted his hand to cup her cheek, tracing her jaw with his thumb.
"Aye," he said softly, capturing her lips with his. The kiss started out soft, a mere brushing of lips. Killian took his time, the fingers of his left hand tangling in Emma's golden curls as his right hand fell to her waist, stroking along her hip. Emma flattened her palms against his chest before sliding them up to his shoulders and around his neck. She pressed herself against him as best she could given the awkwardness of their position, her lips parting beneath his as she yielded to the insistent pressure of his mouth. Killian scraped his teeth over her bottom lip and she moaned softly. The sound shattered Killian's control, all thoughts of gentle and slow flying out of his head as he deepened the kiss, addicted to the taste of her. A small, coherent part of him simply could not believe that this was really happening, that she was really here…that he was touching her with both of his hands. He poured everything he had into the kiss, hoping that she would feel his emotions somehow and understand just how much this moment meant to him.
Emma should have known that it would be this way between them, everything so bruisingly tender and scorchingly passionate and in every way too much. She recognized vaguely that she was a wee bit tipsy, but it really didn't seem all that important compared to the way Killian was kissing her. Her hands roamed across the muscled expanse of his back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she struggled to find enough purchase to pull herself closer. Giving up, she unceremoniously hoisted herself on top of him, her dress riding up to her hips as she straddled him. Killian's surprised groan reverberated in her core and Emma gasped, grinding down on his lap, seeking some relief from the tension building within her. Killian shoved his jacket off her shoulders roughly, exposing more of her bare flesh to his ardent ministrations. She clung to him, burying her fingers in his thick hair as his tongue found the sensitive spot between her collarbones. She was hardly aware of the keening sound that escaped her lips, but she must've been louder than she thought because a moment later Killian lifted his head and glanced around them cautiously.
"Hold on, love," he panted, pulling back to meet her gaze. His eyes had grown dark, his pupils dilated with desire. "We're not exactly in private here. Anyone walking by can see us."
"I don't care," she whispered, lowering her lips to his once again. "Please, don't stop." The look on his face just before she kissed him – helplessly wrecked – caused Emma's heart to jump in her chest. No one had ever looked at her that way before.
Killian abandoned all pretense of caring about the outside world, his fingers tightening on her hips as he encouraged her to move against him. They both shuddered at the contact. Killian broke their kiss, his mouth trailing a hot line from the corner of her lips to the shell of her ear. Very quickly, Emma was losing herself in him, growing increasingly desperate, and she was starting to think that she might actually die if she didn't feel him inside her soon. Uncaring that any random Storybrooke resident might happen upon them, out in the open as they were, Emma lowered her hand to the waistband of Killian's pants. This wasn't exactly they way she'd imagined this happening – and she'd thought about it a lot, far more than she cared to admit – but there was no way she was stopping now.
"Emma?" Killian spoke her name into the side of her neck, his voice uncertain. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes. She kissed him, running her tongue along the seam of his lips until he parted them with a low groan.
"Shhh," Emma murmured, her fingers working on opening his button and zipper. She succeeded, and a moment later she had him in her hands. Before Killian knew what was happening, Emma shifted her position and suddenly he was inside her.
"Gods," he managed to say, his hips moving of their own volition as his brain struggled to catch up to what was happening to his body. This wasn't the way he'd wanted this to happen – he'd envisioned a comfortable bed and hours upon hours to learn every inch of her glorious body, not a hurried encounter on a hard wooden bench. But it had never been in his power to deny her, and so Killian gave in wholeheartedly, surrendering himself to the moment and to the maelstrom building between them. He fused their mouths together, the silken feeling of Emma's tongue sliding against his serving to heighten his pleasure.
It wasn't long before Killian found himself teetering on the edge. Determined to please Emma before he gave in to his own release, he reached between them to the place where they were joined, unerringly finding her center of delight with his fingers. She came a moment later, thankfully not too loudly considering they were in public, her soft cries and the feeling of her inner muscles clenching around him bringing Killian along with her. She sagged against him afterward, her forehead resting against his, their breaths mingling in the cool air.
"Oh Emma, I love you." The words were torn from his lips before Killian could stop them. Emma went still in his arms, her body going rigid. A moment later she was disentangling herself from his embrace, standing up on shaky legs as she hastily attempted to rearrange her dress. Killian leaped up, fumbling with his zipper.
"Emma – " he said, reaching for her. She deflected him, bending down to retrieve his jacket. It had fallen to the ground at some point during their tryst.
"I – I should go," she stammered, interrupting him. "It's late, and I should get home – " She trailed off, clearly panicking. She held out his jacket, pointedly avoiding his eyes.
"Keep it," Killian insisted. "It's a cold night. At least let me walk with you."
"No, I'll be fine, really." Emma dropped his jacket onto the bench and hazarded a glance at him, holding his gaze for a split second before looking away again. Killian noticed that she had matching bruises on her knees from where she'd pressed them into the bench. "I'm sorry," she continued tonelessly. "I – it's not you, it's me."
"Please, love, don't do this," he pleaded. "Talk to me."
"I will, I promise," she replied, backing away. "Tomorrow. Right now I just…need some time to think, Killian. Please don't follow me."
Killian pressed his lips together, his heart sinking as he tried not to give in to his own rising panic. He chastised himself inwardly for his lack of control – despite his best efforts, he'd still managed to ruin this perfect night. Why had he let things go so far? Why hadn't he stopped himself? Why had he blurted out that he loved her? He stared at Emma, his heart in his eyes, willing her to overcome her fears. She had to have known how he felt about her – he'd never really tried to keep it a secret. He didn't understand why saying it out loud would frighten her so much that it would send her running all over again. Suddenly Killian remembered the last thought he'd had before he'd followed Emma through Zelena's portal – maybe it was time to stop chasing her. Maybe he'd been too dogged, too hopeful. Maybe Emma really did just need some time to think and figure out what it was she really wanted.
"As you wish," he said finally, the corners of his mouth turning down solemnly.
"Thank you," Emma said, her voice small and faint. She turned her back to him and hurried away from the docks as fast as she could manage in her awkward high-heeled shoes. Killian watched the path of her flight until she was completely enveloped by the shadows of the night. When he could no longer make out her retreating form in the gathering darkness, he slowly turned back toward the bench where he'd made love to her only minutes before. Suddenly he was unable to bear the sight of it.
"Fuck!" he yelled, slamming his fists into the unforgiving wooden surface. "Stupid wanker, what the bloody hell were you thinking?" Killian punched the bench over and over again until his knuckles were scraped and throbbing. Still, the pain in his hands was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He collapsed on top of the bench, dropping his head into his hands as a sob wracked his body. He gave in to his sorrow and confusion for several moments before sitting up, his tortured gaze focusing on the moonlit ocean. With a heavy sigh, Killian reached into the pocket of his new vest and drew out his flask.
It was going to be a long night.
Emma ran straight to her room at Granny's. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned back against it, every last ounce of energy draining from her body. She could hardly believe what had just happened. She'd just had sex with Killian. He'd told her that he loved her and she'd panicked. She'd told him that she needed time to think, had asked him not to follow her, and to her surprise he'd actually listened.
Maybe he wasn't so different from the others after all.
Emma sank to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks, falling unchecked onto her ruined dress. Without bothering to get up, she reached for the bottle of rum sitting on the table next to the door. She unscrewed the cap and took a long swig.
It was going to be a long night.