A/N: For some reason this took me over a week to write, but I hope you guys like it all the same.


They're halfway through Dead Man's Chest when she finally cracks. While Killian listens, he makes a note to collect twenty dollars from David, who had thought Emma would at least make it to At World's End before she started talking about the break up. (Killian had warned David about betting against him when it came to Emma Swan, but who was he to turn down easy money? He had law school to get through after all.)

He stays quiet while Emma talks, watching as she goes from distraught to enraged as she tells him what happened. He knows it shouldn't make him feel better, seeing her as angry as she is, but this is proof that Emma will recover. It's been years since he's seen any remnants of the lost girl she had once been, and he had almost seen a trace of that girl last night, but luckily all of that seems to have gone.

"What a bloody wanker," Killian mutters when Emma finishes. It's a show of restraint that he doesn't use stronger language, the kind he learned in Irish pubs with his brother during summers spent back home.

She snorts and nods. "Yeah, a bloody wanker indeed," she agrees, a small smile tugging at her mouth at Killian's turn of phrase.

(When she had first met him, she had given him a list of things to say with his British accent. He had indulged her and gone through the entire list.)

It's easy for them to settle into a comfortable silence. Killian doesn't say much; if Emma had wanted someone to sit with her and analyze every detail of her relationship with Neal, she would have called Mary Margaret. They finish their marathon instead, Emma's head falling onto Killian's chest and his arm going around her shoulders somewhere along the way. Miraculously, they both manage to stay awake until the end credits of On Stranger Tides, with an occasional poke in the side when one of them starts to nod off.

"You busy tomorrow morning?" Emma asks, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV.

"Morning?" Killian repeats, eyebrow raising. "Morning to regular people or morning to Emma Swan?"

"Very funny," Emma says dryly.

"I certainly like to think so," Killian replies, a goofy grin manifesting on his face. "But no, I'm not busy in the morning, or whatever you mean by the word."

"Okay, good. Let's go on a run," Emma suggests.

"You, running. In the morning. When the sun is up." Killian enunciates his words carefully, cradling Emma's face and tilting her head this way and that. "Have you thought about what you're saying, Swan?"

"For Christ's sake, Killian. Yes. And stop inspecting me like that, it's weird," Emma says, frowning at him even as he continues playing with her cheeks.

"What's with the sudden change in habits, love?" Killian asks, regretting his question as soon as he utters it. He knows exactly why Emma will want to get out of her apartment Saturday morning and can't for the life of him figure out what caused him to pester her about it.

Killian drops his hands, fully expecting Emma to evade his question and withdraw back into herself. She's already been more talkative and open than usual today; he's fairly certain she's met her limit. He opens his mouth to apologize (thoroughly, and perhaps with the help of expensive chocolate), but Emma starts talking before he gets the chance.

"I'm actually a morning person, when I don't have a hangover," Emma adds as an afterthought. "But when I was with Neal, there were a lot of lazy Saturday mornings and I don't know, I thought it'd be nice to do something productive during that time for a change."

"Understood, love. No explanation necessary. Be dressed and ready to go at seven sharp," Killian says, his smile a reflection of Emma's.

At the word seven, Emma's smile disappears.

"Okay, maybe I'm not that much of a morning person," she says quickly, a slightly panicked look in her eyes that only makes Killian's smile widen. "How about eight?"

"Seven thirty," Killian acquiesces, a challenge in his tone that makes Emma sigh with resignation.

"Fine. Seven thirty."

They shake on it.


"Up and at 'em, Swan!" Killian says cheerfully, walking into Emma's kitchen and making himself a cup of coffee with the Keurig. (He will never admit it to her, but he loves the damn thing.)

"I hate you sometimes," Emma remarks, emerging from her room with her blonde curls gathered into a ponytail. "Make me some too."

"I've been around longer enough to know that you can't function without coffee, love, as much as you claim to be a morning person," Killian says. There are some things Emma doesn't have to ask for when it comes to Killian, easy friendship and coffee being among those things.

"Just so you know, it's been a while since I've gone running."

Killian takes a sip of his coffee, maintaining eye contact with Emma as he does so. His entire demeanor screams oh really? and Emma caves.

"Fine, I've only gone running once or twice," she sighs. "Let's just go."

Killian laughs and hands Emma her tumbler, his car keys already in his hand. "Way ahead of you, Swan."

He drives them to the nearby park, the one with the five mile trail and plenty of shade, because it's May in Boston and neither of them does very well with prolonged exposure to direct sunlight. He grumbles when Emma changes the radio station and she grouses at him when he insists on stopping for every pedestrian at every crosswalk. When he parks and hands Emma a full water bottle, he expects her to complain, but to his surprise she simply thanks him and makes sure her shoes are double knotted.

Somehow, Emma gets ahead of him (he will forever blame the infernal squirrel that ran out in front of him), and at first Killian feels the sting on his pride, but as they continue to run he has to thank whoever it was that created the leggings Emma is wearing.

Then he has to remind himself that it's his best friend's ass that he's admiring.

Killian shakes his head and catches up to Emma easily, passing her and shouting on your left as he goes.

She starts sprinting and looks back to stick her tongue out at him, barely avoiding tripping when faces forward again. It's a hard task for Killian to suppress his laugh, so he doesn't bother.

They race on and off, but by the end of the second mile neither of them has the energy to keep it up. They settle into an easy rhythm instead, Killian shortening his strides so that Emma can keep up with him. Emma starts to slow and Killian picks up his pace a bit, grabbing her hand and pulling her along until they finish the entire loop. He can feel her glare boring into the back of his head and just tells her that she'll thank him later.

They stop to catch their breath before heading back to the car, Emma dramatically collapsing on the grass and Killian using his water bottle to spray her in the face. She half heartedly aims a kick at his leg, her foot barely tapping his calf.

"You know, for a bail bondsperson, you would think that you'd be in better shape," Killian observes, pausing his music and wrapping up his headphones. He can hear the faint sound of an ice cream truck in the distance and counts the seconds until Emma hears it too.

(He gets to four.)

"Killian."

He laughs because he's already walking towards the ice cream truck with his wallet in hand.

"You're the best," Emma says, sitting up and grinning.

Killian taps his popsicle against hers lightly. "And don't you forget it."

They drive back to their building, Killian singing along to every song that comes on the radio and Emma pretending to cover her ears because she's too tired to properly mock him. Besides, it's kind of impressive that he knows all the words to the latest Maroon 5 song, especially since he claims that he doesn't like any of their new music.

Killian insists that Emma come up to his apartment so that she can directly tell David what happened between her and Neal, and he almost wins the argument, but then she's looking at him and her eyes are big and sad and he can't make her do it.

"You win this time, Swan," Killian grumbles, and suddenly the puppy dog eyes are gone, replaced by a devious smirk.

"I always do."

Killian drops Emma off at her apartment with a promise to be back later for taco night with David and Mary Margaret and makes his way up to his own place. He's barely on the other side of the door when the first question comes.

"So, how is she?"

David and Mary Margaret are both on the couch, looking at him expectantly, Agents of Shield marathon suspended.

"Swan's fine," he says, his answer purposefully short as he watches the couple straighten up, arms crossed against their chests.

"What happened with Neal?" David blurts out, expression turning sheepish as Mary Margaret sends him an admonishing look.

Killian gives them the run down version (they can get details from Emma herself) but it's enough to make the pair furious.

"He tried to get her involved with that scheme that landed his dad in jail?"

"Aye, that he did."

"And when she wouldn't, he attacked her for not being able to commit?" The second outburst comes from Mary Margaret, who looks more appalled than the time she had walked in on Killian and David singing karaoke whilst drunk. "That is awful."

"I'm inclined to agree," Killian says.

"I should go check on her," Mary Margaret says, already standing.

"I'll go with you," David offers. "She'd probably appreciate the company."

"And I'll go with you both because I can't imagine this confrontation going anything less than perfect," Killian sighs.

"Let me go in first," Killian says, waiting until Mary Margaret and David (reluctantly) agree before he sticks his head in the door.

"Hey," Emma says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Her blonde hair is wrapped up in a towel and Killian taps the top of it. (He had once asked her to show him how to do that but that's another story entirely.) "You've barely been gone for like twenty minutes. What's up?"

"Dave and Mary Margaret felt the need to come check on you, and I'm here to act as the buffer."

Emma wrinkles her nose and shakes out her wet hair, throwing the towel on the couch. "Guess I can't avoid them forever. Are they on the other side of the door?"

Killian nods, shooting Emma a sympathetic smile as he opens the door and Mary Margaret and David burst into the room.

They immediately wrap Emma into one giant bear hug and Killian can see her struggling to find out some way to breathe. He covers a laugh but the glare Emma sends his way means she knows exactly what he's thinking and doesn't find the situation nearly as funny as he does.

"Hi guys," Emma says, sounding more than a little breathless when their friends finally let her go. "What's up?"

"Hi sweetie," Mary Margaret says, cradling Emma's face in her hands. "Can I get you anything? Some soup? Ice cream?"

"A punching bag maybe?" David interjects, stepping back and joining Killian in the kitchen because they both know that once Mary Margaret gets into mothering mode, there's no going back.

"Mary Margaret, I broke up with Neal. I didn't find out I was dying."

The brunette's face begs to differ.

"Emma, it's okay. You can be honest. How are you really doing?"

"As I'm sure Killian told you already, I'm fine." Emma regrets her tone as soon as she finishes talking and gives Mary Margaret an apologetic smile that's more of a grimace.

"Okay honey," Mary Margaret says, pulling Emma into another hug. "Just know that I'm here for you whenever you want to talk about it."

"And I appreciate that, I do," Emma tells her, the smile on her face sincere this time. "But really, I'm okay. Hungry, but okay."

"We could probably persuade David to make you a grilled cheese," Mary Margaret says, grinning back at Emma.

"Don't tell Killian, but David makes the best grilled cheese."

Mary Margaret laughs and pulls David aside to repeat what Emma said.

Ten minutes later, all four of them are sitting at the counter eating when Killian nudges Emma's leg with his, knees and ankles knocking together.

"Alright there, Swan?"

Emma looks around at her three best friends, Mary Margaret peeling off the crusts to her sandwich and sneaking them onto David's plate, David pretending not to notice, and Killian giving her his full attention, as always, and finds that maybe her apartment isn't as empty as she'd thought. Neal may be gone but she's far from alone.

"Never better, Jones."


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