What the hell was that?
The question had been on repeat in Emma's mind since the incident in his kitchen earlier that evening. After leaving Killian high and dry, the blonde raced back to her apartment, quickly scattering her baking ingredients and utensils across the kitchen counter upon arrival. (If she kept this up with Killian Jones, Emma was going to be seriously concerned for her health – someone had to eat everything she baked when upset).
Taking the beater in her shaky hands, Emma threw the ingredients in the bowl, not taking the time to properly measure before mixing them furiously, the knot in her chest tightening with each stir.
What had she been thinking?
Why had she come on to him like she did in college? She had changed, he had changed. There was absolutely no explanation for her behavior. Feeling the tears prick her eyes, the anger boiling up inside over her stupidity (and he had eaten every moment of it up, taking it all in and never backing down, pushing her to her limits like he always did), Emma threw down the beater and shoved the bowl across the island, it unceremoniously falling to the floor with a thud.
Her head made contact with the cool counter, her fist clenching tighter as she banged it upon the surface, a choked sob escaping her raw throat.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
With every word whispered, her head repeatedly met the counter, not enough to hurt – just enough to dull the pain inside.
"Love, if you keep doing that there could be serious brain damage."
Emma swore her heart stopped at the sound of his voice, the lilt of it practically bouncing off the walls of her tiny abode. Her head shot up quickly, eyes going wide, wincing a bit when the pain rushed to her head. When her eyes landed on him though (eyes full of concern, tongue poked into his cheek), the pain spread, sending an ache that settled roughly beneath her breastbone.
"You," she growled, quickly wiping away the stray tear from her cheek before weaving her way around the counter, finger pointed out to him in defiance. "What the hell are you doing here? How do you know where I live? How did you even get inside my apartment?"
Killian held both hands up in surrender as she rambled in anger. "Swan, if you would just let me explain –"
"Did you follow me here?" the blonde interrupted, finally making her way to stand in front of him as she continued her rant, hands placed firmly on her narrow hips. "Are you seriously going to stalk me now?"
"Would you just bloody listen?" Killian raised his voice, taking another step towards her, his mouth turning down into a frown. Seeing her surprise at his outburst, she grew quiet, and he scratched behind his ear nervously (his eyes avoiding hers, voice dripping with truth and sincerity as he kept his head downcast). "I was worried about you."
Her jaw was set tight and she practiced the clenching and unclenching of her fist to the rhythm of her steadily pounding heart. Knowing he was too close for comfort, she took a step back, speaking harshly before dipping down to pick up the bowl she had thrown earlier. "Thanks but I don't need your pity or concern. You can exit the same way you entered."
"Swan – " He took a step forward, hand outstretching. His voice stopped short when he felt her icy glare piercing his skin. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Killian shrugged, voice barely above a whisper. "Can we just talk about this?"
"What's there to talk about?" she fired back, scurrying around the kitchen to begin cleaning up her mess. Emma could practically feel his gaze following her as she moved about the room.
"You always bake when you're upset." His voice was honest, and Emma felt the words twisting inside her heart like a knife. (He always did know her so well, and maybe that's the part that scared her most of all). Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see him lean against the counter, arms going across his chest leisurely. "What was that back there?"
Emma huffed, picking up the rag nearby to scrub the counter, giving a grunt with each push as she continued to avoid his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh come on, lass. Are you daft? You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Throwing the dishtowel down angrily, Emma pressed her lips together in a thin line, moving around the counter to stand in front of him (and even though she was practically fuming, their height difference made her feel tiny in comparison to him). She pointed her finger out towards him, poking him in the chest defiantly with the raise of her voice. "Don't pretend like you know me, Killian Jones. You know absolutely nothing about me."
"Well perhaps I'm trying," he countered, throwing his arms up in frustration. With a sigh, Killian ran his fingers through his messy dark locks, the silence enveloping them uncomfortably. "Maybe I just wanted to start things over between us."
Emma rolled her eyes, giving a quiet scoff, muttering under her breath as she avoided his gaze. "Not likely after everything you put me through in college. The damage has already been done."
The jolt of Killian's sarcastic laugh reverberated around the room, causing Emma to bite down hard on her bottom lip (the tears still threatening from earlier, each word he spoke seemingly closing her throat further as she tried her best to breathe).
"You left me, Emma. Without any explanation, just a pathetic goodbye and then I didn't hear from you for ten years." He paused, taking one last step towards her and putting his hand on her forearm, before lowering his voice. "What happened that you're not telling me?"
She flinched at his touch, pulling her arm close to her side (she just wanted to crawl into herself, curl into a ball like she did when she was five and pretend all of it never happened). "Forget it, Killian."
"Please, love. I just want to know what's troubling you."
Her heart squeezed at his words (he always did have a way with it), but Emma knew that it was going to take more that pretty words to heal the wounds he had given her. She couldn't do this (not now, not with him). Knowing she needed to put some distance between them immediately, she took a step back, keeping her eyes focused on the floor beneath her bare feet. "I'll see you Friday at your restaurant for the review. Noon. Be prepared."
Emma could practically see him battling internally at the words, at the decision she had made for him (there never was – or will be - an 'us'). His jaw clenched and he gave a sharp nod of his head, his face sullen as he backed away towards the door. "Fine. But don't say I didn't try."
It wasn't until she heard the door click behind him that she let it go, her head falling back down to the counter with a thud as she couldn't help the grumble under her breath.
"You're a little too late for that."
The quietness of the hallway outside Emma's apartment did nothing to soothe Killian's ache, the anger inside of him gently subsiding to worry (and partial frustration). There was no doubt that she was holding something back, something huge, something that had apparently caused ten years of anguish and hurt.
He couldn't help but feel responsible for the flecks of sadness in her emerald eyes. Over the course of their partnership (it never technically was a friendship), he had pushed her more than she deserved. But she always pushed right back. He knew she could always take it.
"Killian?" A soft feminine voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he glanced up to meet the brunette's confused expression; a slow smile spread across her face as she held out her hand to him. "Hi, you probably don't remember me. I'm –"
"Ruby," he acknowledged, accepting her hand with a firm shake. "I remember, lass."
She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes turning towards him in question. "What are you doing here?"
Killian sighed, glancing towards their apartment door, responding with a disgruntled shrug. "Seems Emma and I got into a little spat. Nothing new."
"What happened this time?" Ruby teasingly inquired, folding her arms across her chest.
"It doesn't matter." He paused for his eyes to meet hers, and Ruby's face softened seeing the distress written in his features. "I don't think that's what is bothering her anyways."
"Oh." The brunette grew quiet, drawing her bottom lip nervously into her mouth, her grip on her purse growing tighter.
Killian studied her sudden change of demeanor, exhaling loudly as he took a step closer. "You know something don't you?"
She winced, knowing it was not her place to speak on the matter. "Killian…"
"Please, Ruby," he quickly interrupted, trying his best not to raise his voice in the tiny hall (knowing that the source of his confusion was only behind the door beside him). "I just want to help her."
"And you are the only one who can. But it is all up to her. It has to be in her own time."
In irritation, Killian shook his head, hands finding his own messy hair with a tug. He couldn't help but to take a step back, pacing the floor in confusion. "She's had ten years!"
Ruby sighed, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for putting her in this position (she was Emma's best friend after all). Glancing towards the door, she lowered her voice. "Just be patient with her. You don't know what she's been through."
"I'm trying." Any other time Killian would have been embarrassed by the pure heartache in his voice – tender and soft. But now, he didn't care. All he wanted was Emma's happiness (to heal her scars, mend the wounds that he had somehow created, bring joy into her life once again).
"I know you are. Despite what she may think, you are a good man, Killian Jones."
He could feel it blossoming from his heart, spreading outwards, coursing through his veins and making it all the way down to his toes – hope. Just a few simple words made his heart flutter (after all, if the girl's best friend is on your side, it definitely makes things easier). Killian chuckled softly, taking the moment to raise an eyebrow up at Ruby. "Put in a good word for me?"
And for the first time, she smiled back (confirmation that things could still work out, that a happy ending might not be as far-fetched as it seemed). With her hand on the doorknob, Ruby peered back over her shoulder at him, nodding her head in approval. "Believe me, I'm already on it."
Ten Years Earlier
She honestly didn't know what she had gotten herself into.
College is fun, they said. You won't be able to get a job without a degree, they said.
What they failed to mention was that she would end up having to be a partner with her worst enemy.
The study session, if it could even be labeled that, was a complete disaster. Emma honestly had no idea how things had escaladed so quickly. One minute she was opening her book to study, and the next all she wanted to do was kiss that smug little grin right off his face.
She wasn't going to deny it – Killian Jones was an attractive man. But this was the first moment where she had let her guard down around him. Somehow, for a brief second, Killian was able to break through her walls. She had felt vulnerable and strange and, if the butterflies in her stomach were any indication, very much turned on by him. (Although she quickly shoved those thoughts out of her head. A friends with benefits situation with him would never end well).
What Emma really needed was time (time to sort out her feelings and true intentions for him – time for him to figure things out as well). But with finals quickly approaching, there wasn't a spare moment to lose. They had to press forward, however awkward the situation might become.
The pair had arranged to utilize the school kitchen to work on their final piece – a three-course meal (starter, entrée, dessert) consisting of a side salad, filet minon with a side of mashed potatoes, and a creamy red velvet cake for dessert.
Emma breathed in deeply, palms flat against the swinging door of the culinary kitchen, allowing the air to fill her lungs before she slowly exhaled. The sooner she entered, the sooner she could get it over with. A surge of courage coursing through her veins, Emma roughly pushed on the door, allowing it to swing up in front of her to enter the room.
He was already there (of course, she was always the one that was late), leaning against the counter staring at his watch, apron already tied neatly around his body. Upon her quiet entrance, Emma couldn't help but let her gaze linger over his form – toned arms flexing as he tightened the apron across his lower back, dark hair tussled in the "I just rolled out of bed after having amazing sex" look. She felt the heat rush straight to her core, a slight blush creeping up her face at the very thought.
"Well it's about bloody time," Killian exclaimed, pushing off of the counter to saunter over towards her, the grin on his face growing bigger by the second. (Seeing his hips thrust forward like that did something to Emma, internally growling at herself for the unwelcomed thoughts).
"Let's just get this over with." She rolled her eyes, walking right past him and hoping that he didn't notice her nervousness. Normally she would be dreading to spend even one second alone with Killian (and in a sense, she still was), but not for the reasons she used to. Being alone with him used to be pure torture (solely because of who he was and the frustrations that he had caused her), but now being alone with him spurred dangerous thoughts – thoughts of moans and sweat and skin warm against each other, sparking something deep beneath the surface.
Swallowing thickly, Emma grabbed the apron from the rack, pulling it around her thin form and attempting to tie it correctly, fumbling from the shaking of her hands. Letting out a groan in frustration – really, how hard was it to tie a freaking bow? – Emma dropped the strings from behind, instead running a hand through her blonde hair.
She could feel him approach her from behind, his breath hot on her neck. Warm hands met her shoulder and Emma couldn't help the way her breath hitched with the contact, a shiver running up her spine and heat rushing to her core.
"Let me," he whispered, lips close to her ear as his hand left her shoulder, trailing down her back towards her hips. His hands lingered there for a moment tracing her curves and relishing in the feel of her beneath his fingertips. Emma allowed her eyes to flutter shut, taking a second to just forget everything – forget that it was him, them, and that this could all go terribly wrong.
Killian grabbed the strings, slowly tying the knot into a beautiful bow before giving it a gently tug.
"There. All set."
Emma turned her head towards him, her chin resting on her shoulder and eyes opening to meet his. "Thanks."
(She mentally cursed herself for the breathiness of her voice, hoarse and raspy – what was this effect that he had over her?)
He simply smiled, face lighting up in her presence. Knowing that if he stared at her any longer the situation would only grow more awkward, Killian cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from hers. He took a step back, pointing towards the ingredients on the counter. "Why don't I start on the potatoes and you can work on the dessert? I know it's your favorite."
What the hell was going on and who was this guy? Emma clenched her teeth tightly in order to keep her jaw from dropping. Killian never cared about her like this before – and how did he even know that baking was her forte?
She forced a weak smile towards him, her body stiff and rigid in confusion. The air between them was thick and awkward and the stirring of ingredients the only sound filling the room. Occasionally, Emma threw a quick glance his way, only to find him already staring back at her. His face grew red in embarrassment at being caught (and this honestly felt like some sort of parallel universe – Killian being nice and checking her out? Helping her out like he actually cared?)
They worked in silence, him mashing the potatoes and her stirring the cake batter, the bag of flour sitting on the counter near her elbow. The occasional glances were only causing the tension in the room to grow and Emma could feel him inching closer towards her as the seconds ticked on in silence.
He gave a soft chuckle, breaking the awkward tension in the room. She turned towards him in question, raising an eyebrow at him. With a smile, he pointed towards her cheek. "Lass, you've got a little something right there."
"Where?" Emma questioned, wiping her hands across her cheek, "Here?"
"No," Killian confirmed, dipping his hand into the bag of flour and running his fingers across her face, streaking the white matter onto her skin, "Right here!"
"Killian Jones!" she scolded, trying her best to suppress a laugh. Emma watched him, hands clutching his own sides in laughter. She had never seen him this happy before and, squinting her eyes down at him, Emma smirked back in defiance. "You're going to pay for that!"
"Oh I intend to," Killian promised as her hand met his face, flour pasted against his cheeks before she ran her fingers through his dark hair, mixing the ingredients in his locks (nails scrapping against his scalp and the simple gesture sparked something that neither had intended).
Devious grin plaster on his face, Killian reached his hands into the mashed potatoes, throwing them in her direction with a splat against her face. Emma gave a yelp in surprise as the mush hit her, only spurring her on more as she advanced towards him.
Shrieks of laughter filled the kitchen, both Killian and Emma reaching for whatever food they could to throw at each other. She gave a snort when the potatoes met his mouth instead of his chest, causing him to spit the substance everywhere.
Shaking the potatoes off of his face, Killian reached for the spray nozzle of the sink, pulling it out and pointing it towards the blonde. Emma gasped when the cold water met her skin, drenching her hair and cream-colored shirt, the top sticking to her skin and doing nothing to hide what was beneath.
"Killian! This was a brand new shirt!" Emma gaped at him, trying her best to wring out the water from her top. And she didn't know how he did it but by the time she looked back in his direction, he had already made his way across the room towards her. Her breathing seemed to slow down (and her heart sped up) seeing him tower over her, eyes never leaving her.
"And I must say, love, it looks absolutely glorious clinging to your body like that."
The heat rushed to her cheeks as she ducked her head, trying her best to avoid his gaze. Warm fingers met her wet chin as he lifted her head up to look at him. Her stomach clenched in anticipation when his nose bumped against hers.
She hesitated for a second, starting to pull back until his arm wrapped around her waist, causing their hips to collide and a jolt of pleasure shoot through Emma's body – they were a perfect fit (and that's when she knew she was done for). With his forehead pressed firmly against hers, lips only a mere breath apart, Killian spoke softly. "Don't think. Just feel."
His lips met hers softly at first – tender (but god, Emma felt like she was on fire, sparks shooting throughout her body, toes curling in satisfaction). She met him head on, pushing and pulling just as much as he was, her hands working their way around his neck and into his hair. Years of pent up sexual tension met in their first kiss, and all rational thought left Emma's mind when his hands met the underside of her breast beneath her soaked shirt, stroking the flesh there.
She groaned in response, her mouth opening up just enough for his tongue to enter, savoring and tasting her in delight. And what started as slow and tender, soon turned into something more. Tongues met and Emma moaned, a sharp gasp escaping when the cool stainless steel of the counter met her back.
Never breaking the kiss, Killian's hands met the underside of her thighs, easily lifting her up onto the counter. She pulled him closer, his hands on her knees urging her to spread her legs wider for him (and he had absolutely no idea how wet she already was for him).
Emma bit back a groan against his lips as he stepped between her open legs, their hips meeting perfectly before she wrapped her legs around him.
"God, Emma," he murmured between kisses, his hand beneath her shirt pulling down her bra to roll her rosy nipple between his fingers (instantly hardening and coming to a peak to his touch). "You're so beautiful."
Startled, Emma pulled back, his lips chasing hers in an attempt to continue. The room was silent, the air humming, filled with nothing but the heavy breathing of the pair. Guilt immediately began to set in (she had just made out with Killian Jones – her worst enemy. She hated this man more than anything in the world. So if that was the case, why did she enjoy this too much?)
His forehead still pressed against hers, Emma loosened the grip of her arms around his neck, moving to place her palms flat across his chest and give a gentle shove. "I should go."
"You don't have to." And then Emma made the mistake of looking up, her eyes meeting his (too blue, too much - filled with something that made her heart ache beneath her breastbone). He gave a small smile, reaching up to cup her cheek. "We didn't finish cooking and the place is a bloody mess."
Emma bit down on her bottom lip. Hard. She couldn't do this, the emotions all too much and everything felt like it was finally boiling over (and she couldn't handle it. Too much.)
"I don't want you to go."
His hushed words sent a shock throughout her still heaving body and she could already taste the cooper-like quality of the blood from her bitten lip. He was sincere, not an ounce of dishonesty in his voice (and Emma swore she could feel the room closing in on her).
Shaking her head roughly, Emma lifted herself off of the countertop, his hands still resting on her hips to help her down. Turning towards Killian one last time, she untied the apron and placed it in his hands. "Right now, I just need some time."
He gripped the fabric tightly in his hands (the pained expression on his face a dagger to her heart), and nodded slowly, grimacing as she was walked away from him once more. "As you wish."