A/N: Sorry for the delay, currently on a family vacation and my computer and I don't get a lot of alone time.
"What a banner day," Emma grumbles, kicking off her boots and flinging herself face first onto her couch. Her favorite leather jacket is ruined, she's sure there are more than a couple of scrapes on her arms and legs, and she's on her period. Not a particularly great combination for a Monday night.
Her phone vibrates on the cushion next to her and she sighs, because she doesn't know if she's capable of any more human interaction for the day. (The perp she had tracked down had been anything but charming.)
Did you catch your guy?
The text is from Killian, which is the only reason Emma musters up the energy to reply, knowing he'll worry if she doesn't.
Yep.
She adds a sighing emoji at the end and turns her phone on do not disturb mode. She gets up long enough to change into a shirt from high school that skims her thighs and take off her jeans and bra before collapsing onto the couch again.
Emma's on the cusp of falling asleep when she hears her door open and a muttered shit as keys drop onto the floor.
"Killian?"
"I figured you wouldn't have eaten and took the liberty of ordering pizza." He walks around to set the pizza down on the coffee table and Emma finally gets a good look at him. Killian's in a white t-shirt and blue striped pajama pants, his hair and clothes rumpled. Emma figures that he most likely stayed awake waiting for her to get home and the thought makes her smile, because him, David, and her adopted mother Ruth are the only ones to have ever done that for her.
He offers her a slice of pepperoni pizza and she takes it, scooching over so that he can sit down next to her. She eats half the pizza by herself (a stakeout doesn't always leave much time for food), pointedly ignoring Killian's amused expression.
"Rough day, Swan?"
Emma snorts. "That's an understatement. I feel like shit."
Killian's brow furrows and he presses a hand against her forehead. "You're not catching a cold, are you?"
She doesn't answer, simply looks at him and waits for him to catch on. It takes him a few minutes, and Emma can see when he makes the realization because his eyes widen and his mouth twitches into a sympathetic grimace.
"Ah. I see," Killian says, standing up to put the pizza in the fridge.
Emma lets her head fall back onto the armrest of the couch, arm flung over her eyes to block out the light. "Yeah. The scumbag decided to run and in the process of tackling him, I ruined one of my jackets and a pair of my jeans, and got cramps afterward." She's not usually one to complain, but she's having an awful day and Killian always tells her it's bad to keep everything bottled up.
She smells the hot chocolate before she sees it, reaching out to take it from Killian with a tired smile. There's a glass of water and some painkillers to go with it, and she's so overwhelmed with the feeling of someone taking care of her that she starts tearing up.
(She blames the hormones.)
Killian, bless him, doesn't acknowledge the fact that she's crying, other than wrapping a blanket around her and tugging on a lock of her hair. This happens every time she has a cold or is on her period, but Killian knows better than to talk to her about it.
"You've had quite the day, Swan," Killian says, lifting her feet so that he can sit down.
Her laugh is the watery kind and she presses the palms of her hands to her eyes to prevent the tears from sliding down her cheeks. "Indeed I have."
It's stupid, Emma thinks, to feel so sentimental about a leather jacket, but that had been the first significant thing she purchased with her own money and it lasted her since she was eighteen. It was tangible armor, something that made her feel strong, capable to do anything and everything.
Now it's gone.
Her pitiful sniffle is drowned out by the opening credits of The Princess Bride, but that doesn't stop Killian from giving her calf a comforting squeeze. Emma swings her legs around, her feet coming to hang off the armrest and her head resting on Killian's chest. She will never say it aloud, but this is her favorite way to watch movies.
Emma's terrible day is soon forgotten as they compete to see who can remember the most lines from the movie, her punching his arm when he wins and him tweaking her nose when she does.
She is so, so grateful to have a best friend like Killian in her life.
"You're not such bad company yourself," Killian says, and Emma is grateful for the darkness of her living room as she flushes bright red.
She can make out Killian's grin in the light from the TV and sheepishly smiles back.
"Is that my shirt?" Killian asks, eyebrow raised as he pulls on her sleeve. "The one I let you borrow what, before we even graduated?"
Emma hums in confirmation, her small smile growing into a cheeky one the longer Killian stares at her in indignation.
"Are you ever going to give it back?"
"No," she says, turning her attention back to the movie.
She hears him mumbling something about a bloody stubborn lass and smacks him in the face with a pillow, her eyes never leaving the TV.
Emma just knows she's going to be late to game night. It's Killian's fault, really, because she let him borrow her phone charger and now she can't find the infernal thing anywhere. She can't borrow one from David or Mary Margaret - stupid Samsung users - and if Killian had his, he wouldn't need to use hers all the time. Normally she'd have given up the search after the first couple minutes, but her phone is at two percent and she's waiting for a followup from a lead, which is why she's running around her apartment with one shoe on and the other in her hand with her phone.
She tears her room apart because while she doesn't have the same incessant need to be early that Mary Margaret does, it's kind of embarrassing to be the last one to game night when you only have to travel a flight of stairs to get there.
In her haste, Emma pulls open the drawer of her nightstand with more force than usual, and leaps back in surprise when the entire thing comes flying out, along with her charger.
Her nightstand is ruined, but at least she has her charger.
A quick glance at her phone - one percent now, Jesus - lets her know that she barely has a minute to spare before she's supposed to be at Killian's apartment, so she doesn't spare much time looking at her useless piece of furniture, pausing only to lock up her apartment as she leaves.
When Killian lets himself into his apartment, Milah right behind him, he has to take a step back to avoid being backhanded.
Emma's talking to Mary Margaret animatedly, hands flying as she retells a story of a flying nightstand drawer, if he's hearing correctly. She doesn't know he's here yet (although she should, because the hinges on the door creak obscenely loudly) and he uses that to his advantage, wrapping her in a bear hug and effectively pinning her arms to her sides.
Milah laughs from over his shoulder, kissing his cheek as she joins David in setting up Clue. Their relationship has improved phenomenally since their talk all those weeks ago, with Killian making more of an effort to integrate Milah into their friend group and Milah trying harder to create her own memories and inside jokes with them.
It's new and difficult, being in a serious relationship, but Killian finds that it's the kind of challenge he likes.
Emma's elbow connects with his rib and Killian takes that as his cue to let go, hip checking her and giving Mary Margaret an affectionate peck on the cheek.
"Evening, ladies. What's the cause of all this waving about?"
"My goddamn nightstand broke," Emma sighs, pursing her mouth and folding her arms across her chest. She looks so much like a pouty child that Killian is tempted to resolve her problems with an ice cream cone (which, to be fair, is sometimes the solution for one of her bad days).
"Tough luck, Swan. Making a trip to IKEA tomorrow?" Killian asks. He has a lunch date with Milah planned, but he can join Emma for furniture hunting after.
"No, I was thinking I'd go to this new place by the office during my lunch break," Emma says. "They're having this grand opening sale that I thought I'd take advantage of."
"Perhaps Leroy can assist you during the selection process," Killian suggests, unable to keep a straight face as he does so. Emma's co-worker Leroy is notorious for his bad taste in, well, everything, and the mere thought of him in a furniture store is terrifying.
Emma snorts and shakes her head, not deigning his comment with a response. Killian bumps his shoulder against hers repeatedly as they make their way to the couch, laughing a little too loudly when she almost trips attempting to retaliate and he has to catch her.
When Emma first walks up to the store, she has to double check to make sure it's open. It's mostly empty, save for a few employees wandering around. Several of them walk up to her, all too eager to help the only customer in the store. She mutters just browsing five times, because stumbling around trying to find what she's looking for is better than having an employee tell her that this nightstand is made out of authentic bamboo imported from a tiny mountain village in China and that the price is a steal for the actual value.
By the time Emma finds a nightstand that she wouldn't mind having in her bedroom indefinitely, her patience is wearing thin and all she can think about is a grilled cheese from Granny's. She probably should have grabbed something to eat before her trip to Sofa So Good (cute, although she hasn't seen a sofa yet) but it's too late now and at least she's found what she was looking for.
The slightly clumsy cashier has just started ringing her up when someone in a suit - the owner, Emma guesses - offers to take care of this particular purchase.
Emma's first reaction is to roll her eyes, but the man doesn't seem creepy. He has kind, honest eyes, and his grin is infectious.
He introduces himself as Walsh and cuts straight to the chase, asking if she wants to have coffee sometime in the foreseeable future. Emma is tempted to say no, but when she tries to figure out what's holding her back, she can't. Walsh is nice, funny, and just the right side of flirtatious. There's a confidence about him that she likes, one that's apparent but not arrogant. He laughs at all of her wry comments and seems to appreciate her sarcasm, so she accepts his offer and his phone number.
She's always been a sucker for well dressed guys.
Walsh helps her get the nightstand into her Bug and the smile he gives her as they say goodbye may or may not induce butterflies in her stomach.
It's been a long time since that's happened, and Emma likes the feeling.
She wants to tell someone about Walsh, and it makes sense for that someone to be her best friend, but for some reason Emma can't bring herself to pick up her phone and call Killian. She's not sure if things will work out between her and Walsh, and she doesn't want to get anyone's hopes up.
That's what she tells herself, anyway.
Emma's never kept a secret from Killian before, not really, so not telling him about her date with Walsh has her overcome with guilt. It only gets worse when she gets back to her office and finds that Killian's stopped by and dropped off a grilled cheese (with onion rings).
There's a neon yellow post-it stuck to the brown paper bag and a ridiculous cartoon drawing of a tombstone that reads Here lies Emma's old nightstand. Cause of death: the frantic search for a phone charger. R.I.P. There's an odd assembly of grapes, apples, and pears sketched towards the bottom, and below that, more of Killian's neat handwriting.
Hope your search was fruitful Swan.
If Emma grins a little too wide and her butterflies make a sudden reappearance, no one needs to know.
Review?