Chapter 9

Emma did milk it for all it was worth. Killian felt guilty about lying to her, and it seemed he really wanted to do some penance. She definitely wouldn't complain about all the great stuff he was doing for her. Foot rubs every evening, a single fresh flower waiting for her every morning with her breakfast, the bathroom hadn't been this clean since she moved in, and he was pampering her all around.

Most of the times she just enjoyed being cared for like that, but there were those brief moments were she caught him staring at her with an expression on his face that sent shivers down her spine. Despite those moments, they fell into a routine, everything seemed like it was before he told her the truth – but something was different. Something she couldn't put her finger on.

She couldn't give it much thought though, the experiments she was conducting for her thesis didn't show the results she was hoping for, and she was getting frustrated. It was the last batch of experiments she needed to round up her thesis, and she was more than ready to be done with it.

Emma just didn't have the time to think about the muddled situation with her handsome roommate.

-/-

Killian was back to relieving the pressure behind closed doors, moaning her name into the darkness when he spilled his release all over his hand and stomach. Maybe he shouldn't give her a foot rub every evening. She hadn't asked for one every night, but somehow it just happened, and it almost always ended with Emma falling asleep on his shoulder later, her hand always coming to rest on his thigh, and making him stir in his pants.

He was still trying to conjure up the courage to finally tell her how he felt about her, but whenever he was close to telling her - in those moments were they just stared at each other for a few seconds, the tension rising to an almost unbearable level – she made a joke, and the perfect moment was gone.

He was a coward. A fucking, sodding coward.

-/-

"Thank freaking God," Emma sighed, slumping down onto the couch, grinning up at Elsa as her friend put the ice cold strawberry Margarita in her hand. "Let's party."

It had been some exhausting weeks - late nights in the lab, hardly any sleep. But she finally had the results she was looking for, and that was enough reason to have an impromptu celebration.

When Killian came home two hours later Emma was definitely more than tipsy, and she ignored his surprised yelp when she grabbed his arm and hauled him into the living room without even letting him change into more comfortable clothes.

"Come on, Jones. Dance with me."

-/-

It was pure torture. To be so close to her, to feel her body sway against him, feel her leaning into him for support when she slurped on her cocktail, her eyes shining with happiness, slightly hooded due to the alcohol.

Killian had finally managed to slip into his room to cool off a little, and get a grip on himself again. He was hard as a rock since Emma had swayed her ass back and forth over his midsection, and he'd retreated hastily before she and everyone else in the room could see the clear evidence of his arousal.

It couldn't go on like this any longer; he needed to tell her. Before he would lose all common sense, and go all cave man on her.

When he came back to the living room Emma was nowhere to be found, and he already started to worry, when he suddenly thought of her favorite part of the building.

Like he hoped Killian found her up on the rooftop, and she gave him a sloppy smile when he sat down beside her, his heart almost leaping out of his throat as she leaned against him, her hair tickling his chin, his body going rigid as she grabbed his arm and lifted it over her shoulder, her arms slipping around his waist to get even closer to him.

"Why can't all men be like you, Killian?" she sighed against his skin, and he wondered if she could hear his heart hammering like a sledgehammer in his chest.

Stay cool, Jones. Stay cool.

"Because the female part of the population wouldn't survive more than one me?"

She smacked her hand against his stomach, her voice slightly slurred as she mumbled, "You're so full of yourself."

Silence fell over them, and he tightened his hand around her shoulder, closing his eyes for a second, reveling in the feeling of having her in his arms like that. It didn't happen often that she let her guard down like that. Most of the times she only touched him in teasing, and not full body contact like this.

"What kind of foolish woman let you get away?" He started upon hearing the question; he'd assumed Emma might have fallen asleep in his arms, but apparently she didn't. Leaning back, her hand drifted up to his face, her fingers ghosting over his scruff as she stared up at him with sleepy eyes. She was clearly inebriated, but his heart still skipped a beat when her fingers skimmed over his lips. "Foolish, foolish woman."

He hadn't told her much about Milah, almost nothing. Because it was in the past, and he wanted it to stay in the past.

"Not everyone appreciates the kind of man I am," he said softly as she snuggled back into him. "A lot of women only want me for my body, and then there are those who take advantage of the fact that I have a too soft heart when it comes to women."

"Like I said they are all fools. Though it can't be denied that you have a gorgeous body," Emma breathed, her hand trailing up his arm, and down over his chest, coming to rest against his abs. "But what's inside is way more gorgeous."

He couldn't speak, was too stunned to say anything at all, telling himself over and over again that she was drunk and didn't know what she was saying.

He almost chuckled when he felt her slacken against him. She'd fallen asleep, and he shifted carefully until he was able to scoop her up in his arms and carry her down to their apartment. The others had all left already, the apartment was silent when he entered, and he walked slowly to Emma's bedroom, lying her down gently on the mattress, reaching down to slip the shoes of her feet and pull the sheet over her body, keeping himself from leaning down to brush a kiss on her forehead. Instead he just trailed his fingers over her hair before he walked out of the room.

"Killian?" Her voice drifted towards him, and he turned around, hardly making her out in the darkness.

"Aye?"

"Just so you know … I love you. Every part of you."

He was rooted to the spot, his fingers clinging to the door handle. What should he answer? What could he answer? But before he could make up his mind he could hear a soft snore from the bed, and his mouth tilted up into a smile.

She probably wouldn't remember what she said tomorrow. She probably didn't mean it in a romantic way anyhow.

-/-

Emma woke up with a splitting headache, thankful for the glass of water and aspirin she found on her nightstand. She even managed a shaky smile when she thought about her perfect roommate, the smile dropping off her face when memories of the last night came back to her.

"Oh God, I did not tell him that I love him."

She would never drink one drop of alcohol ever again.

Emma contemplated if she could stay in her room until Killian was gone, but then she remembered that it was Saturday, and he didn't have to go to work. With a groan she climbed out of the bed and changed clothes. After a short trip to the bathroom she walked into the kitchen, trying to avoid direct eye contact as she slipped on the bar stool.

"Morning," she mumbled, putting her head into her hand because it was way too heavy to stay on her shoulders otherwise.

"Morning, love."

He was way too upbeat for her taste, and she threw him a look out of the corner of her eye as he shuffled through the kitchen.

"Did I do something embarrassing yesterday? The last hours are kind of a blur," Emma asked, deciding it was time to face the music. She cringed slightly when Killian turned around with a huge grin on his face. Letting out a groan, she waved her hand to indicate he should give it to her. "Just tell me, Jones. I can take it."

"Nothing too embarrassing, Swan," he replied, the smirk still on his face as he added, "Just some cute rambling on the rooftop before you conked out, and I had to carry you down."

So she didn't tell him she loved him after all. He would mention it if she did, wouldn't he?

"Thanks for bringing me to bed, and for the aspirin," she murmured, averting her gaze down to the counter.

"You're very welcome." A plate appeared in front of her. "Here … eat this. It will help with the hangover."

As she stared down at the plate she asked herself if it was a good thing that she apparently didn't tell him she loved him, or if it wouldn't have been better if she actually had.

Because then the secret would be finally in the open, and she could stop pretending that she had nothing more than brotherly feelings for him.

-/-

Killian was halfway through repainting the walls in Emma's bedroom when he heard her clear her throat, and he gritted his teeth, awaiting the inevitable.

"Maybe we should paint it in a brighter yellow. I think this shade is too dark."

He let out a huge sigh, tilting his head to stare down at her from the ladder, paint dripping down from the paint roller onto the newspaper covering the floor. She was smiling up at him, clearly trying to coax him into painting the room fresh for the third time. Killian was a very patient man, but even he had his limits.

Lifting the paint roller, he started painting again, determined to paint the room in the darker shade of yellow she'd wanted only three hours ago, grumbling more to himself than to her, "If I didn't love you so much, I'd be strangling you right now."

He didn't even realize what he said until he saw her stiffen out of the corner of his eye, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage as he cursed silently. That was not the way he wanted to tell her.

"What did you just say?" she croaked, her eyes huge when he turned around to look at her.

For a split second he contemplated to lie to her, to put it off as a joke. But then he remembered her drunken confession a week ago, and just threw caution to the wind.

Either she really did feel the same way, or she didn't. It was time to find out.