A/N: I usually don't outline my fics, but I took a couple of days and wrote out a fair amount of where this story is going to go. (And I'm excited!) I have a lot of school projects and work to do this next month and a half, which was one reason I wanted to plot out the story.

This chapter is definitely a baby bit compared to prior chapters. I tried to see if there was anything that I could add to it to flesh it out, but... I couldn't think of anything. Not for this part.

There are some exciting things coming up. Thanks for reading. Thanks for the favorites and follows and comments. This is a personal story, and it means a lot to me that you guys are supporting it!

Saturday 9:17a.m.

Another false alarm. Can you believe it?

I can believe it.

Two trips to the hospital and with no baby in sight. It's driving me crazy. You should see Liam.

It's driving YOU crazy? You're not the one who keeps having false labor pains. You should be concerned with Ruby.

It's not even her due date, Killian.

Leave it to you to be the sensible one.

It's driving Ruby crazy, I know.

Oh, look who can be all sensitive towards another person!

You're right. Again.

Although isn't it much more fun to explore someone else's sensitive sides rather than just being sensitive?

.

Emma wanted to hide the smile, to keep it all to herself. Killian wasn't there to see it, she knew, but she felt as if her finding slight humor in him shouldn't be detected in any way.

"Mom?"

The phone slipped from her fingers to the kitchen table in front of her. It wasn't like she had anything to feel guilty about. He'd surprised her. That was all.

Turning her eyes up at him, she watched as Henry walked over to the table himself. The bowl of cereal that had been in his hands was placed on the table across from her. But it was the way he was watching her. The curiosity in his eyes that made her nervous.

"Yeah?"

There was a slow smile that crossed his face. Henry shook his head as he took his seat across from her.

"You didn't even hear me, did you?"

It made Emma's eyes go on a search across the span of the room. She had noticed when he had come into the kitchen. She had noticed how he'd come in and fixed the bowl of cereal. But… if there had been something that he'd said that was directed at her…

She'd missed that.

"I'm sorry… Henry." Emma shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She should be focused on… Well, the actual point was that maybe she shouldn't be focused on…

"Who are you texting, Mom?"

The curious question came as he innocently brought a generous spoon of cereal to his mouth. Those eyes though…

For a moment, just a short moment, Emma thought about not answering her son's question truthfully. Just for a moment.

"Was that what you'd asked me earlier?" Deflection sounded a lot better than a lie.

The smile on Henry's face was distinguishable even through the chewing of the cereal.

"No," he told her slowly. "I was asking you about the arcade. Some of my friends wanted to know if I could go with them this afternoon."

Oh.

"Oh," Emma said softly. "I think that'll be okay. Sure."

Henry held his spoon halfway from the bowl and his mouth, his eyes mischievously on her.

There was a part of her that didn't even want to ask.

"So… who are you texting, Mom?"

He seemed to not have a problem with asking…

Emma picked up the mug of coffee that was off to the side of her. She threw a glance at the phone that had, instead, been in front of her.

"Um... that was Killian."

"Killian?"

The coffee mug was lifted to her lips and she took a quick sip, ignoring the smile her son had just for her.

"He was telling me that Ruby had another false labor," she explained. Because that was true.

The conversation had never left that of Ruby and the baby watch. It hadn't gotten to the way of anything personal. Well…

He hadn't mentioned that the last time that baby Jones may have been on his or her way that he had kissed her. Neither did they mention that she had eagerly returned that knee-weakening kiss with as much passion as he had.

His arms around her. Her arms around him. His scent leaving her all the more weak. The way not only his lips slid across her cheek, but the roughness of his cheek as well. No. They hadn't mentioned any of that.

This wasn't like her. She didn't…

Even after all of this time, she shouldn't have gotten this close to him. Not to the point to where she'd kissed him and then let him kiss her.

It had happened twice. And, in fact, it had happened in each instance that they had been around each other. So what did that say about her? What did that mean?

Emma felt the tug of her eyebrows coming together, the frown creasing there. The sigh was just as involuntary.

"Is that all, Mom?"

She turned her focus back on Henry at his question. The smile was gone, and it had been replaced with a frown of his own.

"What?"

Henry was slow to push the bowl of cereal away from him. His entire focus was now on her as he watched her with a closeness that was almost too much.

What was he trying to see? What was he trying to decipher by just looking at her?

"What are you doing, Henry?" she asked, bringing the mug up once again to her lips. This time she didn't take a sip. There was a bit of unease settling in the bottom of her stomach by both the way her son looked at her and the complications from this growing… thing…

"I knew that he liked you." Henry was slow to shrug. "I… just didn't know. I didn't know if you were going to like him back."

The sickness was either replaced or just overpowered by the rapid beating of her heart.

"Henry…"

"Do you like Killian?" he asked. He'd finally just came out and asked the question that she wasn't ready to hear her son ask her. And it would come with an answer that she wasn't quite ready to give.

Why? When she had admitted it to not only herself, but the man himself?

"Henry?" The mug was set back down on the table in front of her.

The frown on his face deepened. As if he was preparing himself for any answer she could have possibly given.

Emma paused, her mind coming up with too many thoughts.

It was always the two of them. For most of his life, it was mom and son. And, to be a thirteen year old boy, Henry knew his mom as well as any son could know his mom. Sometimes that meant knowing bits and pieces of a life that wasn't always happy. Sometimes that meant understanding that life could be somewhat solitary and lonely for her.

He liked Killian. Emma knew that. And…

It was becoming a jumble and a mess in her head.

"Yeah, Mom?"

She had taken too long to answer. He had begun to press.

Another sweep of her son's face. Another moment to process everything. And then…

"I… like Killian." Emma felt the instant tilt of her head as she watched him process that information.

It was with a twitch of his lips and a widening of his eyes. It was brief, because he looked back down into his bowl. The spoon was grabbed, swirling it around in the cereal.

Baited breath…

"I thought you did." Henry was quick to look up again. "That's good, Mom."

That was one way to look at it…

She saw the text come in from the corner of her eye. There was a little apprehension with knowing that Henry knew. He knew that not only did she talk to Killian, but she also actually liked him. And that…

"Don't make a big deal out of it," she muttered, her hand sliding over to grab the phone.

"Ok, Mom."

It was the huff that accompanied those words that made her look up. An all-knowing look that couldn't be so all-knowing. Not really.

"If you say so."

His words left her heart beating faster than it should have been. She wanted to blame the rapidness of her heart on that and not at Killian's simple question.

Emma?

Although she didn't know what was going to come next.

"It's kind of awesome though."

Her eyes flew up to Henry, the surprise of his confession showing on her face.

Henry stood up, his smile growing at the same time he grabbed at the bowl.

"I know: don't get too excited," he said with a roll of his eyes. And, with another spoonful on cereal going to his mouth, he moved back away from the table.

Did it make her want to run? Emma thought about that while watching his back. If he wouldn't have said the words first, then she would have. And, no, it didn't make her want to run. Not just yet…

Her eyes fell back on the phone.

.

Henry asked about you.

About us.

What did you tell your son about me? About us?

I told him that you like me. He said he already knew that.

I always knew the lad was smart.

Did he say that for real?

No.

Look at you getting my hopes and dreams up.

I told him that I liked you.

Really?

Yes.

I needed to ask you something, Emma.

What?

I want to take you out. I want to see you beyond the confines of the apartment house. Will you go on a date with me?

It was too early in the morning for the emotional rollercoaster that she was being put on. Would no one else agree to that fact? First Killian. Then Henry. And then Killian had to come back and add to it.

.

I want to see you, Emma.

Can I think about it?

So you're going to?

I'm taking into consideration that you didn't automatically turn me down. I think it's a great start.

I'll talk to you later, Emma.

Okay.

Sometimes management and designers clashed. And who was it exactly that got stuck in the middle of those arguments?

What time was it?

Each one of Emma's steps were quick and taken with a purpose. She slid her hand into her pocket to fish out her phone. At the feel of it in the palm of her hand brought with it the flash of Killian. A possible text message that she might have missed due to a busy work day had crossed her mind. And that wasn't at all what should have been there.

Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away. Pushed it way down deep because it served no purpose whatsoever.

What time was it?

Emma pulled the phone out of her pocket just as she reached the back office. And the message stopped her dead in her tracks.

It wasn't the words. Not exactly…

.

Good luck on your meeting, love! I'm looking forward to hearing all about your success.

.

The thought had pushed its way into her head, but she hadn't expected…

Why was he so attentive? Why did he seem to be one hundred percent genuine? Why couldn't she find the flaw that was going to make trusting in him and believing in him impossible? Because she knew her. She knew that running came easily and naturally. She wanted to want to run. He wasn't making it easy.

Emma had grabbed at her phone for a reason. And that reason was not Killian Jones. It didn't make those damn bluer than blue eyes stop from invading her mind. It didn't stop that cocky grin from showing up as clear as day.

Two seventeen.

It was two seventeen. And that was the point of taking out her phone. It meant that she had thirteen minutes before her meeting was to begin. And Belle…

The office door pulled open in front of her, with a hectic looking Belle stepping out.

"We have about ten minutes," she said in a rush. Pressing the form folder tightly to her chest, she offered her a smile.

"Well, we have thirteen minutes," Emma amended with a sigh.

"And absolutely no time to go over anything." The door behind her closed once she moved away from it.

"But we're fine." Good luck on your meeting, love! "We have a clear and precise plan all laid out and ready to go."

Belle hugged the file even closer to her.

"You're right. So I won't dwell on the fact that some designers, who shall remain nameless, are inherently difficult to please."

I'm looking forward to hearing all about your success.

"I think that's the best way to go about it," Emma murmured. She raised the phone again to look at the clock once more. "Okay, we're down to twelve minutes."

Belle moved then, a smile fixed pleasantly on her face.

"If you're ready then so am I," she told her, her steps just as assured as they needed to be.

"It's really… awkwardly nice… when you have someone in your corner."

The stress of the future meeting was easy to make out in Belle. But she still gave a tilt of her head in wonderment at Emma's statement, her eyes searching her face.

Was she a pessimist? She probably wouldn't have went so far as to say that before. It was just the circumstances of her life that gave her a sullen outlook. But... sometimes… Lately…

Pessimist didn't seem to fit. Anymore. And… sometimes… maybe she should have stayed a pessimist. Because…

"We're running out of time." Belle was already on the move when Emma finally decided to catch up with her. "Let's go."

Good luck on your meeting, love! I'm looking forward to hearing all about your success.

There steps, in unison, didn't seem to distract Belle as much as it did Emma. She was looking at her. She was watching her with a nosiness that she was sure that Killian would be able to appreciate.

Killian? Damn!

"It's okay. Don't worry."

Belle's frown was sudden. "What?"

"We'll knock this out," Emma told her firmly. "No need to worry."

"Oh. Yes. I'm sure we will." A slow smile reached her face. "What's gotten into you, Emma?"

The question made her give her a double-take.

"What do you mean?"

Belle was slow to shake her head. "I… don't know. There's something different about you. I can't put my finger on it though."

Emma's quick steps stayed in sync with Belle's only by the mere strength of refusing to show and outward change.

"I don't know what you mean."

A shoulder went up in a shrug as Belle turned her attention to the path in front of her.

"Whatever it is…" There was a brief moment she looked back to smile. "Keep it up. I think it works for you."

She refused to equate those words to anything in her personal life.

Nope. Not even one…

Wednesday 8:22p.m

I've been thinking.

I've been thinking, too.

Although I'm most certain that your thoughts are the safer of the two. Do share.

Should I completely ignore that to be on the safe side?

Not necessarily.

I've been thinking.

Take 2 I presume? What's been on your mind, Emma?

Your question.

Your request.

I should call you.

Should I call you?

If you plan on breaking my heart and leaving it in two, well that's better over text. It'll be easier to play it off.

Call me.

I'd like to hear your voice.

.

She answered the phone on its first ring. Nerves be damned…

"Hello." It was a slow and steady beat, her heart. Strong nevertheless.

"Hello, Emma." He had a deep and rich timbre. It was thicker. But it was a noticeable thickness. An audible hint to what he was thinking.

"How was your day?" she asked him softly.

Two words. And he already had her waiting on baited breath.

"I had a very nice and productive day," he answered smoothly. "Don't ask me about our state treasurer's misdeeds when it comes to mishandling of funds though. It's not a pretty story."

"Okay, I won't." The absurdity of the ease was overwhelming sometimes…

"How was your day?"

It made her smile. He made her smile.

"Maybe a little less productive, but a lot of ironing out of issues," she told him. "Just don't ask me about the ins and outs of working for a designer who is nervous about giving creative license to those who are not so easily controlled."

"Okay, I won't." There was a smile in his voice. Warm. Genuine. "I'll ask you something else instead."

She imagined the stroke of his thumb over his chin…

"Yes?"

There was a pause. So short. But didn't he know what that was doing to her heart?

She heard his chuckle. "You're not… teasing me, are you, Emma?"

"Teasing you?" She shook her head to herself. "I'm not teasing you."

Another pause. Another moment where he had been silent. Then…

"Emma?" It was quiet. Pensive.

"Yes?" Who knew?

"I would love the chance to get to know you outside of these walls." Strong. Firm. Truthful. Killian. Every single one of those words modified that statement. "I would love the chance to take you out. Emma. Would you do me the honor of going out on a date with me?"

Why was it even more than she'd ever expected?

She took in a deep breath, and she savored those words for just a moment longer.

"Yes." It was little more than a whisper. "I would… really like that."

"Emma Swan…" It came out on a ragged breath, deep and guttural. "What do you do to me, Emma Swan?"

She didn't have an answer to that. She didn't know the answer to that. But there was a part of her that wondered if it was the same thing that he did to her.