A/N: I promise that Captain Swan is endgame, folks. All good things to those who wait.
A month passes, and while Emma and Killian try their best to go back to the way their friendship was before, there's something fundamentally different. There has never been a time when the two of them were both in healthy, stable relationships (Killian's love life mostly consisting of one night stands, and Emma's consisting of, well, Neal), and it's strange. Neither of them know how to manage it, not really, and it's hard to fit both a best friend and a significant other in with work and school, especially when the best friend and significant other in question aren't very fond of each other. They're trying, though, and hopefully that counts for something.
While the rest of their friends are eager to see Walsh again, Emma keeps him separate from their group, for the most part. Not because she doesn't love her friends and is against them getting to know Walsh, but because having to be careful around Killian is too damn difficult, where their friendship has alway been easy. Emma's used to running when things get hard, and it's taking every bit of her willpower to find a way to fight through this rough transition.
Work is a good distraction, and when the scumbag she's tailing gives her a fight, she almost relishes in it. She goes through the routine of handing the perp over to the police and filling out the regular paperwork before heading home, riding on the high of adrenaline. Emma feels good for the first time since Killian met Milah (not that she'd ever admit that was when she developed a strange pit in her stomach), but that feeling dissolves immediately when she unlocks her apartment door and sees Killian sitting on her couch.
On one hand, it's a relief. It's good to see him and if she's being honest with herself, she just wants to spend quality time with her best friend. On the other hand, the sight of her mildly disheveled looking partner in crime makes her dangerously aware of her growing anxiety.
"Hey, what's up?" Emma asks, making a pit stop in her room to change out of what Killian likes to call her agent uniform. "You haven't done a surprise drop by in forever."
She can hear Killian's sigh from down the hall and the distinct sound of a bottle (probably beer, probably from her fridge) being set down on her coffee table. "I don't know, love. Things are rather a mess with Milah at the moment."
"Mess how?" Emma surprises herself at how much work she has to put into sounding only mildly interested and is beyond grateful that Killian can't see how red her face is. She joins him in the living room, noting how his eyes flick to the shirt she's wearing (it's Walsh's, not his, for once) before going back to the beer in his hand. She settles onto the couch next to him, angling her body to face him.
"It appears as though she hasn't been exactly forthcoming with me about her past." Killian takes a deep breath and adds, "Or her present, for that matter."
"What do you mean?"
"Apparently, when we met at the pub, she was already in a very committed relationship with another man."
Emma blinks once, twice.
"What? So she was, what, using you to cheat?" Emma sputters, because while Killian has definitely broken more than a few hearts in his day, he had honor, and would never intentionally break up a relationship. The thought alone was probably killing him, and she can't help but feel indignant on his behalf.
Killian runs a hand over his face and God, she's never seen him look so tired.
"I don't know. It's complicated."
"That's an understatement." She winces at the sarcasm in her voice and squeezes Killian's hand in silent apology, taking their empty beer bottles to the kitchen to throw them away. She starts up the espresso maker - the real one, not her Keurig - and leans against the countertop. "Do you want to tell me more about it?"
"From what she's told me, it's a rather abusive relationship that she simply feels she cannot absolve. The man works for her father's company and is very high up, and she fears that ending her relationship with him will be detrimental for her family. I never expected the relationship I started with her in a bar would wind up so…"
"Complicated?" Emma offers, throwing Killian a sympathetic smile before turning her attention back to the coffee.
"That seems to be the word of the evening," Killian scoffs, and his chuckle reminds her of when he used to tell her about all the kids that made fun of him for being so good in school, trying to maintain a good sense of humor about the situation but not quite managing. An old sense of protectiveness rises up in her, because while Killian has always been able to put up a good front, she has always been able to see right through him.
"Do you think you guys are going to work things out?" Emma asks, setting a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of Killian.
"I'm not sure yet. I thought - I don't know what I thought." Killian pauses and glances down at her attempt at latte art, his head tilting to the side. "Swan, what in the devil is that blob in my coffee?"
Emma can't help but roll her eyes. "I was trying to make a duck. I obviously did not succeed."
"I'll say."
"Hey, I tried, okay?"
The corner of Killian's mouth quirks up and it's the first genuine smile Emma's seen from him all night. She bumps her shoulder against his, her head resting in the crook of his neck.
"What are you going to do?"
"I wish I knew, love. I wish I knew."
"Mm. I gotta tell you, Jones...I got nothing."
Killian snorts and tilts his head until it's against hers. "Me either, Swan. What a bloody shit show."
"Drink the coffee I made you."
"The one with the blob?"
"This is the last time I do something nice for you."
"I don't think making a subpar latte counts as doing something especially nice. But I appreciate the thought all the same."
Emma lasts a solid five minutes before she brings Milah up again.
"Do you want to talk about it now?"
"Not particularly, darling, no."
"Wanna get hammered?"
She feels Killian shake his head ever so slightly on top of hers and shifts a little closer to him. While she's never been a particularly affectionate person, she knows physical comfort (of the most innocent kind) helps Killian best when he's truly feeling down.
"I never thought we'd see the day where I was the talkative one," Emma remarks thoughtfully.
"Trust me, Swan, if there's one thing I've learned about you over seven years of friendship, it's that you never run out of things to say."
The next morning, Emma decides to cook. She's fairly pleased with herself for even coming up with the idea to turn on her stove and try to make something edible before she realizes something rather important.
She can't remember the last time she cooked anything.
Normally, Killian is the one doing the cooking in her apartment. Occasionally Mary Margaret or David give him a break, but Emma certainly never has. She spends ten minutes trying to find a skillet, because Killian organized her kitchen to his own specific taste a couple months after she moved in and she hasn't bothered trying to rearrange it. She'd hate to mess up his system.
Emma's mildly surprised when Killian sleeps through the clanging of the pans and her rather loud, rather colorful swearing, but he's emotionally exhausted and the furrow between his eyebrows remains even in sleep.
She manages to make eggs, sausage, and toast without damaging herself or her apartment too badly. She does have to bandage a couple of her fingers, including one of her thumbs, but nothing catches on fire. For Emma, that's a victory in of itself.
"Did you cook?" Killian's voice is rough from sleep and his hair is sticking up in every direction but there's no mistaking the disbelief behind his question.
"Shut up and eat. I have to get ready for work." Emma says the last part reluctantly, and she really can't picture leaving her best friend in this state.
"Of course. Life goes on, after all." He busies himself with poking at the plate she's made up for him and her heart breaks a little (not that she'd ever tell him that).
"How's the internship hunt going?" Emma asks instead. If there's one thing Killian Jones hates, it's pity directed towards him.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose. It's a rather competitive field after all."
"Are you going to make more calls today?"
"Don't worry, Swan. I won't wallow around the flat all day," Killian reassures her teasingly.
Emma's eyes search his for a moment before she allows herself to smile and tease him back. "Good."
Killian is a survivor, and she knows without a doubt that he will find a way to do the right thing by everyone involved. She also knows that she will be around to help him pick up the pieces afterwards.
Emma disappears into her room for a few minutes to change and when she comes out, Killian has a tumbler of iced coffee ready for her.
"Have I told you that you're the best?"
"Yes, but it never hurts to reaffirm a well known fact," Killian quips.
"Be good today." Don't get drunk and do something you'll regret later.
"I'll try my very best." Stop worrying.
"I expect nothing less," Emma replies, already halfway to the door. Killian follows her out into the hallway and waits while she locks up her apartment before she turns to face him. She tilts her head to the side and he mimics her, eyebrows raising and smile mocking. Emma returns it with a smirk of her own and hugs him tight, and if she notices that Killian is a little reluctant to let go, she doesn't say anything.
"You would not believe the day I've had. First, we get the wrong shipments and ours get delivered all the way across town, then my dad decides to drop in and see how the business is going, and - Emma, sweetheart, have you heard a word I've said?'
"What?" Emma blinks and refocuses on Walsh. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on with me today."
"You've been distracted for the past few days. Is everything okay?"
"Um, yeah. Work's just kind of been hell lately. You know Leroy, always being a pain in my ass," Emma says and hopes that Walsh can't tell just how forced her laugh is.
"Are you sure that's all?"
"Yeah." She's not.
"Do you want to tell me what's been going on? Come on, you can talk to me about anything."
Walsh reaches across the table to take her hand and he looks so damn sincere and she just feels so bad because how can she tell her boyfriend that she's not paying attention to him because she's worried about another guy?
"I'm sorry. I'm here, one hundred percent. What were you saying about your dad?"
"Never mind that. I actually want to talk to you about something else." She's witnessed Walsh fearlessly haggle with ridiculously persistent old ladies hell-bent on saving every cent they can but this is only the second time she's ever seen him nervous.
"I'm all ears," Emma says, leaning forward to rest her elbow on the table and prop her head up with her hand.
"Well, not talk to you about something, really. More like tell you something. Something kind of important."
"Walsh, babe, you're babbling." Most days, Emma finds quirks like this adorable, at least coming from Walsh. Today is not one of those days.
Walsh takes a deep breath. "Emma, I'm trying to be serious here."
"Right, um, sorry." She's not used to feeling chastised, but she knows she doesn't like it, especially when her boyfriend is the one doing the chastising. Emma's in the middle of figuring out just how annoyed she's entitled to be and she's pretty sure it's a lot when Walsh breaks through her internal reverie.
"Emma, I love you."
Oh.
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