I'm so floored by all the support for this story. Thank you so much for the wonderful comments! I had to elaborate a bit on the relationship between these two, but for those who are enjoying the m-rated side of things, the smut shall return promptly ;] don't worry! As usual, all rights/characters belong to OUAT...which returns TOMORROW :] yay!
The slight breeze floating through the air at the docks was enough to turn Emma's hair into a tangled mess while also blowing her skepticism right back into the picture. Water. Emma was not a fan of water.
Killian's spirit was so light and carefree as he all but tugged her across the boardwalk to where a smaller sailboat was stationed away from the others. It barely bobbed on the subtle waves and caused Emma's heart to race. Her eyes grew wide when Killian squeezed her hand and then hopped onto the deck, a loud thump sounding against the surface via his all too adorable shoes. He looked at her sweetly, offering her an outstretched hand. She hesitated with a shaky deep breath, something his perception picked up on quickly.
"Hey," Killian said, tilting his head curiously. "You okay there, Swan?"
"Ummm maybe," she replied, peeking into the boat but keeping her feet planted. "I don't know."
"Love," he began, narrowing his eyes with an inquiring smirk. "Do you dislike the water?"
Of course he'd figure her out all too quickly. She felt a blush cover her cheeks as she shrugged. He smiled, trying not to chuckle as he used that extended hand to scratch behind his ear.
"Well, well...I never thought I'd see the day where you'd admit a fear of something, love. I was always under the impression that Emma Swan is unrealistically brave."
"I'm glad you're enjoying this," she glared sarcastically. "I'm not afraid. I just don't like the idea of being on a boat in the middle of the water in the dead of night. One might say I like living far too much for that."
"Well it's a good thing we aren't going out on the water then," he laughed. "I was merely hoping to enjoy a drink in a location where we might have some privacy. Very few people would ever think to find me here."
"So your plan was really just to come down here to...hang out?"
"I guess if that's what you prefer to call it," he mused. "I actually hoping I might get you to merely consider the sea...and perhaps ponder giving it a shot."
"So you knew?"
"You've turned down the chance to cater the dinner the city hosts on that large riverboat for Founder's Day twice," he explained observantly. "And those are just the times I've actually noticed."
Only Killian would make it his business to know something like that. She raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly returned the gesture. Reaching out for her again, she couldn't help but notice the flicker that changed his gaze. Those eyes went true blue again, evoking that now all too expected plea - just trust me, Emma.
"I don't intend on changing your fear instantly, love," he assured her. "But perhaps a little at a time...if you'd be open to it?"
God dammit, Emma thought as she moved her fingers toward his.
Killian pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist as he grinned at her newfound compliance. He pushed a hand into her hair, holding her head steady as he dove in to kiss her. It was passionate and needy - the kind of kiss that would assist greatly in chasing away her second thoughts.
"Not so bad, right?
The look in his eyes told her that he was inquiring about more than just her phobia. He looked hopeful and protective all at once - an absolutely sinful combination.
"I guess not," she said softly, a half smile turning up at the corner of her mouth. "Not at all."
"So he sails?"
Killian had set up quite the pile of assorted pillows and blankets on the deck of the sailboat. He leaned up against the helm, slightly shielding them from view as he pulled Emma's back tight against him.
"He does," Killian smiled, kissing her cheek firmly as he wrapped her tightly in his arms and a convenient quilt. "Not as often as he would like though. I suppose that's the burden of the business owner."
"Yeah, I hear you there," Emma nodded, stroking his fingers as she studied the way their hands fit together. "It's crazy how much time it takes to keep things running."
"That it is," he agreed. "What free time has your entrepreneurial endeavor stolen from you?"
Emma had never really thought about it. Business had always been enjoyable and she honestly loved her job. Work usually wasn't work at all.
"Reading," she said with a sudden insight, continuing to run her fingers over his hand. "I guess I don't get to do that as much as I used to."
"Aww, the Swan is a bookworm," he teased, tightening his hold on her when she smacked him on the arm. "What do you read?"
"Uh-uh, my turn now."
"Okay," he smiled, sighing against her. "Shoot."
"What's your favorite?"
He laughed, knowing full well what she was asking. Emma felt her anticipation heighten considerably.
"That's like asking you for your preferred cupcake, love-"
"Red velvet," Emma interrupted with a smirk. "You were saying?"
"I don't suppose you've heard of the gladiolus? It's not very well known."
Emma shook her head with curiosity. This was like asking an A-list actor about his favorite movie. Talk about intrigue.
"It's a tall flower - great for full sunlight. The elderly woman who runs that diner on main street? I helped with her garden when I first arrived here."
"She liked them?"
"Well, I think she does...now," he shrugged with a small smile. "She kind of gave me free reign on what to plant and I chose those after doing some research on what might flourish in Maine weather."
Emma had seen the towering plants with sword shaped leaves and symmetrical blossoms outside the diner when she stopped for coffee. They were colorful and resilient in a way that felt welcoming.
"It was my first botanical endeavor here - and it was successful," he continued. "I guess I liked that."
"I'm guessing there's some additional reason you'd admit to it being your favorite?"
Killian looked as if he was about to answer when suddenly his phone chimed loudly. His hand shot down to his pocket as Emma sat up, allowing him to retrieve it. He gave her an apologetic look as the screen brightened and his eyes began to examine what was needing his attention.
Emma couldn't be sure, but she was pretty positive he hadn't been expecting whatever he read. His face lost a bit of color and his eyes narrowed. His fingers seemed frozen over the keys. Something was wrong.
"Killian? You okay?"
He seemed to snap out of his slight trance, suddenly remembering where they were. He tried to recover with a smile, but she knew something wasn't right. A soft rumble of thunder overhead captured both of their attention, successfully giving him an out for the time being.
"Yeah, fine," he replied, eyes back to the sky. "But we should get out of here before the rain victimizes both of us this time."
He pulled the quilt up around her head, offering some shelter in case the storm was quicker than they were. He helped her from the boat and as they hurried toward the truck, Emma watched his every move.
What was he hiding?
Sleep came oddly easy to Emma - but of course it would after the strenuous bedtime ritual she shared with Killian. Twice.
Memories of her back against the headboard and his stubble against her neck drew a smile to her lips as she woke up to the darkness. Stretching a hand across the sheets, the satisfied grin was replaced with a frown as she realized she was alone in his bed. Pulling the thin comforter around her frame, Emma's bare feet met the cool wood floor. The house wasn't huge - it wouldn't be too difficult to find him. In fact, she was pretty sure she knew just where to look.
Emma leaned in the doorway to the open air porch that acted as her florist's greenhouse. Killian's eyes were a studious blue, completely consumed by something - perhaps something other than his current task. His hands were inspecting the thick leaves of some familiar flowers in a planter on the wooden tabletop. Orange and white plus a few yellow ones of the brightest variety - they were the ones he loved. Gladioluses. Emma grinned which consequentially led to him noticing her presence in the entryway.
"They're beautiful, Killian."
"I suppose it takes one to recognize one."
She bit her lip at his compliment and he spun on his sturdy stool to face her, a motion that seemed to prompt her to move toward him. He pulled her close, her back against his chest and settled his arms around her so she was all but sitting on his lap. She covered his clasped hands with hers as he rested his chin on her shoulder.
"I thought I was the insomniac," Emma commented, leaning her head on his. "I missed you."
He hummed a sigh, kissing her neck and tightening his embrace as she took to caressing his fingers. He was uncharacteristically quiet. Something was definitely up.
"You didn't answer my question - the one from before," Emma reminded him. "You know...about the flower."
"Ah, that question," he smirked half heartedly, nodding toward the flowers in front of them. "The gladiolus signifies strength and constancy - a way of remembrance with the resolve to never give up. Some say it's a flower to symbolize good character and moral integrity. The name comes from the gladiator so it makes sense I guess."
"I have to admit that it's really starting to fascinate me the way your little insights are always so fitting," she laughed, trying for some banter to lighten things up. "It's a little suspicious, Jones. You're lucky I don't feel a need to verify your facts."
"You are ever the hopeless romantic, Swan," he teased, tickling her side and turning her to meet his gaze. "What's wrong - don't you trust me?"
"No, I do. I just-"
Emma froze at the widening of his eyes. She'd admitted it - finally and without thinking twice. She really did trust him. He lifted his hand to caress her cheek, smiling into a sweet kiss as their lips moved together. His motions felt natural and Emma sensed how relieved he was. She didn't want the moment to end - she could kiss him for hours. He finally pulled back and took a deep breath, his happiness appearing short lived as a bit of anxiety appeared in his expression.
"You have no idea how happy I am to hear such a confession, love."
"I know how much you enjoy a victory, Jones."
"That I do," he smiled softly, reaching to the table where his phone sat quietly. "But I also have something I wanted to tell you."
She arched an eyebrow at him, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as he placed the phone next to the flowers. He looked unbelieving, clearly shaken by whatever this was about.
"Killian, what's this about?"
"It's...it's about the past," he tried, frustration on his face as she interlaced her hand with his. "I didn't want to have to burden you with any of this..."
His voice drifted off and he looked around the room. Grasping the side of his face and forcing his eyes back to hers, Emma zeroed in on him. He sighed, closing his eyes.
"Come on," she said, pulling on his hand. "Kitchen - now."
"Wha...why?"
"Because I'm going to make coffee."
"At two in the morning? Is there a reason you're anxious to stay awake, love?"
"Well, I pride myself on being a good listener," she replied, pulling him to a position where she could loop her arm through his. "And you obviously have a story to tell me."
