A/N I cannot believe how long it has been since I have updated this story. Sorry. I have had this chapter half written for weeks but I have had some MAJOR writers block issues/crisis of confidence/general life stuff get in the way.

I hope this chapter makes up for the wait!

It is impossible to shake off the feeling.

Almost a week has passed since her date with Killian. A busy workload had prevented more than an exchange of text messages between the two and truthfully she was thankful.

Pen clenched between her teeth, she tries to clear her mind and finish composing the memo that has already occupied far more of her time than it warranted. But as her fingers hover over the keyboard, all she can think about is him.

Kicking herself mentally, she sighs and leans back in her chair. Twisting around to peer out of the window behind her she looks out onto the quiet Maine town that she now calls home. This situation with Killian was not what she signed up for. Moving was supposed to make life easier. A fresh start was going to give her and Henry a clean slate. Yet, those all too familiar feelings of uncertainty had raised their ugly heads.

And she knows it's because she likes him. God, more than likes him, if she is honest. But up until now everything between them had been a bit messy and ambiguous and Emma Swan craved order and surety (a consequence of a complicated childhood, she mused ruefully).

Mary Margaret and Regina's offhand comments about her son's teacher - (And her - what? Date? Boyfriend? She cringes a little inside) -had left a queasy feeling in her stomach. The anticipation that he would be yet another guy who disappointed her churning her up insides. She watches as the townsfolk cross Main Street, just visible in the near distance. Her stomach rumbles reminding her it is almost past lunch, but her mind is perilously occupied by studying the women who pass by.

Has he been with the tall brunette with the choppy bob? The red head who wears five inch heels like they are sneakers? The girl in blue jeans and cowboy boots who has a shopping bag tossed over her shoulder?

She squeezes her eyes shut.

She knows she should talk to him before her mind drives her crazy with questions. Be straight and ask him about his… dating history.

Her eyes flicker to her cell phone where it lies on her desk. Yet inwardly she cringes. How on Earth could she bring up something like this without sounding clingy and maybe even desperate?

Hey - I heard you get around a bit with the ladies - care to explain?

So, you're the local man whore?

When what she really wants to ask is-

What's going on between us?

Where is this going?

She swipes open her phone, staring at his last text-

Cold out today, better bundle up Swan.

Straightening her mouth she dismisses his message, scrolling down to another name.

Perhaps she didn't have to ask him at all.

/

Emma sits on a tall stool in Storybrooke's best (and only) ice cream parlor. The hot fudge sundae she has been working at for the last ten minutes has begun to melt into an undistinguishable coffee colored liquid that she stirs with her spoon as her companion talks away.

"And then there was this whole issue with the bus being double-booked for our class field trip- Emma, are you okay?"

Starting, she looks up into the eyes of Mary Margaret - as warm and kind as ever, though at the moment tinged with a hint of concern.

Emma scrunches up her brow and lightly shakes her head, "No, just, tired…"

The other woman's brows raise suspiciously as she spoons a mouthful of lemon sorbet. "I may not know you that well yet Emma, but I'm a teacher. I can spot a lie a mile away."

Blushing, Emma feels a flutter in her stomach. Slowly twirling the spoon in the melted confection, she tilts her head, "It's about Killian."

"Okay…"

"I um…" she squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to think how to approach the subject, "I need to know something. You know this town is small and I get the impression there is more to him - or his past - than I know."

Lowering her voice, Mary Margaret leans a little closer, "Shouldn't you be talking to him about this?"

"I guess…Maybe…" And all the foolishness of her current feelings flood her mind until she bites on her bottom lip, the sensation breaking her chain of thoughts. "I mean, I will. Things are still… casual between us." She drops the spoon and it lands against the glass with a faint ting. "I guess I just want a heads up. Being new here and all."

Across the table, Mary Margaret folds her arms and pulls in a deep breath. "I suppose I know what you mean. Everyone lives in each other's pockets here - small towns tend to encourage that."

"So…"

Mary Margaret sighs softly, tilting her head to one side as she places her spoon down gently. "Well, I guess that he doesn't have the best reputation among some people. From what I know he doesn't date, exactly. I mean I hear rumors that he has one night stands and such. But that's just gossip. It happens in a small town - not much else to talk about. Of what I know about him, he's a decent guy and a great teacher - the students love him."

Emma smiles, imagining him in action at the front of a class. It's strangely enticing.

"But, you know Emma, reputation is just hearsay and opinion. I think the important thing is, what do you think about him?"

The sundae is fully melted now, but regardless she picks up a spoonful and swirls it over her tongue, pondering the question as the two descend into gentle silence.

"You're right. I'll talk to him soon - find out if he has three ex wives hidden back in England or something," she gives Mary Margaret a brief smile, who chuckles softly at Emma's remark.

/

Her phone buzzes as she leaves the parlor, after a warm hug and promises to meet for dinner one night soon.

It's Henry. He's asking if he can go to his friend Oliver's house for dinner. She pauses at her car, as she was just about to pick him up from soccer practice.

Tapping back a reply, she offers to pick him up at eight, knowing that there will be a serious Minecraft competition taking place after the boys eat. His reply makes her smile.

Thanks Mom. Love you x

She slips into her car, phone still in her hand. The conversation had bolstered her spirit somewhat, the jangled nerves of earlier are soothed by Mary Margaret's wise words. She's reminded of just how long she has been out of the dating game.

Trying not to overthink her actions, she opens a new message.

Are you busy? Can I meet you?

I'm at home, had a free period so took some books home.

She swallowed quickly, her traitorous heart beating a little too fast at the idea of being alone with him in his home.

Is it okay if I meet you there?

For a moment, she halts her breathing, waiting for the reply.

Of course.

A minute later, she is entering his address into her GPS. It briefly passes her mind that she would be seeing his home for the first time. A little electric thrill darts over her skin as she considers what the place he lives in will reveal about himself. Because in many ways she doesn't know much about him yet.

But she really wants to.

God, it would be easier if she didn't like him as much as she did…

His apartment complex is a renovated industrial building, not far from the center of town. She slides into a space out front, only then realizing that her heart is racing. Her blood pressure must be dropping; a little light headed and slightly faint, she climbs out of her car and gazes toward the building's main entrance.

Mouth dry, her mind goes blank. What the hell is she doing? For a second, she considers turning back, just driving home and forgetting this whole thing. God, should she really feeling like this? Maybe it was all nothing? Those rumors and tales, they could be just that. And it's not like there was any commitment between them. Does she have the right to ask for more?

Someone is leaving as she reaches the door, she slips inside and avoiding the elevators, instead finding the stairs. An extra minute or two would help calm her down. She hopes.

He lives on the third floor. She finds his doorway smart and clean, a small welcome mat laid out. It's a little detail that makes her smile. She hadn't expected that. Filing that thought away, she raises her hand to knock on the door when it unexpectedly opens.

"Emma?"

The guy is vaguely familiar. Then it clicks - she met him at Regina's party.

"Um, yes… Robin?" she asks tentatively.

"Yes. Though far more sober than the scoundrel you may have previously met." He smiles and she can't help but reciprocate. He has an easy going air and a charm about him that makes her feel instantly at ease.

"Is, um, Killian… here?" she tries to look past him, slightly confused.

"Yes, of course, my manners! I was just dropping off something." He leans back into the apartment, "Killian? Come here you lazy sod!"

A slightly dishevelled looking Killian Jones appears a moment later. He's discarded his tie and his shirt is untucked. "You're hear a little quicker than I anticipated-" he explains with a smile and a glance at Robin.

There's a slight awkward pause.

"And that is my cue to be getting a move on." He glances at Killian, "Still on for drinks and the match tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Killian replies, and with nod to Emma, Robin leaves.

"So you two are, mates?" She asks as she follows his gesture to come inside.

He chuckles slightly, "Well we expats do tend to gravitate towards one another. But he's a good sort. Apart from his taste in women."

"Oh?" she asks. She watches him walk towards the open plan kitchen.

"Coffee?"

"Please," she nods.

"He is embroiled in some strange love/hate relationship with the prickliest woman in town."

Emma knows who he means straight away, "Regina?" she asks as she settles on a stool opposite him as he pours two fresh cups.

"Indeed, hence our presence at her little party the other week," he replies, raising his eyebrows in a way that makes her want to laugh whilst simultaneously making her flush. "It's on and off more often than I can count."

Emma takes the offered cup and waits as he walks around the countertop to sit on the stool next to hers. "I guess some people like that kind of thing," she offers, meeting his eyes, trying to judge his reaction.

"Maybe some people do," he answers before taking a sip.

Her stomach twists a little. Does he? she thinks.

"So, love, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Looking up, she catches his eye again.

God, she likes him.

"Yeah, about that…" She licks her dry lips, a little frown appearing between her eyes. Unexpectedly he reaches out and rubs his thumb over the spot. A little flustered, she feels her cheeks redden.

"Is there a problem, sweetheart?"

The term of endearment makes her want to melt into his arms and forget why she is here and just kiss him and hold him and-

"No." She takes a breath. "Well, not really."

His blue eyes bore into hers. Her restraint crumbles.

"Kind of," she concedes.

He stiffens a little, straightening his back, his expression becoming instantly more somber.

"I, um…"

Their eyes meet again and she doesn't quite know what to say anymore. Whatever he was before they met - does it even matter?

With a gentle shake of her head, she reaches across the countertop and pulls a napkin from the neat stack that sits in a simple chrome holder. "I wanted to ask- what is this?" she begins, instantly kicking herself mentally, "I'm sorry…that's not what I meant to say… I mean, what do you see between us? We just… we haven't talked about things and I know we've only had a few dates, maybe not even that, but I've got Henry to think of, and it makes it all so much more complicated and… and…"

She runs out of words before her brain has time to catch up with her shoulders have dropped a little. There's an almost smile on his face.

"What do you want this to be?" he asks quietly.

"I asked first,' she quips with a quick smile, before taking a deep breath, "But honestly? I like you. I enjoy spending time with you. And I've not liked anyone in a long time," she admits.

Pulling his stool a little closer, his hand finds its way to her thigh and her breath catches in her throat at his nearness. And he smells so good…

"Well that makes two of us," he smiles, his fingers spreading out over her leg as she swallows deeply.

She finds herself leaning a little closer, gravitating towards him. It's such a strange and unfamiliar feeling: wanting someone on so many levels like this.

Looking at her cup, she tilts her head and continues, "I'm not very good at this. At dating. If I'm honest, I've avoided it." She bites her lips and decides she may as well be honest, "I don't want to get hurt again, if you want to know the truth."

"Emma…" he sighs.

"And I've heard a few things about you. And I feel so stupid, but, I needed to know what you think we are doing. Because-"

She pauses when his hand tightens on her thigh. Before she can finish with I think I'm falling for you.

"Please, love, never think anything you can say or think is stupid. Least of all about me." He shifts in his seat, moving a tiny but closer. "But I can guess what you've heard. And I understand. In a town like Storybrooke, having a private life is not easy.

"So, you've…"

Slept around?

He begins to draw circles with his fingertips. "Some time ago, long before I came here, I lost someone very special to me. Since then, I hadn't wanted anything serious. I hadn't even considered getting close to someone."

"Makes sense," she nods, not sure what to expect next.

"But you-" he smiles and her breath catches in her throat. "With you - it's different."

"Different?" she whispers

"You have me wanting more. I want to know you, Emma. And of course I think you are lovely, and gorgeous and sexy-" she blushes, "But I want more."

"So do I," she admits.

He leans forward and they kiss. It's not a hot, passionate kiss, like they've shared before. Neither is it chaste and wanting. Instead it's probing and questioning, perhaps the most honest kiss they have shared. And there is still so much more to be said.

They pull apart and he rests his forehead against hers.

"I want to try - for us to try this out. See if we can become something."

"Me too," she murmurs, feeling the tension she had been carrying melt away like molten wax rolling down a candle.

"So are we making this official then? I was going to wait to ask-"

"Yes," she nods, looping her arms around his neck, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

Because she likes him. And he likes her. And for the first time in forever it just may be the right thing for both of them.

"I want to give this a real try. Do things properly," he replies, pressing a slightly cool kiss against her cheek.

"Not too properly," she teases as she stands and settles between his parted legs, his hands reaching around her waist.

"I think we've already passed a few milestones along the way. But perhaps, let's not rush things?"

And maybe she's a little disappointed, but more so she's intrigued. They have so much to learn about each other. Perhaps waiting a while to get to know one another even more intimately could wait. For a little while.

"Agreed," she said, her lashes fluttering a little, as she glances at her watch. "But perhaps we should seal the deal with a kiss?"

"Aye," he nods, "Perhaps we should."

/

He's the luckiest bastard. He knows it.

She's beautiful and intelligent and witty - and for some reason is interested in him. It's taken him by surprise. He hadn't set out to meet someone. He'd even thought a few times that this was it for him - he'd never find love again. Had even started to make peace with it.

Yet here she was, in his arms, lips pressed against his, her fingers tangled in his hair, her body so close-

He breathed in her scent. Her sweet perfume, the fruity shampoo he was beginning to love, the freshly laundered shirt she wore. He could never tire of kissing her. She was so passionate, so expressive in her kisses. It was like the two could read what each other needed and wanted. For so long a kiss had just been a prelude to other activities for Killian Jones.

But with Emma Swan, it was a whole experience of its own.

And as he pulled her into his lap and held her tight, he began to imagine if he'd ever want to let her go.

A/N So things are all good between Killian and Emma... Or are they?

If you can leave a review or a message, I'd really appreciate it. Knowing what you think of my writing really helps inspire me. Thank you!