A/N: Yikes...sorry y'all. Fighting to get back into the groove of things.
"Emma, I love you."
The words are still ringing in her ears. It's been a few days since Walsh's confession had left her reeling and Emma had muttered something about needing to leave, needing time, before rushing out of the restaurant without looking back. A big part of her feels incessantly guilty about not giving Walsh a proper reply, but the last time someone had told her he loved her, it had only ended in tears.
She knows this time is different, that Walsh is different, but she can't help but be scared.
Emma hasn't seen Walsh since that night. They've been exchanging texts, but the flirting and attempts at good conversation are half-hearted from both of them. Walsh had been extraordinarily understanding about the whole ordeal, and that only made Emma's guilt worse. How was their relationship supposed to move forward if she couldn't even hear him tell her he loved her, let alone say it back?
"Well, Emma, it sounds like you're letting your past experience with Neal hold you back from anything you might be able to have with Walsh," Elsa says, when Emma voices her concerns to the people she trusts most in matters of the heart - and Milah, because she was trying, she really was. Despite the fact that Milah and Killian were going through a rough patch, Emma still wanted to try, for his sake.
Emma looks around at her circle of friends, Elsa with her unfailing compassion and understanding for what Emma's been through, Tink with her no-nonsense logic and quick wit, Ruby with her sense of humor and an openness that continually dumbfounded Emma, Mary Margaret with her everlasting hope and optimism, and Milah with her...well, Emma was sure she offered something, even if she didn't know what that something was quite yet.
"Yeah, Em, I mean, I never thought I'd be able to move on from Peter until I met Dorothy," Ruby offers, uncharacteristically serious for once. "You just have to open yourself up to an entirely new experience."
Emma raises her eyebrows. "Ruby, I think you discovering that you're bi is a little different. Arguably more monumental, too."
"You're still opening yourself up to a new thing, a new person, though," Mary Margaret adds. "I know it's hard, especially for you, but you owe it to yourself to give this relationship with Walsh a real chance."
The others chime in, agreeing with Mary Margaret, but Milah remains contemplative, her eyes searching Emma's face.
"I think Mary Margaret's right, but don't rush into something you're not ready for," Milah says at last, her voice effortlessly cutting through the chatter. "It's not fair to you or Walsh if you push yourself to do or say something that you don't want to. It's also not a big deal if you don't tell him that you love him too."
Mary Margaret's eyes widen and her mouth opens to protest, but Tink chimes in before she gets the chance. "Milah's right. People fall in love at different paces. There's nothing wrong with waiting until you're sure to tell him you feel the same way."
"I guess it would be unfair if I said something I didn't mean before I was ready," Emma sighs. "What do I tell him, though? I've never been good with this stuff - the delicate, complicated stuff."
Milah laughs, and it's one of the first times Emma's ever felt a real connection with her. "Just tell him how you feel! Tell him you're not ready, but that doesn't mean you aren't happy with how your relationship is going, and you'll get there on your own time. If he's half as good a guy as I think he is, he'll understand."
"Yeah, you're right," Emma says, nodding. She offers Milah a shy but genuine smile. "Thanks, Milah."
Milah smiles back. "Anytime."
Emma's talk with Walsh goes surprisingly well - it shouldn't have been surprising, but considering that all of Emma's relationship experience involved Neal, her evaluation of normal relationship standards was a little skewed. Still, Walsh is amazingly understanding, and kind, and for maybe the second time in her life, Emma feels lucky and safe.
It's nice. (It's way more than nice, but Emma's never been great with words.)
She starts incorporating Walsh into the group more. He gets along with Milah and Mary Margaret extremely well; the boys are more reluctant, especially Killian, but Emma figures that's something they'll have to get over on their own. She and Walsh make a freakishly good team, especially when it comes to Monopoly, but they're still not as good as Emma and Killian. (No one is.)
Walsh slowly becomes a part of their group, and Emma's joy at this shift doesn't go unnoticed by any of them.
"It's nice to see her so happy," Mary Margaret murmurs to David, the two of them tasked with preparing taco ingredients this week.
"I don't think I even saw her this happy with Neal, for all the years they were together," David whispers back. "It's different this time."
"Yeah," Mary Margaret says, smiling. "Walsh seems like a really great guy for her."
David grumbles a bit, for show, but Mary Margaret can tell that he agrees, and there's no mistaking how thrilled he is that Emma has finally found someone worthy.
Neither of them notice Killian lingering at the fridge, or the way his face falls when Emma laughs at something Walsh says and leans into him the same way she used to with Killian, and no one mentions the almost tangible tension between him and Milah.
"Killian? Are you okay?" Emma inquires, poking at his cheek with her pen. "You look so...pensive."
"I'm fine, Swan, really. Stop fretting." His smile is weak at best, and his tone lacks its usual humor.
"Is it Milah? Are you two still fighting? I thought you'd resolved things, or at least come to an agreement since she was at taco night," Emma says, her eyebrows furrowing together in concern.
Killian wrinkles his nose and stretches out on Emma's couch, his feet dangling off one of the arms. "I don't know. It's still a bit odd, but she says she's chosen me, and I have to believe her." It sounds more like a question than he'd care to admit, but Emma graciously lets it slide.
They sit in silence for a minute before Emma moves from her spot on the floor and nudges Killian's shoulder until he sits up long enough for her to readjust him to have his head on her lap. It's been a long time since they've been like this, but Emma notices how Killian relaxes almost immediately, and that's enough to make her ignore the small hint of guilt she feels at doing this with someone other than Walsh.
Emma's hand goes to Killian's hair automatically, and she chuckles at the way he practically purrs when she scratches his scalp.
"Now tell me what's bugging you so much, Jones."
Killian sighs and shifts so that his shoulder blades aren't digging into Emma's thighs. "Milah and I are seemingly alright, I suppose, but the situation with her other paramor doesn't sit well with me."
"Well, have you talked with her about it? Again, I mean, and thoroughly? This doesn't seem like the kind of thing you can gloss over and call good," Emma remarks, sympathy unknowingly creeping into her voice.
"I'm not even sure what we can talk about at this point," Killian says, running a hand over his face. "I'm not about to give up by any means, but it's up to Milah as much as it's up to me. She's been working up the nerve to leave this man for weeks, with nothing to show for it. I don't want to push her, but the whole thing is driving me mad."
"I know," Emma says quietly, absentmindedly combing her fingers through his hair.
"I hate waiting," Killian huffs.
"You pride yourself on being patient," Emma reminds him indignantly, her hand coming to a halt.
"I do no such thing," Killian retorts, his gentle nudge to get her to resume playing with his hair a stark contrast to his sharp tone.
Emma thinks he can't see the way she mimics him, mouthing his exact words with over exaggerated facial expressions, but his elbow in her stomach proves otherwise.
"You'd tell me if I could do anything to help though, right?" Emma asks after jokingly scolding Killian about the fake double standards in their friendship that stated she could injure him but he could not touch her.
"I'm set for a while like this, love."
They fall asleep like that, even though it's barely ten at night and neither of them has been in bed before midnight since they were in high school. For once, Emma is the one who wakes up with a crick in her neck, Killian's head still in her lap and her fingers still tangled in his hair. She slowly lifts Killian's head long enough to slip out from under it and stumbles to the kitchen to make coffee. Her body aches like she spent the night crammed in her car waiting for a perp instead of on the couch in her apartment, but she could tell that Killian was feeling better, and that made everything worth it.
"Swan?" His voice is thick with sleep and she can just imagine his face, all scrunched up in confusion as he searches for her, and Emma has to remember to breathe.
"Here," she calls, her face suddenly abnormally warm.
"Coffee?" Killian asks hopefully, turning to bury his face in a pillow. (It smells like her.)
"Air?" Emma quips, already setting down a mug on the coffee table.
Killian turns his head just enough to smile at her. "Thanks," he says quietly, and they both know he's not talking about the caffeine.
"What are friends for?"
"Penny for your thoughts," Walsh says, pressing a kiss to the top of Emma's head and running a thumb over her wrist.
Emma hums, content to spend the night like this, with Walsh, on her couch, watching but not really paying attention to one of his absurd documentaries. She presses a little closer, snuggling into his chest, and voices her thought out loud, "Just thinking that I'm right where I want to be."
Walsh smiles at that, unaware that Emma has spent the past few days gathering the courage to let him know that she loves him, too, because she thinks she does - in fact, she's almost sure of it.
The room is quiet, save for the monotonous drone of the documentary narrator, but it's comfortable and familiar and exactly the kind of calm Emma craves.
"Hey, Walsh?"
"Yeah sweetheart?" He's completely entranced by the screen, displaying monkeys, of all things, but a slight tug on his shirt from Emma is all it takes for him to turn to face her. "What's up?"
Emma steels her nerves and shifts to face him as well. The earnest expression on Walsh's face brings a smile to hers, and she leans forward so that their foreheads touch. She thumbs at his cheek and has barely said the word I when her phone starts to ring.
"Oh, for the love of," Emma mutters, sighing and giving Walsh a quick kiss before digging out her phone from under the couch cushion. "I'm sorry, let me just make sure that this isn't work related."
"Take your time," Walsh says, rubbing Emma's arm when she settles back against him.
She blinks in surprise when, instead of the blank screen she associates with work, her phone displays a goofy picture of her and Killian, his arm slung around her shoulders as they laughed at whatever joke one of them had made. It's an odd time for Killian to call - it's more like him to text, really - and Emma almost considers sending it to voicemail, but something makes her pick up.
"Killian? Something wrong?" Emma asks, missing Walsh's exasperated sigh in her concern for her best friend.
"It's Milah. I-I got a call she was in an accident, and I have to go to the hospital...and Swan, I don't know what to do."
Emma's hand flies to her mouth, and Walsh must have heard, because he's already slipping on his shoes and grabbing her jacket for her.
"Okay, hang tight. I'll give you a ride to the hospital and we'll figure out what to do from there, okay? Killian?"
Killian draws a deep breath from his end of the call and Emma can picture him nodding. "Yes, right, okay. Of course. Good plan."
"Killian."
"Yeah?"
Emma worries her bottom lip, afraid of the answer to the question she's about to ask. "How bad?"
"They didn't say." Killian's voice is quiet, unsure, and Emma knows that she's going to have to be strong for the both of them tonight.
I know I've been gone, but review anyway?
