He woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and no sense of where he was or what time it was.

He clicked at his phone to reveal the time, and saw that it was early evening. He also had three new emails and still no missed call from Emma.

Emma.

He looked around the room quickly and saw she wasn't there. Disappointment set into his chest. It was all just a dream. And he missed his flight. He would have to find another flight, spend more money…

He began to plan out how he was going to get out of Dallas while he rolled over and buried his face into his pillows. They smelled like Emma. Killian groaned loudly in frustration. Maybe he had died and been sent to hell. This would definitely be one of his personal levels.

Then, he heard singing coming from the next room. It was a quiet and peaceful sound. The tune was a song that Killian had written for Emma some years earlier and he had recorded it on a CD for her Christmas present last year. He listened closer and could make out quiet words he had written many months before.

"Some day things will be perfect
it'll be worth it all this time.
Stuck in the middle,
I know things will get better
hold it together, take your time
Stuck in the middle."

Killian rolled out of bed, deciding that if he was in hell, he might as well try to enjoy himself a bit. He hummed along to the tune she sang as he opened the door and made his way out into the living room. Emma was cleaning the kitchen, and on the island counter there sat a plate of banana pancakes.

"You push and then you shove,
you hate and then you love.
You try to switch it up,
but you're stuck in the middle," she continued, not noticing his presence.

"No matter what you do,
you had it how you choose.
Well either way you got to lose when you're stuck in the middle.
I guess this time I'll wait it out."

He joined in with her when she made it to the chorus again, changing the pitch of his voice to harmonize with her less than perfect singing voice.

"'Cause some day things will be perfect, it will be worth it all this time," she startled slightly at his voice turning around quickly with a hand to her heart.

"You scared me," she breathed. "I wasn't expecting you to be up for another ten hours or so."

Her tone was light and teasing, he tried to smile back at her. He moved across the kitchen quickly, needing to hold her in his arms to see if she was really there or if she was just in his imagination. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek on his chest. Killian basked in the smell of her hair and the feeling of her in his arms. It seemed dramatic looking back, but he really didn't think he was going to hug her again. Or, at least, not for a long time.

"Here, I got you something," Emma said, pulling back after a minute or two. She retreated into her room and came back with a postcard.

"Oh, you didn't have to," Killian began, but she gave him a look that made him think arguing was a lost cause already. The post card was from Percy Priest Lake in Nashville, Tennessee. The picture on the front was of the sun setting on a big, blue lake with trees on both sides of the frame. "This looks lovely. Is this where you were?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Sort of, for part of it, at least," she cleared her throat. "I actually spent a lot of time at the archives researching."

"Ah," he said, awkwardly flipping the postcard in his hands.

"I'm sorry," she said, not quite making eye contact. "I shouldn't have left like that.

"You said that already."

"I know."

"I'm not mad," he looked her in the eyes. "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm glad I am, too," she sighed, looking at him with tears in her eyes. "I missed you."

"Hey, none of that," he said, wiping away the tear that fell. "I missed you, too."

She leaned in for one more hug before returning to her task of cleaning the kitchen. The postcard served as a peace offering, which Killian thought over as he looked at it again. The back read:

Killian,

Wish you were here. You'd love the lake. Although it would be better if there weren't any screaming children. I'll be home soon.

-e

He smiled to himself as he grabbed the suitcases out of the living room and brought them back into his bedroom to unpack. Emma arrived at the door a few minutes into him unpacking.

"Were you going somewhere?" she asked, confusion in her voice.

"Uh, I mean," he scratched the place behind his ear and avoided looking at her. "Yeah. I was just going to go away for a bit. I didn't think…"

"You didn't think I was coming back," she finished for him. An awkward silence fell over them while both refused to look at the other. "I'm just going to…"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said, nodding a little too vigorously.

Emma left, closing the door behind her, and Killian collapsed face first on the bed groaning. Nothing could go right for more than a few minutes. Maybe he should leave anyway…

No, he thought as he continued to unpack and look around the room. That wouldn't solve anything…but will anything solve this? There wasn't a clear answer to his question that felt melodramatic.

Emma felt a similar frustration that she took out of the pan she was washing a little too hard. He had accepted her apology, and she couldn't blame him for being upset with her. She just wasn't sure how to make it right again.

They danced around one another for the next few weeks. Killian kept apologizing for little things, and Emma kept insisting he needed to stop apologizing.

He consistently looked like he had something he was about to say, but never did. Emma gave up trying to ask him what it was he was thinking of. He would mostly answer that he didn't know.

Which was true for the most part. Killian truly didn't have anything to say. The time Emma was away had awoken a feeling inside of him that he had been trying to push down for the past year. Now it was harder to burry away. And, if he was being honest with himself, Killian wasn't sure if he really wanted to burry it away. He wanted to see if she would be open to giving them a chance. He knows no way of asking this, though, or even bringing the subject up.

So they continued on, the silence between them tense and awkward. He started to spend less and less time in the apartment, and more time working overtime at the newspaper office or the coffee shop.

About two months later, Killian was at the bar down the street from their apartment. He was supposed to meet Will and David for drinks, but both of them had canceled last minute. Killian was considering leaving when Emma appeared next to him.

"Swan," he nodded towards her as she ordered her drink.

"Jones," she said, nodding in return.

After about thirty minutes of drinking, Emma started to talk more. It was not that she was drunk as much as she found drinking a good excuse to be able to talk to him. He seemed more relaxed than he had been in weeks. They ended up laughing and sharing stories of the ridiculous things that had happened in their absence of regular conversation.

Last call came, and they found themselves stumbling out of the bar and heading back towards their apartment. Emma's laughter is nothing if not infectious, and Killian found himself laughing at things that weren't actually funny just because Emma was laughing, like the time she started laughing at a joke she started but couldn't finish.

They finally made it into the apartment after fumbling with keys for a while, which also led to a fit of giggles. Emma tripped over their welcome mat and started to fall flat on her face. Killian reached out and grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling completely.

His heart jolted in his chest as he began to feel the familiar feeling of longing that he had just started to repress again. He quickly let go of her waist, and instead draped his arm around her shoulders and helped lead her into her room. While she changed into her pajamas, he stood with his back to her.

"Killian, why aren't we friends anymore," Emma sighed, crawling into bed.

"Swan, you know we're friends."

"No, you call me Swan when you're upset with me."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Right now is not the time to talk about this, love."

"Will there ever be a right time?"

He sighed, defeated. He knew she was asking the right questions, and he did not want to answer them.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he went to close the door.

"Killian, wait!"

"Yes, Emma."

She scowled at him, and he thought he might have seen the tip of her tongue poke out from her mouth.

"Won't you sleep in my bed tonight?"

"Not tonight," he said, and it came out more pained than he had intended.

"Why?" she crossed her arms.

"You're intoxicated," he also crossed his arms, to mirror her stance.

"No, I am barely buzzed," she rolled her eyes dramatically at him.

"Not tonight," he sighed, knowing that his heart could not stand him spending the night in her bed. "Goodnight, Emma."

"Goodnight, Killian," she mumbled, already half asleep.

He closed the door and ran his hand over his face. This woman was going to be the death of him.


A/N: Just remember that I love you all. Thank you for reading :)