Again, if you like this, check out all of 'Tis The Season and if you really really like it, check out my brand new book (chapter 26) which also contains a selection of Christmas stories.


Hey.

So… I caught my guy faster than expected.. do you wanna get a cup of something at Granny's maybe?

It's Emma by the way.

From last week?

Killian stares down at his phone, his finger a bit numb from shock. He was fully convinced that the first two messages were meant for someone else and was just typing a reply (something along the lines of Sorry, lass, I think you texted the wrong number. This is the inadequate arsehole you went out with last week.) when the other two came in.

Is it possible that she had more than one date last week? Well, it's certainly more probable than her wishing to see him again. Ever. In any situation. Let alone a social one. Their date was a "low point" for Killian. And that coming from a guy who, in the last year alone, lost his hand, his job and his girlfriend in that precise order, each one as a consequence of the previous.

Hello, Swan. I feel like I should make sure you're aware – this is Killian Jones. Ruby set us up last week.

He tosses the phone back on his coffee table, sure that he is not going to even get an oh shit, sorry, wrong number and heads to the kitchen, sending a silent prayer that there is some spaghetti left because he does not want to go outside in this weather.

He's out of spaghetti. Of course, he is. The universe doesn't leave pasta in the cupboards of the people it hates.

His phone pings again and he feels bad for underestimating Emma Swan's politeness. After all, this is the woman who stoically sat through the excruciating two hours that constituted their "date" and even asked if he needed a ride home afterwards. The woman is part angel. But then he figured that out pretty quickly. That was part of the problem.

I know?

Killian frowns down at the bright screen. The hell? He starts sliding his thumb over the keyboard, cursing as he gets every second word wrong in his rush.

I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure. You want to get something to drink at Granny's? Now? With me?

He scrunches up his face. Can you get second-hand embarrassment from your own texts? Or is that just first-hand embarrassment?

Umm, yes? If you want to?

He doesn't understand. Is this to be payback? Maybe she'll stand him up? Or show up and throw a drink in his face? In either case, she is entitled to it, he won't deny her that. And it won't take more than a few minutes probably, he can replenish his pasta supplies on the way back.

Of course. I can be there in half an hour?

Sounds good. See you there.

Well, this will be interesting.

Emma circles the perimeter around Granny's, cursing under her breath as she tries and fails to find a parking spot.

Honestly, if you ask her why she is doing this… she can't really tell you. She bagged her skip easily, she got paid right away, she felt good – she did not feel like going home, drinking hot chocolate alone and rewatching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. for the eleventh time. And Killian Jones's unshaven face came unbidden into her mind.

Emma's been on a lot of bad dates, not even counting all the honey traps, and Killian Jones was by no means the worst. He didn't get handsy, he didn't laugh in her face when she told him what she does for a living and he didn't spend the evening talking to her boobs.

Admittedly, he didn't do much talking at all. Or staring. She was fully convinced that the guy just wasn't into her and regretted agreeing to the date throughout the whole evening. She can't deny it left a slightly bitter taste in her mouth.

For her part, Emma was rather pleasantly surprised when she walked into the Rabbit Hole and saw Killian waiting for her at the bar. At first glance, he was without a doubt the man she would have chosen, if she had her pick from the whole venue. Hell, from any venue she had been in for quite some time. The broody air and hunched shoulders didn't bother her, she often gave off the same vibe while in public. What did bother her was that nothing changed when she approached him, saying his name. Oh, he straightened up and turned to her with an attempt at a smile but it dropped as soon as he set eyes on her.

And, yeah, alright, she didn't put that much effort into her look – just her standard jeans, a nice white sweater, her favourite leather jacket and a fluffy scarf that was probably not the sexiest touch. She'd curled her hair though and done her make-up in her favourite beautiful but understated way. She'd thought she looked nice. Apparently Killian Jones didn't think so. He never even took his hands out of his pockets.

He sits down in one of the more secluded booths at Granny's and breathes a sigh of relief when neither of the two waitresses in the diner are Ruby.

On the way here, he realized Emma might have very well asked him to come so she can point accusatorily at him while giving Ruby a piece of her mind for setting her up with someone the likes of him.

Honestly, he has no idea what the hell Lucas was thinking when she did that. He has brought his social interactions down to the bare minimum during the last few months, he certainly hasn't entertained any members of the fairer sex since Milah looked at him with all the disappointment in the world and slammed his door shut.

But Ruby has been on his case for weeks. He thought one date wouldn't kill him. He'll make polite conversation with the girl, walk her home and assure her she didn't have to call him back. He'll get Lucas off his back and go back to enjoying his coffee and scrambled eggs in peace.

And it's not like he expected her to set him up with some evil witch, he thinks he can still make for some pleasant company, even if he is neither one-night stand, nor serious relationship material anymore. But this – Emma Swan. He could wring Ruby's neck for this.

He felt like the biggest arse as she came up to him – keeping his hands in his pockets and not even getting out of his chair, his face probably doing something less than appealing when he saw her. But— bloody hell. Why? Why on earth would Ruby torture him with a woman like that? A woman who he will very much like to call him back. A woman that he not only didn't have a shot with but who probably had a line of men, waiting for a chance to spend an evening with her. And she was wasting it on him.

Her smile was a bit tight, a bit untrusting from the start, and Killian… Killian just couldn't bring himself to go through the motions of trying to charm a woman with whom his failure was guaranteed. So he let her talk – about her frankly badass job, her love of Christmas lights and her dislike of tinsel and glitter, her favourite TV shows and the first Game of Thrones book that has been gathering dust on her shelf for the last two months.

He snuck the occasional glance at her but mostly kept his gaze focused on his glass of rum and his right hand in his pocket so it wasn't too obvious that his left one never came out either. He was sure Lucas had told her but there was no reason to make the lass even more uncomfortable. And no reason to tempt himself by looking at her or engaging her in conversation when she was already proving too witty and charming for his own good. Eventually her voice trailed off and she tried to ask him some questions as well.

Killian orders a cup of tea and cringes at the memory of his monosyllabic replies to the beautiful woman who at least tried to make their interaction seem like a date.

The bell above her jingles loudly and she quickly scans all the patrons in the diner. She is not even a little surprised when she spots Killian Jones at the most secluded table.

Maybe it's partially to preserve some of her own dignity but Emma has managed to convince herself that Killian is simply not a people's person. To a degree that skirts the line with rudeness.

Again, she questions the wisdom of giving into her inexplicable desire to see the guy again. Perhaps it is the mystery that still clings to him. Emma hates leaving a case unsolved and Killian really didn't give her enough to figure out what kind of a person he really is. He told her he was between jobs, said he had no family in town and not that many friends unless you counted Belle's never-ending flow of book recommendations and Ruby's never-ending attempts to get him "out there". Emma tried not to cringe at the obvious bitterness in those two words. She is pretty sure she failed.

She could have gotten angry – she felt her indignation rising on a couple of occasions when his lack of desire to be there with her became a bit too obvious – but the guy just looked too damn unhappy for her to get properly mad at him. It genuinely seemed like he had beef with the whole damn world – she just happened to be in it. And as the evening wore on he seemed to get even more quiet – a feat that Emma would've thought impossible – until he almost seemed unaware of her presence. It was then that she started wondering if he'd ordered more than the two drinks she saw.

She was fully convinced he had when she finally decided to put them both out of their misery and suggested they call it a night only to have his "sure, love" come out a bit slurred at the end and have him almost topple out of his chair.

Yup, somehow, he'd managed to get himself drunk without her noticing. Then the bartender handed her the check – Killian already on his way to the door and really, she didn't even mind paying for the privilege of getting out of there and away from him – and she could confirm that she'd had two glasses of whiskey and he'd had just two glasses of rum. Seriously? Lightweight it was then.

From then on she slapped the bills on the counter and ran after the guy to offer that they share a cab, just so she wouldn't have to feel guilty for the rest of her life, if they found him in a ditch somewhere after he had two freaking drinks with her. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed and little breaths coming out of his mouth as puffs of white. He shook his head at her offer and she rolled her eyes – she wasn't going to beg to see him home.

And if that was that, maybe she wouldn't be walking toward his table right now. But just as she was turning to leave, Killian grabbed her hand and apologized. She still isn't sure what he apologized for – barely talking to her, getting pissed, leaving her to foot the bill, blatantly rejecting her?

But he was genuine. That one part, his "sorry about this, Swan" was more genuine than anything else that night.

So here she is.

She is just as gorgeous as he remembers – perhaps even more so in the soft light of the snowy day. He can now tell that she'd done her hair and make-up specifically for that night and he feels like something has lodged itself in his throat.

Wanker.

This woman – an absolutely stunning woman that for some reason is trying to give him something resembling a smile right now – prepared for a date with him and he repaid her by being an absolute wanker.

Then again, this is not the first time he is realizing this. About an hour into their date (he uses the term very loosely) he decided that he should give himself a slap over the head and at least attempt to behave like the gentleman he used to claim he was. But by then it was too late.

Killian tried to formulate some kind of an engaging question, to recall some fun story with Ruby and Belle but he found his mind in complete disarray. He looked down at his half-empty glass, wondering how the hell he could've gotten drunk on a couple of glasses. And then he remembered the pills.

"Hey."

He looks at her for a few seconds without blinking and Emma is already cursing herself for her poor decision making.

Seriously though, what the actual fuck? She doesn't give most guys even a first chance, why on earth is she giving this idiot a second one?

A little voice in her head tells her in has something to do with how blue and sad his eyes are and how his full lips are a bit chapped from the cold and his cheeks a little pink, but Emma likes to think that she is not that shallow. It's part of the reason, sure, but—

Thankfully, Killian seems to shake himself out of his thoughts and jumps to his feet. He even extends his hand. She takes it and watches him debate with himself for a moment – his thumb doing two sweeps over her chilled skin – before he shakes it and lets it go.

She is not disappointed – this is already going better than last time. He hasn't looked away from her yet. Actually, he is staring at her pretty hard. It makes her look away first, nodding toward the table he was sitting at.

"Right. Please," he waves in a sort of invitation and Emma slips into the booth.

Killian remains standing for a few seconds before he joins her. His hand wraps around the cup of tea on the table and Emma looks around for a waitress – she'd like a cup she can fidget with and hide behind as well.

There is no waitress in sight – she should tell Granny her staff is slacking off. The silence has continued long enough to be awkward now. Why did she do this to them again?

"Emma."

She startles at the sound of her name coming from him – badly enough that Killian looks genuinely alarmed, then confused, then worried. She is pretty sure he is starting to question if he remembered her name right.

"Um, yeah?"

He sighs in relief. Yup, definitely questioning.

"Look, can I just— I have no idea why you decided to text me."

The good thing about winter is that your cheeks have an excuse for being pink at all times. She'll take it.

"But I'm glad you did because I really wanted to apologize for last week."

"You—" she starts to say that he doesn't have to but, well, he kinda does have to. "It was a pretty shit date."

He chuckles without a lick of humour in the sound and Emma's eyes widen a little when she realizes she said that out loud but she schools her expression back into mild interest in his apology before he looks up at her from under his lashes.

Shit, he looks really apologetic.

"I know. I have resigned myself to being your "worst date" story."

It's her time to chuckle and there is quite a bit of humour in it.

"Please, don't flatter yourself."

Killian's eyebrow jumps in surprise and her smile is really more teasing than mocking.

"It was pretty bad but not my worst by far."

His other eyebrow joins its partner high on his forehead and he leans forward in an unconscious show of interest the kind of which she has learnt to read in people, the kind he did not display even once on their first date.

Wait, is this their second date? Did she actually ask him on a second date?

"Well, I know I have no right to it but I just have to hear this story. If you'll be so kind."

She contemplates him for a moment, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed and she knows her look is probably making him sweat a little under his layers. Good.

He knew Emma Swan was interesting – a woman has to be to singlehandedly carry out 90% of the conversation during an almost-2-hour date – he did not know she can be positively hilarious.

The story of her date with some guy named Walsh makes him clench his fist and grit his teeth more than once at the nerve of that man but the way Emma tells it makes it impossible for him not to laugh out loud. The image of her giving the bastard a black eye also aids his merriment.

He admits that he doesn't have many dating horror stories to repay her with.

"Is that cuz I was your worst?" she asks suspiciously, narrowing her pretty eyes at him once more.

His ears feel like they are on fire.

"No, I… well, I've actually avoided labelling… last time as a date, in my head at least."

Her brows furrow in confusion and he wants to apologize again but he can't really do that without either waxing poetic about her beauty and patience or spiraling into his tragic little story.

"But I can most certainly regale you with the tale of my most embarrassing date."

Emma's look tells him that she knows exactly what he is doing but she is intrigued enough to let it slide. So she takes her hot cocoa, leans back in her booth and waves her hand for him to proceed. She looks positively regal and he hides his desire to bow and call her "your Highness" behind a rakish grin.

He tells her about his fifth date with Tink and makes sure to emphasize the amount of glitter the girl had been covered in, remembering Emma's dislike for the stuff. He is rewarded with the adorable scrunch of her nose. He recalls how Liam came home early and he was so proud of himself for managing to pull Tink's dress down and get off his knees in time.

"So he didn't catch you? How is that your most embarrassing story?"

"Aye, he didn't really and I was damn proud of myself, acting all cool and nonchalant, all the while wondering why Liam's face was getting redder by the second. He managed to restrain himself for ten seconds before he was bent over, hands braced on his knees, laughing his sodding ass off. I was so bloody confused."

"So he knew?"

"'Course he bloody knew! I had glitter all over my face!"

Emma sits there for a solid ten seconds as well – her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open a little bit before she bursts into laughter.

"What? How—" she tries to take a breath but then dissolves into another fit of giggles.

Honestly, he is so proud of himself – this is the least he has ever minded telling this story.

"She had glitter down there?"

"Darling, she had glitter everywhere. Something about a sparkling body lotion. Hell if I know. I told her that can't be good for her but I don't think I was very credible, seeing as my face was bright red and covered in glitter and I couldn't get my brother to stop laughing at me."

Her sides hurt a little bit but Emma thinks it's totally worth it. Killian seems rather pleased with himself for someone who just revealed that he got caught going down on a freaky fairy or something. Seriously, glitter was the worst, why would you want it—

She shudders.

"Can I tell him about our date and how you were taken down by two glasses of rum then?"

She means it as a joke, she really does. She is not that upset about that, she knows how easily alcohol can get the better of you – you're a bit tired, you're a bit hungry and before you know it you're drunk on two beers. It's happened to her, she is not—

But Killian's face literally crumbles and she doesn't think it's that big of a deal.

"I'm afraid that will be quite the feat. Unless you have the ability to communicate with the departed."

What now?

"The depa— oh!"

Fuck.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I—"

"I'm alright, lass. No way you could've known. Doesn't really follow the rules of logic. He was barely 30."

She swallows. Her throat is just a little raw from laughing so much. She feels horrible about it. Yet, she kind of appreciates it – that he told her a story about his late brother.

"And, umm, just so we can… clear the air. I was going to explain earlier as well but…"

Killian is back to looking uncomfortable and contrite and she doesn't really care for it, she just wants to tell him that it's fine, that everybody has off days and—

"I wasn't drunk. It's just… the cold months give me a bit of trouble. With the… the hand. The pain. And I'd got those new pain meds the day before and I completely forgot that I wasn't supposed to mix those with alcohol and… yeah. You know the rest."

He is not looking at her at all anymore and it makes her feel even more lost in this conversation when she can't read things in his eyes. Now that she has spent some time actually looking at them, she has a clue why he didn't look at her much last time – Killian Jones wears his heart in his eyes.

And now he only chances a glance at her. He looks self-conscious and she hasn't got a clue what he is talking about.

"I'm sorry, what? Why were you on pain meds? What did you do to your hand?"

All other emotions depart Killian's face to make room for his utter confusion.

"Lucas didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Bloody hell," he mutters under his breath and for a second she thinks he looks angry but whether it's at her or himself or Ruby she has absolutely no idea.

"Killian—"

He cuts her off with a shake of his head and takes a deep breath before he puts his hands on the table.

It takes her a moment.

Oh.

"Oh."

His right hand is on the table, his left one however ends at his wrist and all she can see in his sleeve is the shirt tucked around the end of his forearm.

"I'm sorry. I really thought you knew."

"No, I—" she looks up and he seems so damn guilty – why on earth would he feel guilty? "Killian, it's fine, you don't have to apologize."

She reaches for his right hand and he instinctively pulls the left one back. It makes her hesitate for a moment but she leaves her hand where it rests lightly over his own.

"This isn't something you – or Ruby – needed to warn me about."

His snort is humourless and dismissive and makes her a little angry. She hasn't been angry at him today but it almost feels like familiar territory.

"Sure it is."

"Umm, it's really not. Do you usually ask for your dates' medical records before you go out with them for the first time?"

"It's not like I have diabetes, Swan, I'm missing a limb."

"Right. And I really don't want to diminish your pain but I'm pretty sure you can die from diabetes so…"

"Aye, but it's not…"

He gestures around with his left forearm, seemingly at a loss for words and she arches an eyebrow, daring him to say something stupid. He rolls his eyes at her and sighs.

"Well, at the very least, it might've prepared you for a situation where your date is a moron who mixed up his pain meds."

"Are you calling me a moron?"

"No, I—what? Love, I was obviously referring to myself."

"Bold of you to assume that I've never mixed painkillers with alcohol, Jones."

He chuckles but quickly tries to adopt a stern expression that makes her grin in turn.

"Do I want to hear that story? I should warn you that is a very dangerous practice and—"

"Well, I did do it at home. And kind of by accident. I mean really, I think my insides were trying to kill me, I didn't even remember I'd taken some painkillers."

He frowns at her and she just waves him off.

"Wanna order some food?"

They order pancakes and a mountain of scrambled eggs and Killian's never had a preference about how much women eat one way or the other but the way Emma cuts into the pancakes before she has even swallowed her mouthful of eggs pulls insistently at the corners of his mouth.

Then she goes and cuts the whole stack in four and he feels his heart squeeze almost painfully. It might just be the way she does it – though the quick look she steals at him tells another story – he doesn't know, but he is thankful that he wouldn't have to awkwardly break the food with his fork all the same.

Emma is in the middle of telling him about a particularly stupid slip she had to chase a couple of months ago when Granny comes out of the back – flushed and agitated.

"OK, folks, nothing to worry about, we're just locking the doors for safety reasons. If you want to leave – which I really don't advise you to do but it's your life and toes after all – just come up to the counter and Ella here will give you the key."

"Wait, what?"

Emma looks around and they realize two things at the same time – there are only a couple of people beside them left in the diner and the outside world is nothing but a wall of whiteness now.

"Whoa!"

"Was this in the forecast?" he gets up and wipes at the window – nothing, just more blinding whiteness.

"I don't believe in that so."

He turns back to her – amusement probably painted all over his face.

"You don't believe it weather forecasts?"

"Nope," Emma plops down in her seat and takes another bite of pancakes dripping with maple syrup, calm as can been.

"If you don't mind me saying, you don't seem particularly bothered to be snowed in here for the foreseeable future, lass?"

She shrugs and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand – then she looks up at him as if he caught her committing a horrendous crime and reaches for a napkin. He swallows his chuckle, sure that she will take it the wrong way.

"I mean, I don't have anything to do. It's warm, there's food, you seem to improve on the second viewing."

"High praise."

She rolls her eyes and nudges the last of the eggs toward him but he just shakes his head.

"I think I'll go get some coffee since we'll be stuck here for a while. You want anything?"

"Mmm, coffee sounds good. You sure you don't want any more of this?"

"All yours, Swan."

He goes to the counter and orders two large cups of coffee and pretends he doesn't see the wink Granny throws his way before she disappears into her kitchen.

Yes, he likes to think this is going much better than last time, perhaps so well that after they get out of this snow trap he might be able to call Emma Swan a friend. But he is trying really hard not to think too much about all the other things that he would like to call her – in low tones that do not belong in a diner or any public place really.

Ella deposits the two mugs in front of him with a smile and he thanks her, taking one and bringing it to Emma before he returns for his own. The timing – as it usually is in his life – is bloody terrible and the pain shoots up his left arm just as his right one picks up the red mug.

The noise of porcelain hitting the tiled floor is deafening in the quiet diner and Emma's head whips around just in time to see Killian step back from the black puddle on the floor and squeeze his eyes tightly shut, his hand clamped around his left arm.

"Killian?"

She jumps out of the booth and steps right through the mess on the floor. Ella is already coming toward them with a mop in hand so Emma just takes Killian by the arm and slowly guides him back to their booth. His jaw is clenched so tight it must hurt but the way his nails are digging into his sweater makes her think that he has bigger issues than that.

"Hey, Killian? What's going on? Are you in pain?"

"It'll pass," he grits out and that's really not what she asked.

"Can we make it pass faster?"

He shakes his head and finally opens his eyes. She almost wishes he didn't – if she had any doubt about how much pain he is in, it's gone now.

"I-it's fine, lass. Just need a… a sec."

He swallows, his Adam apple going up and down with effort.

"Do you have your pills?"

Another shake.

"OK, we should leave."

She makes to get up from where she is kneeling beside him and ask Ella for the keys when Killian's hand falls on her arm.

"Don't. It'll pass soon."

She frowns at him.

"Are you sure? How about regular painkillers? Somebody must have something?"

She glances back at the counter – Granny has come out of the kitchen, looking at them with obvious concern and trying to figure out how to help, and Ella seems terribly uncomfortable and a bit upset. Emma feels something possessive and kinda violent gather at the pit of her stomach and she just wants them to stop staring. Killian must hate people staring. She hopes she is not glaring too hard.

But when she turns around he isn't looking at the women behind the counter, he's looking at her, and it's then that she realizes his hand has slid down and is now holding hers.

For the most part, he would really prefer to erase the last five minutes or at least to have spent them in the privacy of Granny's bathroom. Or better yet, he would prefer to have taken his bloody meds today. But he can't deny that some small part of him, that is threatening to grow by the second, has latched onto the way Emma looks with concern – for him no less – in her eyes, the set of her shoulders when she is ready to take control of the situation and her fingers – warm and firm as she squeezes his hand back.

"I'm fine, love. Thank you," he lets himself infuse the words with all the emotion inside him right now.

"You know if the cold makes it worse, you really should've said no to coming here."

"And let you go on believing that two rums put me out of commission?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Priorities," she mutters with some ill-concealed amusement. "Let me get you another coffee."

"That's al—"

But she is already getting up and waving at Ella for another cup of coffee so he returns his focus to his damn arm. The pain is duller now, not the blinding shock that made him drop his blasted mug. Fuck, the mug.

Killian gets up and digs his wallet out of his pocket before he approaches the bar, rotating his left shoulder carefully.

"Let me pay you for the mug, lass."

"Oh," Ella looks at him with eyes as wide as saucers and then glances at Emma uncertainly, almost as if asking permission – he would be amused, if he didn't find it so weird. "That's not ne—"

"I insist. Just add it to our bill and give me the check."

It's as he is taking the bills out of his wallet that it hits him.

"Bloody hell!"

She was just reaching for his second cup of coffee when his voice startles her and her hand lands flat on the counter instead. She swears Killian is just not meant to have any coffee today. Or they are meant to break all of Granny's mugs.

"What's wrong?"

Her eyes quickly zero in on his hands and then jump up to his face. But Killian doesn't seem to be in pain, he just looks like she just slapped him across the face.

"What? What did I do?"

"Emma—" it comes out all low and gruff and she is pretty sure he doesn't intend for the word to have the effect that it does on her. "Emma, did I leave without paying last time?"

"Oh," her whole body loosens and she signs in relief before she grabs his mug and makes her way back to their booth. "Yeah, you were pretty out of it."

"Bloody buggering fuck."

He follows after her, his hand working restlessly through his hair before he reaches for the mug.

"That's pretty hot."

He huffs in displeasure but leaves the coffee on the table and drops back in his seat, grimacing a bit and reaching over to rub at his arm again.

"You sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine. Let's get back to something more important. I saddled you with the bloody check last time—"

"How on earth is that more important?!"

"—and you called me again?!"

She was about to go into some basic self-preservation lessons and the value of health and comfort over splitting the fucking check but that part effectively shuts her up.

Logically, Emma knew that he might question why she texted him again after what she herself dubbed "a pretty shitty date" but… well, she was hoping he might get around to it after another couple of dates.

"I guess," she shrugs.

Good one. Very eloquent.

"Swan, you—" he shakes his head and runs his hand throw his hair a few more times, tugging on the little earring in his ear – which does not make her smile, absolutely not – and huffs a few more times before he fixes her with a disbelieving stare. "You called a guy who said a dozen words to you all evening, got drunk – to your knowledge, and left you to foot the bloody check?!"

"Well, technically, I didn't call. I texted. And I don't know… there was a small chance that you were just being very feminist about it."

If his eyebrow got boosted by any more disbelief, it would probably fly off his forehead.

"What? Are you trying to say you're not?"

"I assure you, I'm fully capable of reconciling the feminist and the gentleman inside me and none of them approve of leaving a lady to pay for everything after she has been put through a most unpleasant ordeal."

She rolls her eyes.

"Jesus. You make it sound like you made me undergo a medical procedure."

"Swan, I think we need to talk about your choices."

"Oh, for the love of— Get off your high horse, you're not that special."

"Never said or thought I was, I'm just genuinely worried about your forgiving nature."

She snorts.

"Yeah, trust me, not a thing you should be worried about, seeing as it doesn't even exist."

"And yet here I am, proof of the exact opposite."

She leans back and studies him carefully, trying to decide if he is in any way flattering himself. He doesn't seem to be and, from what she has seen today, Emma really doesn't think Killian Jones is all that full of himself actually.

"You are a fluke, ok?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't mean it like… in a bad away," she looks down at her hands, his eyes suddenly a bit too curious and unguarded. "But I don't usually give people chances and I don't usually do… this."

She waves her hand over the table between them. Yes, eloquent indeed.

Killian doesn't really know what to say to that. He tries really hard not to read between lines that are probably not there.

"You don't get snowed in diners with strangers you had a horrible date with?"

She rolls her eyes at him. He thinks he is beginning to like it when she does that. Bad form probably but he can't really help it.

"I don't date," she says simply and the shock must be written all over his face because she shrugs her shoulders and looks away in the next second. "What? It's why Ruby set us up, isn't it?"

"Oh."

Now it makes some sense. Well, not a lot, he still thinks Lucas should've been able to tell that, even if she is pretty rusty, Emma can do far better than him. Maybe a couple of years ago but even then, he's not sure. He feels like one has to have something special indeed to make it with Emma Swan. As it should be.

"What?"

"What?"

"What did you mean by "oh"? Isn't that what you thought as well?"

Well…

"Well, no. I-I actually thought we were quite badly matched when we met."

"Oh."

Her "oh" is not one of realization though, he doesn't even need to be paying that close attention to sense the undercurrent of disappointment and rejection.

How on earth can he reject her?

"Emma, I don't mean—"

"No, that's… umm, that's ok. I kinda got that last time as well, I don't know why I thought— We should— Do you think we can go now?"

She should get up. She should just get up and leave. But she really doesn't want to look like even more of an idiot when she tries to walk out of the door and is just met with a wall of snow and forced to go back in with her tail tucked between her legs and sit at a table in the opposite end of the diner because—

Why did she think things were going better this time around?

"No. Swan, will you please hear me out?"

"Killian, it's fine. You're not obligated to like me just because Ruby set us up. Really this is… this is on me, I should've gotten the message—"

"There was no message!"

She looks up sharply. Really, he doesn't need to take a tone with her while rejecting her.

"Really? Then you have a very strange way of expressing your interest in people!"

He slums back against the seat, his shoulders and head dropping a little as he rubs at the back of his neck and then down his arm and she's kinda angry that she is still kinda worried that he is still in pain.

"I know, I… I'm sorry. Again. For… that whole evening. But I just…" he takes a deep, fortifying breath and looks her straight in the eye and Emma has just a moment to assimilate the fact that he looks like he is about to drop something heavy before he continues. "My ex-girlfriend left after I lost my hand and my job."

The fuck?! What kind of—

"And she didn't bother being too nice about it. And I really didn't need her to help me re-adjust my world view but, anyway," he waves his hand through the air as if that's all past and done and unimportant now and she really wants to disagree. "When Lucas said she wanted to set me up with a friend of hers I really didn't expect…"

He waves at her this time and she is a little frustrated with a whole lot of things.

"What? What's the matter with me?!"

"Nothing! That's the bloody point!"

"Excuse me?"

"I don't mean... Bloody hell, Swan, surely you're aware that you're absolutely stunning."

Well, she wouldn't go as far as—

"Positively hilarious, enticingly confident and a tad intimidating."

Her mouth hangs slightly open and Killian thinks this is now the most embarrassing date of his life because he didn't really mean to do… that.

"I… don't think I've ever heard a human use the phrase "enticingly confident" before."

He cringes.

"Yeah, well… it's been in my head for a while."

"I- I think I'm flattered?"

He chuckles and looks anywhere but at her as he searches for a way to change the bloody subject. The blasted snow is still falling.

"Aye, well, feel free to add it to your dating CV."

Cue awkward laugher. Take a sip of coffee to cover it up. Do not look the stunning woman in question in the eyes.

"Wait, so you what? Decided I was out of your league or something?"

He shrugs and nods and does not look at her.

"Really?"

Her voice is somewhere between disbelieving and giddy and genuinely sounds like he told her he is going to adopt a panda bear or something equally ridiculous. He gives her a dirty look.

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

She does an admirable effort of tampering down her smile but it just breaks out again and he almost can't be mad at her.

"I just… you know that's really stupid, right? And like, I have a ton of baggage."

"Swan," he sighs and tries to give her a smile as well but he really just wants this pointless discussion to be over. "Everybody has baggage."

"No, I mean like, serious baggage like…" she chews on her bottom lip for a second, obviously contemplating whether or not she should tell him this – whatever this is – and he is about to assure her that she doesn't have to when she powers on. "Foster care record and criminal record and lots of abandonment kinda baggage."

He frowns and contemplates, if he should reach over or say he is sorry or—

"But that's… like, really besides the point. I mean, I know fuck all about dating and relationships, but I'm pretty sure it's not about completing a checklist of things that the other person should or shouldn't have."

"Aye, of course, but—"

"Like, the sum of all that shit is probably what makes a person who they are but they're not just… their childhood or their master's degree or their crappy apartment or their horrifying dating history."

His laughter is more genuine now and he finds it easier to smile at her.

"You just either like a person or you don't," Emma nods, as if she is quite happy with the conclusion she has reached and he can't quite argue with her.

It just raises a very obvious question that he finds he actually has the nerve to ask.

"And you decided you like me?"

She doesn't even stop to think about the consequences, she just rolls her eyes at him and answers in her best deadpan voice.

"No, I asked you out again because of your excellent conversation skills and impressive constitution."

She almost laughs at the way his face is trying to reconcile the awe and indignation that seem to be battling for dominance inside him.

"Honestly, I just felt like I didn't get the chance to figure you out. And I wanted another try."

"And?"

"Well, I think you're a bit too complex to figure out on two dates but I now know that you'll let me have the last bite of eggs, do not actually get smashed from two glasses of rum and will go down on a girl on the fifth date."

The way his eyes almost pop out of his head is exactly the reaction she was hoping for so Emma leans back and brings her mug to her mouth with a satisfied grin before she delivers her closing argument.

"So I really think we should have at least three more dates."

(She has to go chase a skip in the middle of their fifth date and Emma is not ashamed to admit that she has never slammed a guy against the hood of her car with that much pent-up frustration.

Killian has the nerve to say it's a good thing they got interrupted or he never would've gotten a sixth date – which is beyond ridiculous, seeing as they've already made Christmas and New Year plans together – but Emma exercises levels of restraint she did not know she possessed and makes him wait until the seventh date just to prove him wrong.)