Killian had always seen Emma as David Nolan's little sister. He remembered her as an adolescent as a tall, gangly girl with boundless fire and energy. He'd been fond of her in a best-mate's-little-sister kind of way, but given the disparity in their ages, it had never gone beyond that.
Never, that is, until her return home from university the summer after her freshman year. He knew he'd never forget the moment he saw her that June morning. She'd bounded down the Nolan staircase in a pair of tiny jean shorts and a strappy tank top, her long, blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail on her head. Somehow, between going off to college in the fall and returning home in the summer, Emma Nolan had become a woman.
A gorgeous and vibrant woman.
Killian's heart pounded and his mouth went dry as he watched her walk up to her brother and give him a kiss on the cheek.
"Ruby and I are headed to the store," she said, "anything you guys want?"
"Nothing for me," David had said, "how about you, Killian?"
Both David and Emma turned expectant gazes toward him, and he realized vaguely that they were waiting for an answer from him, but as gobsmacked as he felt, he was having difficulty remembering his own name, let alone an answer to their question. After a moment, he swallowed hard, shook his head to clear it and croaked out a simple "No."
The answer seemed to satisfy them, and a moment later, Emma was out the door. For a moment Killian continued to stare after are, his mouth agape, but finally he turned back to find his best mate eyeing him with suspicion.
"Do I need to ask you about your intentions with my sister?" David asked in a tight voice.
Killian felt his face flush, and he attempted to laugh it off. "Of course not," he said in a tone that sounded false even to his own ears. "She's your sister. What intentions would I have?"
"Given your history with women," David said, "I figure it wouldn't hurt to remind you that we're going to have a problem if you treat my sister as your next conquest."
That stung, and Killian felt his anger build. Aye, he was popular with the ladies; there was no point in denying that, but he'd never treated a woman with anything less than respect.
"I assure you, mate," Killian said in a clipped voice, "Emma is no conquest. If anything were to ever happen between us it would be her choice as much as mine."
David kept up the suspicious look for another moment, and then gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. "Good. Just see that that's the case, because best friend or not, if you hurt my sister, I'll make you regret it."
"I wouldn't want or expect any less."
Killian had diligently tried to forget the new, burgeoning feelings he was having for Emma by dating a wide variety of women, the most serious of which was Milah, of course, but that morning in the Nolan kitchen had fundamentally transformed something within him.
Once he saw Emma as a beautiful, desirable woman, there was no going back for him.
Which made the incident on the day of her graduation both the best and the worst moment of his life. He knew it was probably dangerous to be alone with her, after all, his feelings had only grown, and she'd, to this point, shown no indication that she shared them, but when she came to him, eyes sparkling with joy and pride, how could he do less than let her into his home and celebrate with her?
The kiss had come as quite the surprise. He'd sat in shocked silence for a heartbeat as her lips touched his, but then it was as though the powder keg within him had been ignited, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her with the kind of wild abandon he'd only dreamed of.
It was only when she climbed into his lap and reached for the buttons of his shirt that he came back to his senses.
What was he doing? They'd both been drinking. It was beyond bad form to take advantage of her in an impared, vulnerable state. This would certainly qualify as breaking his promise to David, not to mention his promise to himself to always remain a man of honor.
And so, though it had taken every ounce of willpower he had, he'd gently moved her away from him and suggested they slow things down.
His actions had wounded her; he could see that clearly, but he knew he was doing what was right. In the clear light of day, she'd thank him for stopping them from doing something she'd have very much regretted.
When she didn't return to his cabin the next day before her departure, he knew he'd done the right thing. Clearly she regretted her impulsive kiss and was embarrassed to face him.
The thought stung more than just his male ego. Somehow Emma had become more to him than simply a gorgeous woman he wished to have a dalliance with. He cared for her, perhaps was even coming to love her. It hurt that she so clearly did not feel the same way.
That had been the last time he saw Emma, and he hated it, hated that he'd somehow completely destroyed not only any chance of a relationship they might have had in the future, but also the easy friendship they'd had in the past.
And so it was that he was both surprised and gratified when she showed up on his doorstep this evening.
Killian rifled through his drawers, looking for clothing that would more or less fit her. He settled on a pair of sweats and a long sleeved tee.
"These should suffice for the night," He said, stepping back into the main room of his cabin.
Emma got to her feet and stepped toward him, grimacing as she stepped onto her right foot, and began to limp in his direction.
"Swan! You're hurt," He said, rushing toward her, dropping the clothing onto the couch and taking hold of her arms to steady her.
She shrugged him off. "I'm fine, Killian," she said. "Just a little sprain. Just one more fantastic thing to add to this fantastic night."
Killian, not to be deterred, steered her back to the couch and then crouched before her, gently pulling the boot from her injured foot and prodding at the swollen ankle. "Nonsense, love," he said, frowning at the quick hiss of pain she couldn't contain. "Let me help you."
He pulled the soaked sock from her foot, noting how icy cold her extremities were. He needed to get her warm and quickly.
He ignored the suggestions his less-than-noble brain made about ways to warm her up that could be quite enjoyable for both.
"Get out of these clothes," he said. "The sooner you're warmed up the better."
"Still trying to get me naked?" she asked with a derisive look.
Swan, you have no idea.
"Merely trying to be the hospitable host," he tossed back. "It would be rather bad form to let my guest suffer frostbite while under my roof. Although, if naked activities are what you're after, who am I to deny you?"
He couldn't resist tossing in that last bit, complete with an outrageous wagging of his eyebrows and a teasing grin.
She barked a laugh at that, and it surprised him how much her reaction warmed him. Even if nothing else could come of it, he wished for their friendship back.
"Why don't you go do something," she said, turning to grab the clothes he'd brought her. "I'd rather change without an audience."
He sketched a perfect bow. "As the lady wishes."
Her chuckle followed him as he turned toward his kitchen, putting a kettle on to boil before reaching for his first aid kit. He waited several minutes, making them mugs of hot cocoa, topping hers with cinnamon as he remembered she liked, and cleaning up before returning to the living room.
"Are you decent, Swan?" he asked as he stepped into the room.
"That's debatable," she said, and he loved the teasing that had crept into her voice, "but yeah. I'm clothed."
"Pity," he said, setting their drinks on the coffee table and then turning his attention to her ankle.
"How could I forget how much of a flirt you are?" she asked, as he gently began taping her ankle.
"Shameless flirt, I may be," he said, "but my nonsense brought a smile to your face and, dare I hope, brought the smallest glimmer of light to a very bad day."
She glanced aside then, looking abashed. "Look, Killian," she said, "I'm sorry for being all bitchy. I really am grateful for you letting me stay here and, you know, taking care of me and stuff."
He waved off her apology. "No worries, love," he said. "I'd do no less for my best mate's sister, and a woman I'd hoped was my friend."
If anything, his words seemed to make her feel even worse. She finally looked at him, and the raw emotion in her eyes stole his breath. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that too," she said. "Sorry about, you know, that night. Afterwards...I don't know. I just couldn't face you again. It was too humiliating."
Had it really been so terrible to kiss him that the thought of seeing him afterwards was humiliating still seven years later?
Talk about a crush of the ego!
"Please, don't apologize," he said after a moment. "I knew you were under the influence of your excitement about the day's events and my rum. I knew you didn't really mean that kiss, and I wished to save you the regret any further...activities...on our part would cause."
Killian hoped his statement might ease her burden, but to his chagrin, instead of relief, she showed only a deep abiding sadness.
"Didn't mean it, yeah," she said with a bitter chuckle.
That was curious. Was it possible he'd been wrong about what happened all those years ago?
"Swan?" he asked, reaching out to turn her face toward him. "That was it, wasn't it? The reason you left so suddenly? The reason you've kept your distance since? You regretted the kiss and felt embarrassment about what we'd almost done."
She just looked at him for a long moment, and then she began to cry. "What the hell?" she said finally, shaking her head through the tears. "Everything else that could go wrong has already gone wrong today. Why not just put everything out into the open and cap the night off with some rejection?"
He frowned at her statement, which seemed to be more directed at herself than at him. "I'm sorry, I don't follow…"
"No, Killian," she finally said, "that wasn't the reason I left so quick that night. I left so quick because I'd been in love with you ever since I was old enough to understand what the word meant. A part of me probably always will be. I kissed you because, yes, the rum lowered my inhibitions a little, but really? It was because I'd wanted to kiss you for years. I'd been dying to see you look at me as more than just your best friend's sister. But then you turned me down, and I knew I'd made a fool of myself and…" she shrugged, "well you know the rest."
For a long moment he sat still, barely daring to hope. Finally the full import of what she'd said washed over him. Emma Swan had just confessed to loving him!
Silver-tongued as he usually was, he couldn't have said a word if his life depended on it. Instead, he did what he'd been wanting to do every single day for the past seven years. He surged forward and captured her lips with his own. This kiss was long and slow, at times gentle, at times so passionate it was a wonder his sofa wasn't engulfed in flames. He felt it then in the way she kissed him back, in the way she clung to him, cupping the back of his head and running her fingers through his hair, in the satisfied sounds she made that were slowly driving him to distraction.
He'd not only been wrong back then, he'd been tragically wrong. She did care for him; every bit as much as he cared for her.
Finally, after long moments, he pulled back again and looked into her wrecked, passion-glazed eyes.
"Killian, if you reject me again, I may literally die of embarrassment this time," she said breathlessly.
He chuckled, pulling her into his arms and giving her a smacking kiss before holding her to him. "Rejecting you is quite possibly the last thing on my mind right now."
She sighed in contentment.
"Swan?" he said after a moment, loving the way her hand covered his heart, loving the clean, slightly spicy scent of her hair against his nose. "Just to set the record straight, rejecting you was quite possibly the last thing on my mind back then as well."
She sat up quickly then, frowning down at him in confusion. "But-?"
He chuckled again, shaking his head at himself, at the both of them all those years ago. "Swan if I'd believed you truly wanted me back then, believe me, that night would have had a far, far different ending."
"You...you didn't think I wanted you?"
He shook his head. "I'd begun to have feelings for you long before that night, but I'd believed you saw me as nothing but your brother's friend. I thought that kiss was nothing but the influence of a bit too much rum."
She looked at him for a moment, and then began laughing, falling back against his chest as her shoulders shaked with her laughter. "Gods we were such idiots," she said finally.
He began laughing with her, before capturing her lips in another long, searing kiss. "Aye, that we were. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"
She gave him a smile, the brightness of which rivaled the sun. "I'd say we start over. Take things slow and see just where this thing might take us."
Joy blossomed within him with the brilliance of springtime despite the winter storm raging outside. "That is a suggestion with which I heartily concur."
Notes:
-Eeek! It's been so much longer than I wanted for this update! After a very productive February, the muse has apparently decided to take most of March off. I did want to finish this story, which is about a winter storm, before we're too far into spring though.
-Up next: NO PROMISES, but I have a potential idea for next week that is Easter themed. It involves Emma and Killian as single parents, a pink bunny suit (a la A Christmas Story), a badly-ended blind date and a scheming Mary Margaret. We'll see if the muse decides to cooperate.