Killian Jones had never imagined himself as a teacher of any sort. The idea of standing in front of a classroom full of people and speaking confidently on any subject frightened him nearly witless. This being the case, it was quite the surprise when Professor French had asked him to be her graduate assistant this semester.

It was even more of a surprise when he found himself saying yes.

Killian had led a difficult life, to be sure. His mum had passed when he was quite young, and soon after his dad had left. As soon as he was old enough, Killian had followed his brother, Liam into the navy, and that had been bad enough. Killian had always been reserved, loath to stand up for himself. Truthfully he likely wasn't cut out for the rigors of military life. (Nor was he cut out for the merciless mocking of his fellow sailors when they inevitably learned of his allergy to rum and his liking for goat's milk.)

It all became infinitely worse when Liam was killed in a training exercise.

During those dark times in his life, Killian found his only solace in music, particularly classical music. In particular, Mozart seemed to have the unique ability to sooth Killian's demons when the pain and the loneliness got the worst.

When Killian lost his left hand in an accident a year after Liam's passing, he was honorably discharged from the navy and found himself at a crossroads. What was he to do with the rest of his life?

He'd decided to pursue academics, and he'd taken to the pursuit far more readily than he'd ever taken to military life. Following his interests, he'd majored in music and then went on to pursue a graduate degree in the field.

By far his favorite professor was Ms. Belle French. He flourished under her gentle, almost motherly style of teaching. She was the only person, save for Liam of course, who'd ever seen promise in Killian, and he was more grateful than he could have said for that fact.

And so, when Belle had asked him to be her graduate assistant, he'd reluctantly agreed. The prospect filled him with trepidation, of course, but he'd have Ms. French by his side, so how difficult could it be, really?

He hadn't banked on the fact that Ms. French would get pregnant a few months before the semester began, nor had he banked on the fact that she'd go into premature labor, leaving Killian to cover the class on his own.

It was a terrifying prospect–teaching a class on his own, lecturing for entire class periods on the classical greats and engaging with students.

And yet, terrifying as it might have been, Killian found the music history class he taught to be the absolute highlight of his day, and that was without doubt due to her.

From the moment Emma Swan stepped into the music history classroom, Killian was drawn to her. She was gorgeous, far more beautiful than any woman Killian had ever set eyes on before. Killian would never forget the moment he saw her.

She stepped into the classroom at just the moment Killian happened to be walking past the door, and she ran directly into him. Killian put out his hand to steady her, intending to mutter an awkward apology, but the moment he'd looked into her eyes, he'd suddenly lost the ability for all rational thought.

Truth be told, he likely couldn't have remembered his own name as he looked down on her in wonder, his breath catching and his cheeks tinting a deep red. They continued looking at each other for what felt like ages–although it was likely only moments–before the delightful creature before him chuckled self-consciously, muttered an apology, and then slid past him toward an open seat in the middle of the lecture hall.

There was something about Emma Swan, something he couldn't put his finger on, something special, something extraordinary. It was more than her undeniable beauty that drew him to her. It was an inescapable belief that they were kindred spirits, that they understood each other.

Killian had never had much success in the realm of romance. He'd been drawn to women before, of course, but the prospect of approaching one and asking her out had scared him half to death. He knew he was a handsome man, and he'd noticed his fair share of interested looks from members of the fairer sex. A few had approached him and asked him out. None had ever gone beyond a date or two, though. Killian's near crippling shyness had made dates awkward, and no woman yet had been willing to put forth the effort to draw him out. Truthfully, none had interested him enough to try to break free from his fearful nature anyway.

He suspected Emma Swan might be an exception to that rule. He suspected she was worth fighting for, worth coming out of his shell for, worth being brave and bold for. In short he suspected, given half the chance, he could fall in love with the lovely Miss Emma Swan.

The point was moot for the moment, of course. As he was a graduate assistant and she was his student, making any kind of advance toward her would be highly inappropriate, the height of bad form. There was no chance Killian would breach the bounds of propriety in order to pursue Miss Swan under the circumstances.

But the fact that he absolutely would not act upon his desires certainly did not mean that they were any less present. He found himself eagerly anticipating every single Music History 101 class. Throughout the class, he found his eyes drawn to her inexorably, like the pull of a paperclip to a magnet. More than once, she'd caught his eye, and he'd looked away quickly, feeling the heat race to his face. More than once he'd felt his stomach swoop when she'd speak up in class or ask a question.

She was the most enchanting creature he'd ever met, and he was utterly captivated by her.

The pull to Emma Swan was so strong that Killian found himself contemplating something he would have previously found well nigh unthinkable. When the semester came to an end and she was no longer his student, perhaps he'd summon the courage to ask her for a date.

If only there was some way to determine if his feelings for the lovely Miss Swan were one sided.

As it turned out, there was a way, and it fell into his lap in the most unexpected fashion.

One week before the end of the semester the class was required to turn in their final analysis term paper on the symphonies of Mozart. As the professor of record for the course, Ms. French would grade the students' submissions, of course, but given her maternity leave, it fell to Killian to collect the completed assignments, and so the night before the deadline, Killian's email box lit up with the offerings of fifty undergraduates.

There was no need for Killian to read said term papers, no reason even for him to open them. He was required only to collect them and pass them on to Ms. French for revision.

But when he saw the email from Emma Swan, he simply couldn't help himself. He wished to know what she had to say, even if it was nothing but a dry, uninspired analysis of sonata allegro form.

Clicking on the attachment to her email, he pulled up her Word document and began reading.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was one of the most consequential composers in all of Western music. He wrote some fifty-odd symphonies, and he raised the form to heights not previously seen. His symphonies were…

Here she trailed off. Killian took a sip of his goat's milk as he curiously moved to her next paragraph–and promptly choked.

Alright, let's be real. How am I supposed to concentrate on Mozart, symphonies, or, well, anything in class when it's being taught by Killian Sex-On-Legs Jones? Seriously, the man is a menace to society with his gorgeous…everything.

Killian pinched himself–actually pinched himself, thinking he must have fallen asleep. This couldn't be real, could it?

And yet the contents of Emma Swan's analysis paper did not change after his pinch. In fact, as she went on and on, she only became more descriptive, more lurid, more poetic. If there'd ever been any doubt in his mind whether or not his feelings for Swan were requited, those doubts were definitively put to rest by the many, many words on this page.

She was every bit as captivated by him as he was by her.

Killian continued reading, seeing himself through her eyes–not the bumbling, awkward, perhaps cowardly man he saw when he looked in the mirror, but rather a handsome, desirable man filled with a wit and intelligence Swan found delightful.

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to kiss him, to grab him by the lapels and slam my lips to his, our lips smacking, our tongues tangling as the kiss drags on and on,. I imagine cupping the back of his head, feeling the silky slide of his hair against my hands as I pull him even closer. I imagine we're pressed so close, I can feel his moans in his chest as he loses control every bit as much as I do. I imagine him pulling his mouth free, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against mine…and then slowly, passionately kissing his way down the column of my neck, my collarbone….

As she continued with her very detailed imaginings, Killian found it difficult to breathe. Well, this was…this was…

There were no words.

All Killian knew for sure was that he'd never wanted anyone or anything as much as he wanted to make Emma Swan's imagined scenario a reality.

By the time he'd finished reading her entire analysis, Killian found himself in need of a cold and bracing shower.

It was quite obvious that this paper had been submitted by mistake–after all, Swan knew full well the term papers would be graded by Ms. French. Still, he couldn't find himself any less than delighted to have this insight into Swan's feelings.

How exactly he would survive class tomorrow without turning as red as a beet every time he looked in her general direction, he didn't know, but it was an embarrassment he was very much willing to bear.

Notes:

–So, hopefully it was obvious from context clues, but the version of Killian I decided to use for this particular AU was the Killian from the Author's AU in the season 4 finale. Don't get me wrong; I love writing flirty, innuendo-driven Killian, but there's something so delightfully endearing about the frightened-of-his-own-shadow lieutenant that we got in Rumple's warped version of reality. I loved the idea of writing Emma and Killian's first meeting in this au to reflect their first meeting in the author's AU. That was such a good moment in canon!

–Up next: Okay, we've seen the lead up from both Emma and Killian's perspectives. Now it's time for them to actually deal with the aftermath. Will Emma contact Killian about the elephant in the room? When the course is over in a week, will Killian find the courage to ask her out? Will they end up living happily ever after? (Duh, obviously!)