A/N: A huge thank-you to all who continue reading, reviewing, and liking my story! This is my first attempt at a multichapter work, and I'm so happy that the story I love creating is also loved and bringing some joy to others. As always, please excuse any grammar errors as I'm doing my own editing and quickly learning that editing is my least favorite part about writing (it makes me second guess myself).

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

(October)

"Shakespeare has been dead for how many centuries? Why are people still studying this crap?" Emma tosses the textbook aside and pushes her chair back in frustration.

"What you so eloquently referred to as 'crap,' most people consider literary genius."

Emma runs a hand through her hair in annoyance. "Yeah well, if I don't pass this midterm paper I'm royally fucked."

Killian grins at the turn of her words, biting back the inappropriate innuendo from the tip of his tongue (and shaking the alluring yet shameful image from his mind). "Come now Swan, it can't be that bad. I can help if you'd like."

Her brow lifts in curiosity, "You can decipher Shakespeare? But you're major is political science."

He chuckles and grabs her textbook, flipping to the page she has bookmarked. "And military history, don't forget." Killian winks across the desk as Emma scowls in return; he delights in getting under her skin and knows that she knows it. "And one does not decipher Shakespeare, it is not an encrypted code, lass."

Emma snorts in response and mumbles, "Might as well be."

Killian laughs at her sarcastic barb and smiles at the sight of a very unenthused Emma Swan. Her lips are pursed in a pout, eyes fluttering in disinterest, and golden locks tussled into an unruly but natural state - she's absolutely stunning.

Swallowing quickly, he clears his throat and brings his awareness back to the task at hand.

"Now, some say Shakespeare was an excellent politician and historian, among other things..." Killian's voice trails off as his eyes scan the page and surprisingly to Emma, she finds her own interest slightly piqued due to his. "Ah excellent, Richard III. Pay attention Swan, this one is gritty."

Emma rolls her eyes before straightening in her chair. If Killian can be of any help, far be it from her to stop him from geeking out over a dead playwright.

For the rest of the week, Killian begins helping Emma 'decode' the eloquent phrasing of Shakespeare. She makes an honest attempt to digest what he is teaching, but even during the more interesting tidbits, she catches herself staring at him, distracted by the passionate way in which Killian explains the plot and characters. Rather than studying about the nefarious manipulations of Richard III, she studies the contours of Killian's face, the crease of his dark brow, the roundness of his lips, the way his eyes sparkle a brighter blue when excited, and the way his dark scruff reflects tints of auburn when the light refracts.

"Love? Love?"

"Huh? Yeah!" Emma startles and clears her throat, "I mean yeah. Yeah that totally makes sense." She sits up straighter in her chair and tries to hide the rosy blush that is rapidly creeping across her cheeks.

Killian arches a brow in amusement. It is clear Swan is no longer paying attention to his insightful ramblings, and perhaps if he hadn't gotten lost in his own enthusiasm for the topic, he would have noticed earlier and drawn her attention back in. He knows Emma is concerned about the upcoming midterm, and though he shouldn't laugh at her feeble attempts at understanding Shakespeare, he can't help delighting in the site of a very flustered and very enchanting Swan.

So deciding to make the most of an opportunity to playfully tease, he crosses his arms over his chest, leans back in his chair, and plasters a taunting smirk on his face. "Lose you there did I, Swan? You have wounded me, lass."

"No!" Emma clears her throat once more, attempting but failing to school her voice into a defensive tone. "No of course not, I heard all of what you just said." Embarrassed at being caught staring, and trying to play off her inattentiveness, Emma adverts her eyes and takes a sip of her long ago emptied coffee cup. Why did she think a grande size cup would do? Venti, always order venti for weeks like this.

"Truly? Than please inform, how does Shakespeare paint the difference between Richard and Richmond?" Killian asks in what he hopes is a somewhat serious tone to mask the laughter slowly building up at the back of his throat.

Emma bites her bottom lip and closes her eyes in thought before answering. "Richard is the villain and Richmond is the…"

Killian nods his head in encouragement. Perhaps she was paying more attention than he thought.

"Richmond is the...savior?" She answers with one eye open, unsure of her response.

Killian beams at her, "Bravo love! I dare say you have a shot at passing your exam tomorrow."

Emma beams back at him, a sheepish smile across her face.

"What say you to celebratory drinks when you get your mark back? My treat for you being an excellent pupil."

Emma snorts at his sarcastic use of the word 'excellent.' They both no she's been far from a star pupil. Still, she pauses before answering him. They have yet to spend time together outside of the library or the downstairs Starbucks queue, and though they have become fast friends, having drinks together is a big step for her. It would mean admitting that this friendship is real and therefore not confined to the safety of the library's walls. As simple as it should be, she hesitates at the vulnerability the invitation implies.

She takes a moment to long to consider and Killian registers her hesitation. He clears his throat and casts his gaze downwards, his tone soft and unsure, "If you don't want to Swan, we don't have to." He scratches behind his ear and flicks his gaze upwards toward the ceiling this time. "It was just a thought, really-"

He's stopped by the touch of Emma's hand upon his where it rests on the open textbook. "Celebratory drinks sound wonderful." She smiles softly at him and Killian visibly relaxes, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

Emma is about to pull her hand away to resume their studying when her pupils widen and she further latches onto his hand in a vice grip as a thought occurs to her, "But what if I fail?"

Killian looks down at their entwined hands and turns his hand over so that he is the one gripping Emma's hand instead. He squeezes her palm gently and with his other hand, tilts her chin up toward him, locking his gaze with hers. "Than we shall drink to failing. You have been working hard Swan, and you have yet to quit. Persevering deserves to be celebrated, aye?"

He's so sure, so confident in her ability, that she's momentarily breathless. No one has ever shown confidence in her before; she's always had to proof her own worth to others, to believe in herself when no one else would. Killian's faith in her is a new and terrifying feeling, yet it stirs something deep and ancient within her.

Not knowing what to say, Emma simply nods her head and squeezes his hand in return before picking up her textbook to resume their studies on Shakespeare. For the rest of the day, Emma fights off feelings of butterflies in anticipation of drinks with Killian, her friend.

-/-

The morning after Emma gets her midterm score, she rushes into the study alcove and finds Killian already hunched over a textbook, a coffee cup from Granny's Grinds sitting next to him on the table, waiting for her consumption.

She places her B- midterm paper over his textbook and takes her seat to await his response. Killian turns almost immediately in his chair, beaming at her with bright blue eyes and a smile show casing all of his pearly whites.

"Well done, Swan! I knew you could do it!"

Emma smiles sheepishly at him and takes a sip of her coffee. As the liquid hits her tongue, she pulls the cup back and gives him a questioning look.

"Cinnamon latte. Today is all about celebrating you and the passing of your exam. Latte this morning, beer tonight."

Killian's flashing her a gleeful grin, so she grins right back at him. Lost in his smile and penetrating blue gaze, she takes another sip of her latte in an effort to quell the invisible heat that is coursing through her body, making her feel flushed. A moment passes before she gathers herself and adds, "Oh not just beer, tequila is definitely on the menu too."

His laughter fills the small alcove as he nods his head in agreement. "If the lady insists."

-/-

The night is filled with everything Emma needs to decompress. They play a game of Dare or Dare, they toast to the most ridiculous things - "To the moose head on the wall!" – they play two rounds of pool in which Emma wins and Killian claims she cheated, and to close the evening out, they dance to Chuck Berry on the jukebox.

As the evening winds down, it's clear Emma is quite inebriated and incapable of driving home and Killian curses himself at the realization. He should have thought about designated driving before coming out in separate vehicles, but he was selfish and wanted an evening alone with Emma – (without having to explain Robin's presence or lurking shadow as Overwatch).

Still not wanting to call his mate, he helps Emma into her coat and walks her out into the chilly night. Truthfully, he's not even remotely tempted to foolishly attempt to drive her home himself just yet. Though he's not anywhere near as plastered as Emma, he's still quite tipsy and needs to sober up before getting behind the wheel of his vehicle. A quick glance at his watch tells him it is two o'clock in the morning.

"Where to mate?" Emma asks in a fit of laughter that drowns out her attempt at mimicking his accent.

Killian takes hold of her hand and laces his gloved fingers through hers. He leads her down the sidewalk and across the street to the neon sign that signals a 24-hour diner. God bless American college towns. If there is a bar nearby, chances are there is a diner within walking distance. Hangovers and hangover cures make for good capital gain.

"Ooh pancakes!" Emma coos as they take a seat in one of the booths. "Can we have pancakes? Oh, French toast! What about a pancake sandwiched between French toast? We can call it Pan Frenched! Or French Caked!"

Killian shakes his head in amusement at Emma's drunken antics as he slides out of his coat and takes a seat across from her in the booth. "You can have whatever your heart desires, Swan. We've got to get you sobered up, yeah?" He reaches across the table and helps remove her gloves - (she had adorably struggled to wiggle out of her red pea coat after needing Killian's assistance taking a seat in the booth).

When the waitress comes by he orders a carafe of coffee, waters, and two greasy American breakfast platters with a side order of pancakes and French toast. When he turns his attention back to Emma, she's smiling widely with two straws placed perfectly in her mouth in imitation of a walrus, nodding her head in appreciation.

He laughs exuberantly along with her and grabs two straws of his own to do the same.

They spend two hours at the diner sobering up, stealing food from the other's plate, and playing with the food they don't eat. Emma yawns and Killian decides he's sober and hydrated enough to drive her home. He takes her hand in his once again as they step out of the diner and walk across the street towards his vehicle back at the bar.

The drive to her apartment is much calmer than the rest of the evening had been. The music from the stereo is a dulcet and comforting lullaby and Emma relaxes into the seat warmers as she listens to Killian's soft vocals as he quietly sings along with Dave Matthews. They don't speak much save for her prompting him with directions to her place. Rather than being awkward, each of them is content with the lack of conversation. Despite the alcohol within their systems, it's a comfortable and understanding quiet reserved for the best of friends.

Killian helps a somewhat more sober Emma out of the car and they walk together to her front door. As they walk, Emma leans her head against Killian's shoulder and he wraps his arm around her waist for support. With much more poise and grace than he can muster when drunk, she easily finds her keys and unlocks the door with little difficulty.

Once she crosses the threshold she turns around and smiles at him lazily. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is a bit windswept, but to Killian she is still bloody gorgeous.

"Thanks for tonight, Killian. See you Monday?"

He smiles gently and silently nods his head, taking a step forward. Before he can over think it, he reaches for her hand and places a chaste kiss to her knuckles that smell faintly of maple syrup.

"Goodnight, Swan. See you Monday." Killian steps back and turns to walk away, but before heading completely down the stairs, he stops and strains his ears for the sound of Emma's door closing and the lock clicking into place before proceeding the rest of the way.

-/-

The next morning, Emma awakes with a pounding headache. Flashes of the previous night come flooding back – Killian in his black leather jacket, rounds of tequila shots, drunken dancing, breakfast food, and the walrus straws? She turns her head into the softness of her pillow in a poor attempt to hide from her internal embarrassment.

"You've got to be kidding me," she grumbles to the grayness of her bedroom, the soft rays of daylight peaking subtly through the blinds.

Emma shifts upwards in bed onto her elbows, silently thanking God that Henry is with Neal for the weekend. Checking her cell phone for the time, she notices a text message from Killian.

Alright there, Swan? I suggest Gatorade and Tylenol, and then coffee if you can stomach it, followed by something greasy. Perhaps a cheeseburger? In case your memory is lapsing, I took the liberty of driving you home last night. Your car keys are in your coat pocket, and your precious 'Bug' is parked outside the Rabbit Hole. I had a wonderful time with you lass, congratulations again on passing that midterm. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask. Otherwise see you Monday, love. KJ

Emma leans back into her pillow, expelling a breath while blowing air up at her bangs in frustration. As uncommon as last night was for her, she can't deny that she had fun. For all the nervous butterflies she felt leading up to the evening, spending time with Killian over drinks felt relaxing, even natural. She may have had one drink too many – (blame Senor Jose Cuervo for that) – but the feeling of letting her guard down, just for the night, was invigorating. It's not lost on her that the reason she felt so at ease was because of Killian, because of the easy banter they share, the twinkle in his too blue eyes, and that stupid disarming grin of his.

She runs a hand over her face and throws the blankets off in an instant. Staggering through her weekend morning routine, she steadfastly ignores thoughts of Killian and instead begins contemplating which friend she should call to help retrieve her vehicle.

It's sad how quickly she rules out Ruby. As good a friendship as she has with the sweet yet over zealous brunette, Emma just can't stand the thought of fielding questions and dodging talk about sex in the midst of a hangover. She thinks seriously about calling Elsa, but is unsure of the young doctor's schedule. Not wanting to bother the icy blonde on what could be a morning off, Emma grits her teeth and dials David.

Within thirty minutes, the fair-haired blue-eyed prince is at her door. They climb into David's 1980's Ford pickup truck and head to the Rabbit Hole.

"So, you going to tell me about this mystery man that got sky-high-walls Emma Swan to go out on a date?" David asks curiously yet teasingly from behind the wheel.

Emma clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes. "It wasn't a date."

David gives her a dubious look from the corner of his eye.

Bristling at the implication, Emma shrugs her shoulders defensively. "It was just two friends out celebrating…" She gestures with a wave of her hand and continues, "with tequila." Emma pauses and licks her chapped lips in a habitual motion as she looks out the window. "Lots and lots of tequila."

David lets out a gruff, "Uh huh" before continuing on with the rest of the drive, content to let the topic rest and proceeding to inquire about Henry. Once they pull into the parking lot of the Rabbit Hole he makes his offer. "How about you come over and visit with Mary-Margaret? Then you can tell us more about this mystery man of yours."

Sighing exasperatedly, Emma mulls the offer over for a moment before conceding. She knows David won't let the topic of Killian go easily, and she can't think of a better way to explain her new friend to him than in the safety net presence of his wife, Mary Margaret and their newborn son, Leo. At least with Leo around, David will have to keep the incredulous voice rising to a minimum.

Nodding her head in acquiescence at David's scheming, Emma climbs out of the truck with a "Sure" tossed over her shoulder. Once in the safety of her Bug, Emma rolls her eyes up at the heavens and sends up another prayer to help her get through the rest of the day. Without an over thought, she pulls out her phone from her jacket pocket and sends off a text message.

"Gatorade and Tylenol, check. Coffee not so much, still rehydrating. Those are some serious dance moves you have there, Jones. What other secrets do you have up your sleeve? ES

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you're wondering, I did take a class called "Shakespeare: The Early Years" as an elective despite English not being my major when I was in undergrad. Unlike Emma, it was by choice and I happened to have loved Richard III.