Your Case or Mine
Chapter 11
It was pitch black. All Emma could hear was her own heavy breathing and her heartbeat, thundering in her ears. It was deafening. With fear prickling along every nerve ending in her body, making her feel like a live wire, she whimpered softly and tried calling out into the dark.
"Please," she cried, her voice cracking, "Please let me go."
"Why would I do that? I thought you wanted me to come back for you, Em? You waited years til you finally realized you weren't worth waiting around for. And now I'm here. I thought you'd be happy."
Even in the dark, with nothing but Neal's voice echoing around her, she could hear his sneer. She pulled her knees closer to her body, trying to make herself impossibly smaller as she sat shivering on the cold, stone floor.
"And now your secret is out, and everyone knows how useless and fucked up you really are. Never even held your own son. The one person who might have actually been able to love you. But no. You sent him away, discarded him like trash-"
"No! That's not...I-I didn't-"
"That's why you don't deserve anything, Em. You suffered through the system and then you put your own flesh and blood through the same. Look…"
Suddenly, there was light. She shielded her eyes for a moment, blinded by the sudden burst of brightness chasing away the dark. When she squinted towards it, she saw a window. And behind the glass, an audience of faces, every one of which she recognized. They were staring at her with expressions that ranged from blank indifference to disgust. Some looked away. David, Mary Margaret, Will and Ruby. Aurora and Philip. Killian.
Emma sobbed, her heart aching as Killian kept his gaze turned down, not meeting hers. He couldn't stand to look at her.
"They all know what you did now. They all know why you've always been alone. Unwanted, unlovable...even your own parents didn't want you. Tossed you out like trash, just like you did to your own child."
"Stop, please...stop. I loved him-"
A stinging slap to her cheek stole her breath and made her squeeze her eyes shut. She wanted to stand up to him. To scream in his face that he was wrong, that she wanted to keep her child more than anything, but she couldn't. She wanted to make him and all those people behind the glass believe her when she said she'd just wanted to give him his best chance. But her body felt so weak, so heavy and reluctant under the weight of her own shame.
"If you loved me, you wouldn't have put me into the system too."
A child's voice had her head snapping up, her eyes wide as she saw the little boy stood in front of the window now, on the inside of the room, his brown eyes boring into her, unblinking. Emma whimpered, unable to look away. She'd imagined so many times what her son might look like now. He'd be ten years old, and she wished she had even just a single memory of him to hold onto. But she'd never even held him; never seen his face or had any memories of his tiny hand grasping her finger to pull her through her darkest days.
Sobbing, Emma reached out to him, whispering wrecked apologies and pleas of forgiveness. But he turned away...
"Emma!"
With a gasp, Emma opened her eyes. The room was gone. Neal, her disapproving audience, her son, all gone. And instead she was staring up into the worried face of Killian, his hand gripping her shoulder and gently shaking as he leaned over her.
"Emma...it's alright, love. It was just a bad dream, it wasn't real. You're safe."
Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she was shivering, chest heaving with sobs as awareness of where she was finally seeped back to her.
"It wasn't real…"
She whispered, trying to convince herself, still breathing hard, and Killian let go of her shoulder. He reached up to brush her tears away tenderly.
"No, it wasn't real, I promise. Whatever it was, it was just a nightmare. You're okay. Shhh."
Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, parts of her dream echoing in her head. The subsiding sobs caught in her throat, as her heart finally started to slow down and Killian watched her carefully, concern in his tired eyes. Once he was satisfied that she'd settled, he lay back down on his side facing her, head propped up by his elbow.
"Do you want to talk about it, Swan?"
He asked softly, and she shook her head. After a moment, she turned her head to meet his gaze.
"I'm sorry for waking you."
He frowned at her words, reaching forward with his free hand to thumb at the dimple in her chin.
"Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for," he paused, "Perhaps you might allow me to hold you? That seemed like one hell of a nightmare..."
Emma hesitated, her mind flashing back to his face in her dream, the way he couldn't bring himself to look at her. But here he was, never taking his eyes off her and asking to hold her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, turning on her side to face him and shuffling closer, so that he could wrap her in an embrace.
With his arms around her, she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her own still glittering with tears.
"Why are you so kind to me?"
She asked, voice barely more than a whisper. He looked down at her, face serious, and held her gaze for a long moment.
"I have a feeling kindness has been all too rare in your life, darling. And perhaps I see past all those walls you put up to protect this."
He moved his arm from around her, to tap gently on her chest, right above her heart. She broke their gaze, but he lifted her chin and offered her a small smile before continuing.
"I don't know how to answer your question, really, love. Because I don't have a reason, other than that I care about you, and...well, I like you. I wish more than anything that you could see what I see when I look at you, Emma. And that maybe one day you'll stop being surprised to find out that someone cares for you without needing a reason other than that they just do."
He sighed, pulling her closer and holding her tight, his heart aching for the woman in his arms who was both incredibly strong and incredibly broken at the same time. He felt Emma relax in his arms, bit by bit, and gently stroked abstract patterns across her back, listening to her breathing beginning to even out.
She'd never been a cuddler, never thought she'd ever be able to sleep wrapped in someone's arms, and she expected to feel slightly awkward and uncomfortable as she lay facing him, her head tucked under his and his arms around her. But she didn't. Instead, as she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and sigh softly into her hair, she only found herself wanting to cuddle closer into his warmth, no longer shivering, with a peaceful, dreamless sleep claiming her soon after.
CS
Emma awoke to an empty bed and the smell of coffee. Stretching to wake up her tired body, she felt like she'd barely slept at all, with the emotional exhaustion of her nightmare a few hours earlier still weighing heavily. She reluctantly threw back the covers with a jaw-cracking yawn and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to force herself to wake up properly before she ventured downstairs.
Padding into the kitchen, barefoot and wearing blue and white plaid pyjama shorts and a grey sweatshirt she'd pulled on over her white vest top, Emma found Killian at the stove, engrossed in his task of cooking breakfast. He was, as per usual, minus a shirt. But she really couldn't find it in her to disapprove of that fact.
"Are we preparing to host a party of Romanian powerlifters for breakfast? Because I didn't get that memo."
Emma quipped, surveying the arrangement of breakfast foods on the counter. Killian spun around, pan in-hand, surprised by her sudden appearance, and followed her gaze to the food. He chuckled, and if he didn't have a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, she knew he would've been reaching up to scratch his ear in that adorably endearing way of his.
"Well, I thought after your...unsettled night, you might like a nice, hearty breakfast…"
Grabbing a waffle from a plate piled high with them, Emma took a bite and rounded the counter to Killian. After finishing the mouthful, she smiled up at him before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He blushed and her smile widened, amused that a kiss on the cheek could make this man blush, even after everything else they'd previously done together.
"Thank you," she said softly, "For this, and for...last night. I uh...I haven't had a nightmare like that in quite a few years."
Killian pulled the pan off the stove and set it aside, before focusing his full attention on Emma.
"If you want to talk about it, you know I'm here. You...you were crying and thrashing about, and you said-" he broke eye contact and cleared his throat, "You said you were sorry, and that you 'loved him'. I couldn't wake you at first; you must have been in a really deep sleep."
"It was my son," she admitted, swallowing thickly, "I was...it was a nightmare and I've had a similar one hundreds of times. I guess talking about the adoption yesterday brought some things back for me. I've never talked about it before, not to anyone. Kinda a big thing to repress, I guess."
She turned to the counter then, her appetite waning as her little boy's voice in her head from her nightmare came back to her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sighed.
"You know that whatever your son says to you in those nightmares, it's not real, Swan. It's your own guilty conscience, but you have nothing to feel guilty for. You did everything in your power to give your child the best opportunity. You made a selfless, heartbreaking choice, and I hope one day you'll see it that way too."
Emma grimaced, and she didn't resist when Killian pulled her into his arms, holding her just like he had the night before. She let him, resting her head on his chest while trying to block out Neal's voice telling her she didn't deserve any of this.
They were broken out of their moment by the doorbell and Emma frowned, pulling back and giving Killian a perplexed look. It was only 8:30am, and they certainly weren't expecting any visitors.
"Must be those Romanian powerlifters. They heard I make fantastic pancakes."
Killian joked, and Emma rolled her eyes at him before heading for the front door. Glancing through the peephole, she groaned.
"Who is it?"
Killian asked, having followed her into the hallway. Emma turned to face him, clearly stalling in answering the door to their visitor.
"It's Martha Stewart from next door," she grumbled, "Do you think she's 'popped over' to give us an hour-long slideshow presentation on why we're terrible people for giving up a child? Or maybe it'll be about the dangers of sex before marriage and why we're going to hell."
Killian bit his lip, suppressing a chuckle and shaking his head as she pulled open the door with a tight smile.
"Aurora."
Emma said flatly, unable to bring herself to dole out pleasantries to the woman who had so cooly looked down her nose at them less than twenty-four hours ago. Aurora looked uncomfortable on their front porch, shifting her weight from foot to foot and fidgeting with the hem of her pink cardigan.
"Hi, Emma. I just...uhm, could I possibly…come in for a couple moments? I won't keep you, I just wanted to...speak with you. About last night."
Emma hesitated, wanting to forget about the disastrous dinner and the fact that it had triggered Emma's first nightmare in years. But Aurora looked so forlorn that she relented.
"I guess."
She muttered, clearly reluctant as she stepped back and gestured for Aurora to enter. When their prim and proper neighbor caught sight of a shirtless Killian stood in the hallway, her cheeks immediately flushed bright red and she averted her gaze, as though just laying her eyes on the bare chest of another woman's husband could be considered an act of unfaithfulness to her own. Emma just about resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Please, come through. Take a seat."
Killian motioned toward the first living room, the one they didn't use. Aurora ducked her head and mumbled her thanks as she haltingly stepped toward one of the sofas, hesitating for a moment and then perching stiffly on the edge of one.
"You have a beautiful home-"
"What is it you wanted to talk about?"
Emma cut her off, not interested in any inane small talk. She got right down to business instead, trying to curb her instinct of going into 'cop mode', as Will called it. She padded across the rug and dropped down onto one of the comfy chairs, folding her legs under her and staring at Aurora expectantly. The young woman wilted nervously under her gaze.
"Well...I just...I wanted to apologize, for the way I behaved last night," she sighed, hands twisting restlessly in her lap, and Emma raised an eyebrow but remained silent so she continued, "I didn't react very well when you...told us about your past. And I'm sorry for that; it was rude and unfair of me. It's just...well, babies are, I guess, a bit of a sore subject for us…"
"You're the one who brought up the subject of babies."
Emma shot back, her guard still up where their neighbors were concerned. Aurora grimaced.
"I know. And I had no right to take out my personal issues on you, and treat you that way. I'm really sorry I behaved how I did, Emma. I...I lost a baby recently. We'd been trying for a long time, and we were so happy when it finally happened. But I lost it, and it's caused...a lot of problems between Philip and I. He wanted to stop, at least for a little while, because of the stress of trying and the strain it was putting on our relationship. But I wanted to try again. We almost...separated over it," she looked scandalized at that prospect before sighing, shoulders slumping, "It's still a sore subject for us, but that doesn't mean I had any right to treat you so coldly."
Emma worried her bottom lip, feeling a stab of sympathy for the woman sat rambling nervously on her sofa, but she had a feeling Aurora had been bottling up the issues she and her husband had faced behind closed doors for awhile now, and the floodgates had seemingly opened.
"You did what was right for you, and for your baby. I do respect that, contrary to how I behaved last night. I just...well, I guess it was a surprise to hear you speak so easily of giving up a child, and my instinctive reaction was to resent you, and to feel jealous and upset that you'd had something I'd wanted for so long, but you'd thrown it away-"
"I did not throw him away," Emma cut in, her voice shrill and sharp even to her own ears, her chest constricting painfully, and Aurora looked up at her in alarm, "Giving up my son was the hardest decision I've ever made. And I think about him every damn day. So if you're jealous of me for that, then you have some real issues to work through, lady. Because I wouldn't wish that impossible choice on anyone."
The room was plunged into tense silence, Killian watching Emma carefully from where he stood on the other side of the room. Struggling to compose herself and squash down her warring emotions while simultaneously fighting back tears that she refused to let fall, Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and stared down at her hands in her lap.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…" Aurora said quietly, clearly ashamed, "I'm sorry for what you guys went through, I really am. And I wanted to apologize for being such a terrible host and treating you badly last night, but it seems I've only made things worse."
Emma clenched her jaw, the flames of her hurt and anger subsiding. She eyed Aurora with her anguished expression, and sighed, shaking her head.
"It's alright. I accept your apology. But maybe you should put yourself into someone else's shoes before you go judging them. Most women who give up kids don't take that decision lightly. And they sure as hell don't do it to slight women who struggle to have kids. If you resent people who give up their babies, why not take in one of those unwanted kids? You could have what those women are 'throwing away', if you wanted to."
Aurora nodded, her head hanging in shame.
"I really am sorry for phrasing it like that. I suppose I put my mouth into gear before my brain," she tittered nervously, "And you're right about what you said...about not judging people. I guess it just becomes so...normal when you live in a little community like this one. Because that's what everyone does. And no one wants to be the main topic of whispered conversations at the Neighborhood Association barbecue!"
Emma stared at her blankly, and she visibly deflated, once again toying with the hem of her cardigan. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.
"Everyone seems so perfect here and you feel as though you have to fit in with that. I had this dream of us moving in and having a few children, going to their Little League games and being the perfect family. Everyone is always asking us when we're going to have a baby...but you're the first ones I've told the truth to. I just downplay it with everyone else, because not being able to...well, you can't have a perfect family if you can't even have a baby."
Emma frowned, shaking her head. She'd felt like an outsider to those who lived in quaint suburban communities her entire life, and yet here was a woman who seemed to fit perfectly into their idea of perfect...and yet behind closed doors, she felt like just as much of an outsider as Emma did. The apparent Stepford Wife exterior belied a somewhat-neurotic young woman who, despite outward appearances, seemed to be just as broken in many ways as Emma herself. They may have been worlds apart, but fundamentally they weren't all that different.
It made Emma stop for a moment and think about the way she saw herself. Aurora looked, for all intents and purposes, to be the epitome of the American Dream. Yet inside, and behind the large oak doors of her beautiful home, she battled with her own insecurities and tribulations, seeing herself as coming up short when it came to fitting in with the people around her. And she'd closed herself off, choosing not to open up to them for fears of being found lacking.
How many times had Emma done the exact same thing? How many times had she been unfairly hard on herself for her past circumstances, even those she'd had no say in? And yet, seeing someone else, someone she'd immediately dismissed as a person she couldn't remotely relate to, getting down on herself for circumstances out of her control, made her stop and reassess the lofty standards she sometimes expected of herself.
After being lost in her own thoughts for long moments, Emma finally snapped out of her reverie.
"You really shouldn't be so tough on yourself, Aurora. And maybe being like them, and trying to make sure you look perfect on the outside, isn't worth it at the end of the day. Your happiness doesn't depend on them, or their opinions of you. And you can bet your ass they're dealing with shit behind their own closed doors. Because no one is perfect, no matter what front they show to the world."
Aurora blinked when she cursed, but after a moment she smiled, standing up suddenly and moving closer, awkwardly leaning over and hugging Emma, who made a small sound of surprise and threw Killian a panicked look over Aurora's shoulder. He folded his arms, chuckling in amusement as he leaned against the dividing wall between the hallway and living room.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Emma, Aurora pulled back, straightening up and smoothing her hands down the front of her pink and white floral print dress.
"Thank you so much, Emma. For accepting my apology over last night and for your advice too. I really will take it to heart. I...I should get going now, I've taken up enough of your time. But perhaps at some point you might give me a second chance to host you both for dinner again? I'm glad you're so different from everyone else around here. And believe me, I mean that in a good way."
She smiled warmly, heading for the hallway and giving her nervous laugh and blushing again when she passed Killian on her way to the door.
"Bye, lass."
Killian chuckled, stepping forward to open it for her. She giggled her thanks, and dashed out. After she'd crossed the driveway with a wave, Killian shut the door, and turned to find Emma now leaning against the dividing wall to the living room. She sighed heavily, before shaking her head and giving a short laugh, raising an eyebrow at Killian.
"Well...I never had her pegged for being the Nicole Kidman of Stepford. Maybe I'm not as good a detective as I thought."
CS
For the rest of the day, Emma and Killian systematically worked through all the files Belle had sent them, the notes and charts they made as they went along stuck up onto one wall of the study, while the rest of the papers were laid out across the floor. Emma had sat cross-legged, with coffee, pastries and her scribbled notes scattered around, while Killian took orders from her and offered his own suggestions and ideas, creating a mural of known information and possible lines of questioning. It was as close as they could get to a conference room of their own.
Killian had made enough breakfast foods that morning to keep them going through lunch too, but by the time late afternoon rolled around, they were both starting to feel hungry for something other than bagels, pancakes and waffles. They'd booked a table at a fancy restaurant nearby for that evening, and as much as they were both trying to play it down, the idea of going out on a dinner date while having to pretend it was something they'd been doing for years, was something that they were both a little apprehensive about.
Emma had fortunately packed a few dresses that she'd previously worn on fake dates to lure scumbag bail skips, or for nights when she'd gone out with the sole purpose of finding someone to scratch an itch, but she hadn't honestly thought she'd need the dresses when she'd been packing for an undercover mission. So now, as she stood in her closet, wearing just a towel after a much-needed hot shower to ease away the crick in her neck from sitting on the floor and poring over files all day, she was truly torn about which dress she should opt for.
"Fuck it."
She muttered, biting the bullet and making a snap judgement. She hadn't worn any of the dresses in awhile, but she knew they all still fit her. She just didn't like the fact that she'd found herself wondering which dress Killian might appreciate the most. She didn't dress to please anyone else, and yet she couldn't help but wonder which out of the slinky little numbers that she was struggling to choose between would make his eyes pop out of his head the most.
Scowling, she snatched one of the dresses and hung the others back up. After drying her hair and applying her makeup, leaving her hair down because she wanted to and not because she knew Killian had a bit of a thing for it, she slipped into the sleeveless red dress. It had the added bonus of a built-in bust and a low, scooped back, and it was unforgivingly snug, hugging her curves and emphasizing her flat stomach and the pertness of her behind. It fell to her mid-thigh, leaving her long legs mostly bare while pushing up her breasts just enough to give a tantalizing hint of cleavage without making her feel like she was falling out of it.
She felt sexy as hell in the dress, and she knew that if they wanted to grab their unsub's attention, this was the outfit that would do it. Toeing on her favorite pair of black heels, she checked her reflection in her closet mirror with a satisfied smile, and walking out into the bedroom.
Killian was sat on the sofa, tying his shoelaces, dressed smartly in dark blue dress pants with a matching jacket over a white shirt. Simple but very effective. As Emma emerged from her walk-in closet, he glanced up and immediately froze, his eyes moving from her shoes and travelling up mile-long legs, over the tight red material clinging to her curves, to finally connect with hers. Her pulse had quickened with his heated perusal, and he seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Are you always gonna have that reaction whenever I wear anything other than yoga pants and a sweatshirt?"
She joked, rolling her eyes, in an effort to pass off the shivers that were running up her spine and the rush of heat settling low in her belly. He quickly finished tying his lace and then stood up, moving until he was just a few inches away from her, and she had to look up to meet his gaze.
She did so, defiantly, doing her best to act unaffected.
"I can't help that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and that you continually manage to steal my breath, Swan."
He said quietly, his voice a low rumble that had her swallowing hard.
"Are you gonna shove me against a wall and kiss me again?"
She asked, challenge in her tone, and in her peripheral vision she saw his jaw tick as he tried to rein himself in. They both knew they had a job to do but she was purposefully tormenting him, and if she was being honest, she was tormenting herself too. Because she certainly wouldn't have turned down a replay of their passionate embrace from the night before.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Emma," his voice was a harsh whisper, and he leaned in close to her ear, his breath warm on her neck, "I can't kiss you with our bed a few scant feet away. Because you and I both know we wouldn't be able to stop with a kiss. I'd have you naked and writhing under me in minutes, begging me to let you come, and we'd forget all about dinner, because the only hunger we'd be able to think about would be the one we have for each other."
Emma didn't realize she was panting until he leaned back to look into her eyes, his pupils blown just as she was sure hers were. He was still impossibly close, and she was rendered speechless by his blunt dirty talk.
"I want nothing more than to kiss you and to peel this…" he glanced down, at a perfect angle for a gratuitous view down her cleavage, "...utterly mesmerizing dress from your body; to kiss every inch of you that's revealed to me. But we have a table booked and you know as well as I do that it's important we go out."
He sounded as agonized by his words as she felt, and she nodded numbly, her body feeling like every nerve ending was on fire with desperate need for all the pleasure she knew he could give her. But remembering their job, and the reason they were even going out on this fake date in the first place, was like being doused with a bucket of iced water.
She stepped back, clearing her throat and pretending she wasn't quite as affected as she was, canting her head toward the door.
"We should get going."
CS
Fine dining was something Emma had never really been able to get her head around. As a kid, 'dining' at all had been a luxury some days. So paying insane prices to have a practically empty plate put in front of you...no, it wasn't really Emma's scene. And she was already mentally planning what she was going to order from the pizza place once they got home later, when she was inevitably still starving after dessert.
But for now, she was playing the role of a woman who was slightly more accustomed to fine dining, and carefully schooled her face into a passive expression, smiling when the waiter placed her plate down.
"Fresh ahi and kona kampachi tartare topped with tobiko, ma'am."
The waiter said, as though Emma had the slightest clue what any of that actually meant. She'd barely understood anything on the menu so she'd just pointed at things at random, figuring she'd just have to be surprised. She'd been met with the typical "ah, wonderful choice" from the waiter with everything she'd pointed out, so she guessed she managed to be passably convincing that she was actually comfortable in a such a foreign environment.
"And for you, sir. Bagna cauda with locally sourced seasonal vegetables and the house bread. Enjoy."
Killian thanked him, and then turned his attention back to Emma. She looked as breathtaking as she always did to him, but knowing how much she wanted him too, after another shared moment in their bedroom, had him consciously trying to maintain his composure as he sat opposite her.
To anyone else, she looked at ease and every bit the wealthy suburban resident they were masquerading as. But he knew her tells, and the way her eyes darted around, her hands restlessly smoothing over the edges of the tablecloth or toying with her napkin, had him hyper-aware of how out-of-her-depth she must be feeling.
Reaching over the table as she went to pick up her fork, he laced his fingers with hers and she lifted her gaze from her plate to meet his.
"You okay, love?"
He asked quietly, and her confused expression softened, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips as she squeezed his hand.
"Yeah, I'm okay," her voice lowered to a whisper, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm about to eat though."
He chuckled, and released her hand, settling his napkin on his lap and shaking his head.
"It was mostly guesswork for me too, don't worry."
They ate in companionable silence, both enjoying their appetizers more than they'd anticipated. When the waiter returned to take their plates away, Emma complimented the chef genuinely, though she did admittedly use lines she'd lifted from the endless episodes of Chopped and other Food Network shows she'd binged on at 2am during her bouts of insomnia through the years.
Emma glanced around as the waiter refilled their glasses of water, catching sight of a young couple. They were clearly engrossed in one another, the woman's foot tentatively moving over to playfully brush up the inside of her companion's calf. He in turn leaned forward and said something to her, which had her giggling and coyly batting her lashes at him. It was a gentle reminder for Emma that she and Killian were supposed to be on a romantic date, as oblivious to everything around them as the couple across the room.
She straightening in her seat a little, and once the waiter had moved away, she focused her attention on Killian. Crossing her legs, she stretched one out until the toe of her shoe found his. Then, slowly, she moved it upward, watching his face carefully. His eyes snapped to hers when he realized the action was purposeful, and as she reached the inside of his knee, he swallowed thickly.
She gave him a seductive smile, placing an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand. He cleared his throat, grabbing his glass and taking a gulp of water before leaning forward with a smile and whispering conspiratorially.
"What are you trying to do to me, lass? Here, in the middle of a bloody restaurant…"
Emma reached for her wine glass and pressed her lips to it to hold back a laugh, taking a small sip of wine. Shaking her head, she lowered it and smiled, her eyes still locked with Killian's.
"I'm pretty much just copying that couple over there," she said under her breath, subtly directing his gaze with her own, "They look decidedly loved up and can't stop touching each other in one way or another. They caught my eye and I realized...that's supposed to be us. We're supposed to be giving that impression to anyone who looks our way."
Understanding dawned on Killian's face then and he nodded thoughtfully, chancing a subtle glance at the other couple. Emma could practically see the gears turning in his head as he met her gaze once more, and then he was once again reaching across the table to take her hand.
"So, Swan. Tell me, what do you get up to when you aren't saving the world?"
Emma was momentarily thrown, her smile faltering as she gave him a confused stare.
"Uh...what are you doing?"
She asked, baffled by the sudden change of direction. He lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly, to ensure that only she could hear him.
"I'm enjoying our date, love. I know you're my wife and all, but I seem to have forgotten everything we've learned about each other over the years we've been together."
He winked and she rolled her eyes, smiling despite the surge of butterflies that took flight in her stomach at the idea of their fancy dinner being any kind of real date. As nervous as it made her, she didn't feel the pressing need to bolt from the restaurant accompanying the nerves...and that was definitely a first.
"Alright. I'll bite," she smiled at him from under her lashes, "I like running. And sometimes yoga, but only the hot kind, or pilates 'cause it's a bit faster paced, and I'm not very good at sitting still. I like my workouts to challenge me."
"So you're either working or working out. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," he chuckled at the light kick to the shin she gave him under the table, "What about for fun, darling? Are you a movie buff? Or perhaps you like hiking? I'd love to know just who you are, Emma Swan."
She reached for her glass with the hand that wasn't held gently in Killian's atop the table, and sipped her wine thoughtfully, trying to ignore the instinct to pull her walls firmly up around her. She was tired of being an island, and keeping everyone at arm's length, despite feeling safer that way. And maybe it would be nice to finally let someone get to know her without her defense mechanisms kicking into high gear.
"I like Netflix," she shrugged, "I don't know. I don't really do much outside of work and working out. I know, that's pretty sad. Will is always getting at me for being a workaholic. But I...go out, sometimes."
She dropped her gaze, sliding her hand out of his grasp and toying with the napkin across her lap. Killian's eyes were still on her, but it wasn't a judgemental gaze. She'd told him before that she was a One Night Wonder. He'd experienced it for himself - her disappearing act right after she got what she needed. And he'd never made her feel like it was a negative thing, even after she'd lashed out at him in a panic when he'd tried to flirt with her the day they'd met formerly.
"Hey, look at me. That's nothing to be ashamed of. We all have needs."
He spoke softly, and she finally lifted her gaze back to his. He smiled, and she returned it with a shaky one of her own.
"I love to be on the water, be it the sea or even just a lake" he said, matter-of-factly, shifting the topic to himself when he sensed her slight discomfort, "I was in the Navy, as I think I've mentioned before. Got myself into a little bit of trouble, because sometimes I think with this," he gestured to his heart, "before this," he gestured to his head, "and...well, perhaps that's a story better told in the privacy of our home. But anyway. My point was - I'm rather partial to sailing. I have a small boat docked on Chopawamsic Creek, back in Virginia, and I like to take it out whenever I can. It's my personal version of a Man Cave, I suppose."
He reached up to scratch his ear, shaking his head a little with a smile. She noted the way his eyes lit up just a little bit when he talked about his boat. It suited him, and she found herself slightly mesmerized. He hadn't told her all that much about himself, other than opening up to her about his brother, which she knew couldn't have been easy if he found talking about the past to be as difficult a feat as she did.
"It must be nice to have something like that, something you can escape with whenever work or...life in general gets a bit too much?"
He nodded, his eyes boring into her with an openness she was still adjusting to.
"Aye, it's therapeutic, most definitely. Perhaps...I mean, if you're ever...in Virginia...for whatever reason, you might let me show you the old girl? Take her out for a spin?"
It was his turn to fidget with his napkin now, clearly uncertain as he ventured into waters they hadn't dared to discuss. There was something between them, as they were both acutely aware, but Killian was looking past their temporary assignment, into the future.
And that future involved him going back to Virginia and her getting back to her life in Boston. Thinking about that, and the fact that he was subtly hinting at the idea of them remaining in contact after their professional obligations were through, had her pulse stuttering and a knot of apprehension sitting heavily in her stomach.
She wasn't sure which prospect was unnerving and filling her with dread the most though; Killian leaving and their partnership, including whatever it was between them now, coming to an end, with them both returning to their lives...or the idea that he wanted to keep in touch and remain in her life in any capacity.
Clearing her throat, Emma offered him a shaky smile.
"Well, I don't generally find myself in Virginia, like...ever, if I'm being honest," she gave a short laugh, "but uh...yeah, sure. Why not?"
She tried to ignore the flurry of butterflies taking flight in her stomach in response to the tentatively hopeful look in his eyes, and was thankful the waiter was returning with their entrées right on cue.
For the rest of the meal, the conversation turned to light-hearted topics and Emma found herself genuinely enjoying the evening. Her sides ached from laughing so much at his silly anecdotes and cheesy flirting attempts, and she made him laugh in return with amusing stories from her bail bonds days.
They opted to share dessert, and agreed upon the Gianduja panna cotta with cherry compote and hazelnut praline. It was one of the few things both of them could easily understand from the menu, so it had been an easy choice. And Emma pointed out that they couldn't really go wrong with chocolate.
Once it arrived, Killian scooped a little of the sweet treat onto his spoon and offered it to her across the table. Emma stared at him blankly for a moment, before she realized what he was doing. She blushed but tried to play down her fluster by rolling her eyes at him.
Leaning forward and holding his eye contact unwaveringly, she opened her mouth to let him feed her the dessert in the most blatantly erotic act she'd ever partaken in while in public. He pulled the now-empty spoon back and she noticed the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His eyes were still locked on her mouth as she dragged her tongue over her bottom lip, savouring the sweet, smooth taste of the chocolate and the equally delicious sight of Killian Jones thrown off kilter.
It was her turn then, and she picked up her own tiny dessert spoon, mimicking what he'd done and scooping a little of the panna cotta onto the spoon to offer to him.
He eyed her with a small smirk, the tips of his ears still red and giving away how much she'd shaken him up with her sensual little display. He returned the favor, but didn't make quite so much of a show of it as she had.
Instead, after his mouthful, he hummed in appreciation and leaned closer, his tone low and sinfully decadent.
"It's delicious, but not half as delicious as the taste of you, darling. Nothing can quite compare to that ambrosia."
Emma felt her cheeks immediately flush and she knew she was gawping at him, so she snapped her mouth shut. By his shit-eating grin as he leaned back in his chair, she could tell he had pulled the reaction from her that he'd been aiming for. And she had to admit, they'd both given as good as they got when it came to the flirting stakes that evening.
And the thing was...neither of them had really felt like they were playing the role of anyone but themselves.
CS
After Emma finally agreed to let Killian pick up the check (which she had only acquiesced to after making him agree to letting her pay for their next dinner date), they left the restaurant hand-in-hand. Emma still felt strange finding herself so comfortable with a public display of affection like that, but she liked how strong and warm his hand felt wrapped around hers.
They'd parked with a valet at the end of the block, so they took their time walking, neither in a hurry for the night to end. Emma shivered, the slight chill in the air making her wish she'd grabbed a jacket, and Killian immediately noticed, stopping and shrugging off his own jacket, and draping it around her shoulders without a word. She smiled a little shyly and thanked him. He took her hand again as they continued down the street, and she couldn't help but feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Everything he did, especially the small, sweet gestures like giving her his jacket, only made her warm to him even more.
As they reached the corner, Killian canted his head toward the entrance for the valeted parking lot.
"You wait here, Swan, and I'll collect the car."
She nodded, tugging his jacket closed around her when he let go of her hand and headed toward the parking lot a few feet away. As he disappeared down the slope, Emma glanced over her shoulder. The street was quiet, apart from the muted sound of laughter and talking from a nearby bar and faint notes of music from another.
There was no one else out on the street at that point, other than a group standing smoking outside a bar a few blocks up, and yet Emma couldn't help but feel as though she was being watched. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she tugged Killian's jacket even tighter, eyes darting around for any sign of someone obviously watching her.
Moments later, Killian was pulling the car out of the parking lot and rolling to a stop beside her. He reached over and opened the door, and she eagerly climbed into the passenger seat, opting not to say anything to him about feeling as though eyes were on her, without having any evidence that her gut feeling had been something other than a touch of paranoia. They were, after all, trying to lure a killer. A little paranoia was understandable...right?
CS
Once they arrived home, Emma kicked off her shoes the second they stepped through the door and padded barefoot through to the kitchen, Killian close on her heels. She'd had a feeling that if she'd ordered beer at the fancy Italian restaurant, she'd raise eyebrows, so she'd opted for wine. But now she was home, she was more than ready to get the bitter aftertaste of the wine out of her mouth with a bottle of beer.
Sitting together in their living room with a bottle of beer each had become a little tradition she'd already grown fond of too. She grabbed one for herself and one for Killian, and gestured toward the living room, holding out the beer for him. He happily accepted it and followed her.
Emma slipped Killian's jacket off her shoulders, draping it over the back of one of the comfy chairs and dropping down onto her side of the sofa. Killian sat down beside her and leaned down to unlace his shoes, toeing them off before relaxing back with a contented sigh.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Killian turned his head to consider Emma, a thoughtful look on his face. She met his gaze unwaveringly, wondering absently what he saw when he looked at her like that, his eyes feeling like they were piercing straight through to the very heart of her and yet never faltering.
"I had a wonderful time tonight."
He said, his gaze as soft as his voice, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips ever so slightly. Emma tipped her bottle toward him with a smile of her own.
"Me too. Best fake date I've ever been on."
She joked. His smile faltered a little, and he looked away, sitting up a little straighter and clearing his throat.
"Aye. Fake date," he repeated, an edge to his voice, and hesitated for a second before turning to face her, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't feel something more, Emma. Tell me you didn't feel...this, between us, stronger than ever. Tell me you don't want me the way I want you…"
Emma's mouth went dry, her beer forgotten as she stared at him, lost for words, heart thundering so loudly that she was sure he could hear it too. Of course she felt it, and of course she wanted him; surely he couldn't be blind enough to think she was immune to the electricity between them?
And yet here he was, looking at her with so much uncertainty now, doubting himself and his abilities to read her. Didn't he realize by this point that she deflected from difficult subjects with flippant comments and feigned indifference? She was the one hesitating then, but only for a brief moment, because then she placed her still-full beer bottle down on the coffee table and moved closer to him, removing his bottle from his hands and placing it beside hers. Turning her full attention back to him, she shuffled closer to him, eyes locked with his, and reached up to press her hands to his cheeks.
"I feel it. Every damn day when I wake up next to you, I feel it. When you're spooning me, pressed up against me, I feel it...in more ways than one. When it doesn't scare the shit out of me now quite as much as I want it to, I feel it. And when you look at me like that, with those goddamn eyes of yours that seem to see right through every defense mechanism of mine...I feel it. There's not a single day I haven't felt it, Killian. And every day we fake all of this...it becomes harder for me to remember that it's not really ours."
Killian gulped, lifting his hands to cover hers, lowering them and gently interlacing their fingers. Emma looked down at their joined hands momentarily, before finding his eyes once more. His pupils were blown wide and his gaze flickered from her eyes down to her lips.
"The house and the marriage might not be real, Emma. But how much I want you...that's as real as it gets. I know I jumped the gun last time and made a move before you really had chance to process it, but this time I'm asking...please...can I kiss you?"
Emma's heart was still racing, and the awkward sideward positions they were sitting in on the sofa had her dress riding high on her thighs, but she couldn't have cared even if she wanted to. Not when Killian was looking at her with such a potent mixture of hunger and adoration. Unable to find her voice, she simply nodded, and before she could blink again, Killian's lips were on hers.
The fire was familiar, rushing through her blood and making her feel like he'd set her aflame with just a kiss. And this time he wasn't rushing things. He was kissing her deeply, thoroughly, hands sliding into her hair and making her moan against his lips as the heady feeling of pure want washed over her in waves.
She clung to him by the lapels of his shirt, unable to get enough but needing to cling to something to ground her. She broke their kiss by shoving him back and for a moment he looked stricken, as though he'd done something wrong and had an apology already forming on his lips. But she didn't give him chance to speak, pushing him back against the sofa and quickly moving to straddle him, her dress riding even higher up on her thighs and barely covering her most intimate area.
"Fuck, Emma…"
"Yeah, well, I really hope that's where this is headed."
She retorted, and captured his lips once again, tasting the laugh along with the groan that rumbled in his chest when she made a dirty grind against him with a roll of her hips. His hands gripped her waist, encouraging the rhythmic movement she'd started, and then moved to grab her ass, eliciting a mewl of satisfaction from her as the action pressed her center firmly against the hard ridge of him.
When Emma continued to roll her hips, uncaring that they were basically dry-humping like horny teenagers on the sofa, her dress finally slipped up over her ass, and Killian's hands found bare skin. He groaned and cursed into her mouth, and she nipped on his bottom lip before pulling back to smirk at him, knowing he'd discovered her secret.
"No knickers? Are you trying to kill me, woman?"
"This dress isn't exactly pantyline-friendly," she shrugged, reaching for his hand and guiding it between her legs, her eyes fluttering and a shaky sigh passing her lips when his fingertips slipped through her folds, "God, yeah, right there…"
"Christ, you're soaked…"
"I've been wet for you all night."
She purred, uncaring of how wanton she sounded, her body desperately begging for a release she knew only he could give her. Killian cursed under his breath again, his chest heaving and his eyes flickering from her face down to where his fingers were pressing against her.
She knew she must look a sight, sat astride him with her dress up around her waist, hair a tousled mess from his hands and her chest heaving while breathy pleas and desperate moans began to fall from her lips as his fingers moved with expert precision against her. He alternated between sliding up and circling her clit, causing her entire body to shudder with pleasure, and sliding down to dip ever so slightly inside her, teasing her and making her try to roll her hips for more.
"Love the sounds you make, Emma. Let me hear you. Tell me what I do to you. How this makes you feel…"
"I-I…fuck...it feels so good," she whimpered, her head tipping back and her eyes closed as she lost herself in a sea of pleasure, jumbled words tumbling from her lips, "Need...more. Please. Fuck…."
He chuckled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her neck, dragging his teeth against the sensitive skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She cried out, awash in sensation.
"What do you need, Emma?"
Killian whispered against her skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her clavicle. He knew he could probably finish just from watching her in the throes of passion, but thankfully the weight of her against him was muted through his pants and she was currently too focused on chasing her own high against his fingers to give him the friction he knew would be his undoing.
"I need...to come…"
She whimpered, crying out when he shifted the angle of his hand and pushed two fingers inside her, keeping his thumb pressed against her bundle of nerves. She rode his hand desperately then, little gasps falling from her lips as her entire body began to tense up. As he curled his fingers inside her and thrust in and out quickly, his eyes locked on her face, memorizing the sight of her lost in pleasure, he could feel her about to fall over the edge for him.
"Open your eyes. I want you to look at me when you come."
He demanded, slowing his fingers for a moment, which was met with a whine of protest from her. But she did as he asked, her chest flushed and heaving as she teetered on the edge, her orgasm tantalizingly close. Another rough thrust of his fingers coupled with a well-placed press of his thumb, and she was falling apart, her eyes wide and locked on his as a breathless, hoarse cry tore from her lips. She stilled, legs shaking on either side of his and her stomach muscles quivering with the force of the pleasure that exploded and radiated out along every nerve in her body.
He brought her down slowly, his fingers still inside her, and she fell forward, her head resting on his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. She'd never looked anyone in the eye like that as they brought her to orgasm before, and it had been the most intense experience, her body feeling like it was floating as she gradually came down from her high.
"I don't think my legs are gonna work for an entire day now…"
She panted, her words muffled against his shoulder, and he laughed. When he finally pulled his hand out from between her legs, she whimpered and pushed herself to sit upright, knowing she probably looked as wrecked as he did. Her mouth went dry as she watched him lift his fingers to his lips then, sucking them into his mouth and groaning. And just like that, she was keyed up again, heat flooding her body.
"You taste even better than I remember, darling," he smirked at the way she was staring at him with hooded eyes, "I fear I might be addicted to it. To you, and the way you taste on my tongue."
"Who the fuck taught you how to dirty talk like that? God, Jones...are you trying to get me off again with just your voice?"
She muttered breathlessly, and watched as his eyes darkened even more, as though he might just be considered trying to do exactly that. She shook her head, moving her hand to his thigh and feeling for the hard outline of his cock. It wasn't exactly difficult to locate, considering his size, and she rubbed him through his pants, feeling him stiffen and meeting his eyes with a smirk as he choked out a gasp.
She squeezed him and after a few more firm presses, his hand shot out to grip her wrist, giving her a warning look. She knew that having her grinding on his lap and coming around his fingers had probably had him perilously close to finishing before he'd even released himself from the confines of his pants, so she removed her hand with a smug smile.
Shuffling backwards and forcing herself to stand on shaky legs then, Emma tugged her dress back down to cover herself. He looked confused for a moment, sat there on the sofa with a very obvious bulge, when she headed for the kitchen. Stopping in the doorway, she looked over her shoulder at him.
"Are you coming or not?"
She said seductively, and he practically tripped over his own feet as he jumped up and chased after her.
"I bloody well hope so, otherwise I might spontaneously combust."
She snorted a laugh and shook her head, detouring into the kitchen for a moment and stopping to grab one of the boxes of condoms she'd bought at the store. Rounding the counter, she grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway. Before they started up the stairs, he tugged on her hand and she turned to look at him curiously.
"Swan...Emma...are you sure? We don't have to-"
"Are you kidding? You wanna put the brakes on now?"
He looked aghast that she'd think he was having second thoughts and shook his head.
"Gods, no. You know I want you. But I don't want you to regret this and shut me out in the morning…"
She took in the earnest, hopeful expression on his face and tried desperately to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind warning her that she was already in way too deep with this guy. She'd never been with anyone that made her feel the way he did, but she found herself not wanting to fight it, for the first time ever.
"I won't regret it. I want this. But I appreciate you giving me an out even when we almost just dry humped you to coming in your pants on the sofa."
They both laughed a little breathlessly then, nerves fluttering in her stomach at the way he looked at her, like she was a piece of artwork that had utterly mesmerized him. She canted her head toward the stairs, his hand still in hers.
"So...you wanna go upstairs and have me 'naked and writhing under you' as you so eloquently put it earlier on? I also remember something about me begging you to let me come..."
Killian smirked at her words, pulling her hand toward his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of it, eyes locked on hers. Emma bit her lip, rolling her eyes but it fell flat considering she could feel the blush coloring her cheeks.
"Is that a challenge, love? Because I am more than willing to take it on."
"Less talking, more moving this upstairs before we end up fucking on the stairs, Jones. I don't want bruises all over me tomorrow."
He gave her a playful soldier's salute with the hand that she wasn't holding, and then eagerly followed her up the stairs, his heart racing with the anticipation of what was to come.