"Morning, sunshine!"
Killian startled awake and sat bolt upright. It took a moment for his racing heart to calm, and when it did, his eyes landed first on the piano in the corner of the room. Memories from the night before came flooding back to him; he'd spent the evening with Emma, eating pizza and snacking on the last of the food from their picnic basket while they watched French dramas and created fantastical backstories for the episodes they had missed. He didn't remember falling asleep on the sofa, but given that the sun was now beginning to stream in through the open drapes, he assumed he must have.
"Morning," he croaked out, swinging his legs around to rest his feet against the floor as he stretched out his aching muscles. It hadn't been the most uncomfortable night's sleep he'd ever had, but it certainly wasn't the best either. "What, um… what time is it?"
"A little after eight," Emma chuckled, as she made her way around the back of the sofa to set a tall glass of orange juice on the coffee table in front of him. "I figured I should wake you up. I don't want you to resent me for letting you sleep through your last full day in the country."
Killian reached for the drink and swallowed down a large gulp before he said, "I wouldn't ever resent you for that, Emma."
His friend offered him a small smile and then slipped out of the room, presumably to head back through to the kitchen.
After taking a moment to straight out the couch and pick up the blanket he'd thrown off himself when he'd sat up, Killian followed her through to find her standing beside the counter containing a small coffee machine.
"I, um… I should probably head home and take a shower," he said, shattering the somewhat awkward silence that had filled the room. "But I could come back," he offered, and Emma finally turned away from the machine to look his way. "I could bring breakfast with me. You probably shouldn't move around too much on that ankle today."
Emma's eyes flicked down to the ankle she'd injured the day before, and for a moment, Killian worried that she'd send him away or that she would say she was fine and didn't need him to worry about her. But instead, she raised her head and gave him a firm nod.
"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."
Killian offered her a wide smile and nodded his head a couple of times before he hooked his thumb over his shoulder and said, "I'll um… I guess I'll see you in about an hour?"
"That should give me plenty of time to wash my hair," she chuckled, flicking her braid over her shoulder as she did.
Killian laughed at her actions and then forced himself to turn on his heels and head back down the hallway towards the front door. Emma didn't follow him out, but he thought that might have been for the best. He wasn't sure he could have forced himself to go if she had.
The walk home felt a little surreal. He still couldn't quite believe that he'd fallen asleep on Emma Swan's couch. Hopefully, the fact that she hadn't immediately kicked him out of the house that morning meant that he hadn't done anything to make a complete fool of himself. None of his staff had ever mentioned him snoring or talking in his sleep, and, with any luck, he hadn't randomly developed either infliction while he'd been on vacation.
Back in the quiet comfort of his own home, Killian kicked off his shoes and took the stairs two at a time to get to the bathroom. The warm water of the shower felt so good against the ache in his muscles, and he found himself standing under the stream for much longer than he had planned before finally reaching for his favorite body wash.
Feeling more refreshed, he turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and began drying himself off. Wiping the mirror clear of condensation, Killian contemplated shaving for a moment before he dismissed the idea and reached for his toothbrush instead. Emma still hadn't given any indication that she didn't like the stubble he'd been growing, and he didn't want to waste precious time with her on needless tasks.
Back inside his bedroom, Killian pulled out a pair of dark wash jeans and a soft black sweater before he began rooting through the drawers for clean underwear. After carefully dressing and running a comb through his hair, he grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone once more before jogging back down the stairs and straight out of the front door.
Although it was slightly later than he'd usually visit, the small café wasn't overly busy, and Carlos called out hello the moment Killian stepped onto the property.
"Morning, Carlos," he called back, following the server across the deck and into the building before he took a seat at the bar. "I was wondering if it would be possible to get breakfast to go this morning?" he asked, before the younger man could reach for one of the menus.
"Of course. You're busy with work?" Carlos asked.
"I should be," Killian chuckled, "But I'm not. Emma had a fall yesterday afternoon, so I wanted to take the food to her instead of making her hobble her way to it."
"That's a good plan," Carlos assured him, before disappearing into the kitchen.
Killian used the time it took Carlos and his father to prepare breakfast to check his flight details for the following day and send a message to August with his estimated time of arrival back in New York City. Then he scrolled through all of the emails he'd been studiously ignoring since he'd left the office. Most were just promotional deals for his favorite takeout brands or coupons from the local grocery store, but there was the occasional work-related message that he marked for reading on the flight back home.
Carlos finally emerged ten minutes later with another picnic basket in his hands and a big smile on his face. "Here you go," he said, setting the basket down onto the bar.
"Thanks, Carlos. I'll run these baskets back to you later today," Killian promised, reaching into his pocket to pull out a handful of Euros. He knew he was overpaying for the food, but the service he'd received from Carlos and his family was more than deserving of the generous tips he'd been leaving behind.
"Don't worry about it," Carlos said, waving away his offer. "My dad owns the homes you're renting. We can collect them when you leave."
"Your dad's the man I emailed about the house?" Killian asked, stunned by this sudden revelation.
"Yes."
"Does Emma know?"
"Yes," Carlos chuckled. "Papa told her the first night she visited."
"Huh."
Killian set the cash down onto the counter and lifted the basket off. He muttered a distracted goodbye and then began the walk back to Emma's home, wondering why nobody had ever said anything to him about his landlord's identity.
He was only a couple of houses away from her place when the sound of music reached his ears. Killian's steps faltered the instant he recognized it as piano music before he began moving faster towards Emma's house. He hesitated briefly outside the door before reaching for the handle and twisting it. The piece of wood swung open on its hinges, and the music from inside suddenly became much louder.
"Emma?" he called out, hoping that she would hear him over the piano and not be startled by his sudden presence inside her home. However, the music continued to flow, and Killian found himself softly pushing the door closed behind himself before he took the three steps necessary to enter the living room.
Emma was sitting on the piano bench, her fingers flying effortlessly over the keys as she stared out of the window to her left at the view it offered of the surrounding mountains. Killian was completely mesmerized by the easiness with which she played. He'd been blessed to see a fair few artists perform live before, but he'd never seen any of them look so comfortable behind an instrument. He wasn't even sure he'd ever seen any of them perform so flawlessly without looking down at the keys they were pressing.
Then, all of a sudden, the song changed. It morphed from something vaguely recognizable into something new - something Killian had never heard before. He was just considering announcing his presence again when something else joined the tune played by the piano.
Emma's voice wove perfectly with the melody she had crafted and the lyrics she had written to paint a beautiful - if slightly haunting - picture of the story she was telling. Killian had never heard anything like it before. He was so caught up in the passion and emotion behind her song that it took him a long moment to notice that the music had stopped, and Emma was no longer staring out of the window. Instead, all of her focus was now on him.
"Sorry. I, uh –"
"It's fine," she assured him. "I knew you were here. You wanted to listen to me play so…"
"It was beautiful," he told her, because she had to know that. "It was… you should record that. It's better than ninety percent of the music that charts these days."
Emma chuckled softly as she stood from the bench, pulled the lid down over the keys, and then made her way towards the basket of breakfast foods. "Thanks, but –"
"I'm serious, Emma. It was a beautiful song. I don't know the music industry well, but I can reach out to a few friends and see if I can find a contact for you if you'd like? I have a friend who –"
Killian only fell silent when Emma's hand came up to cover his lips, and he froze instantly under her touch.
"Thank you for the offer, but you're a little late," she told him. "As it happens, Cambridge University has a music department with some well-connected donors. I signed a recording contract in April. It's why I'm here. It's why I can afford to be here. The label gave me a signing fee to help me out a little. That way, I wouldn't have to continue working while studying. I decided to use some of it to treat myself to my very first holiday."
"You're recording it?" he asked, a little dumbstruck by her revelation.
"Don't look so surprised. I thought you said it was good?"
"Oh, it is," he hurried to reassure her.
Emma picked up the breakfast basket and tucked it into the crook of her arm before she made her way through to the kitchen with Killian trailing behind her.
"I just know how hard it can be to break into the industry," he continued. "I'm glad you've been given that chance, Emma."
Emma pulled out a large mug of her favorite coffee and a glass bottle of orange juice, which she set down in the middle of the small table. "Plates are behind you," she instructed, before adding, "And thanks. I just need to try my hardest not to blow it now."
Killian helped her set the table for two and unpack the bread, pastries, cheeses, and fruits Carlos had sent them for breakfast. "Trust me," he told her, "If the rest of your music is even a fraction as good as what you just played for me, you have absolutely nothing to worry about."
Emma offered him a shy smile and took her seat at the table. "Thanks," she said. "It's nice to have someone in my life who actually believes in me for a change - even if said person is a little biased."
Killian snorted out a laugh of his own as he began preparing his meal to his liking. "Well, if it helps, you will always have me on your side," he promised, lifting his head to meet and hold her gaze. "Team Emmy, woo!" he cheered, waving his arms through the air.
Emma's bark of laughter was incredibly un-lady-like and absolutely beautiful.
After clearing away from breakfast, Killian and Emma made their way to the lounge once more. Emma had suggested taking a walk, given that it was Killian's last full day in the country, but he'd quickly shot the idea down. While she didn't appear to be moving awkwardly on her ankle so far, he didn't want to risk them needing a trip to the emergency room because she'd pushed herself too far. So instead of heading out, the two new friends settled themselves in the lounge to trade facts about themselves.
By the time Killian's tummy started to rumble with hunger once more, he'd learned that as a child, Emma had been moved to four different counties in England before she'd eventually aged out of the system in Cambridgeshire. He'd learned that her favorite food was Chinese food and that while she enjoyed a nice bottle of wine with her meals, coffee was still her favorite beverage. She'd told him about what she'd learned since starting college, including the life lessons that had finally come with truly independent living, and she had listened as he'd spoken about his own experiences at Yale many years ago.
While it might not have seemed like much to many people, Killian enjoyed listening to her stories, and he enjoyed sharing his own. Many of the people in his life either didn't care enough about him to want to listen, or they had heard his stories before. It was nice to meet someone who genuinely enjoyed hearing the little anecdotes he had that weren't all related to his job. And he got the impression that Emma appreciated just talking about herself to someone who wanted to listen to her.
For dinner that evening, Emma called one of the restaurants at the edge of the village to order some tapas and then pulled out a fresh bottle of white wine for herself and a bottle of sparkling grape juice for her companion.
"Are you sure you don't want some?" she asked, as Killian busied himself with spreading their meal over the coffee table while she uncorked the bottle of wine. "I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into drinking alcohol, but I also don't want you to think I'm being rude by not offering you any."
Killian chuckled as he settled himself back into the side of the sofa that he was rapidly starting to think of as his own. "I don't think you're being rude, but… pour me a little," he told her. "I guess if you're making me try new foods on this trip, I should at least try a few new drinks too."
Emma did as he asked and then recorked the bottle before she handed him a glass.
"To new friendships," she offered, holding up her own.
Killian tapped his glass to hers and echoed the sentiment before he took a small sip of the liquid inside – and then shuddered violently.
"Oh dear god, that's awful," he spluttered, as he set the glass back down on the table, casting it a look like it had personally offended him.
Beside him, Emma was trying – and failing – to hold back her giggles.
"It's not funny. That is the most disgusting thing I've ever put in my mouth," he told her, as he reached for the half-empty bottle of water on the side table to rinse out his mouth. "How do you drink that stuff?"
Emma shrugged her shoulders, said, "You kinda get used to it," and then took a deep sip from her glass before smacking her lips in appreciation.
"If I'm not used to it by the next sip, I'm not having any more!"
"That seems fair," she teased.
Killian reached for one of the grilled shrimp and quickly removed its head. When Emma opened her mouth again to say something he was certain would involve mocking his lack of tolerance for alcohol, he quickly peeled off the shell and then stuffed the whole thing inside her mouth.
"Eat your shrimp and be quiet," he told her, turning his back to her in mock-offense.
"Yes, Sir," she mumbled around the mouthful of seafood she was attempting to chew and swallow.
"You know, I think I just might miss you when you board that flight home tomorrow," Emma sighed, as she reached for the almost-empty bottle of wine on the table and tipped the last of it into her glass.
Killian had managed to finish his own glass but had been more than happy to switch to sparkling juice after that. He was sure he could still feel the burn of the alcohol down the back of his throat.
"You might?" he challenged, shifting in his seat to get a better view of her.
"Eh, I'm a busy woman."
Killian snorted out a laugh as he watched her drain her glass in one and then fall back heavily against the sofa cushions. He was pretty sure the wine was affecting him more than it was her, but he could see a small pink tinge in her cheeks that hadn't been there an hour earlier.
"Well, for what it's worth, I'm definitely gonna miss you," he told her, sounding far more serious than he'd intended.
"Oh, really?" she asked. "And what exactly will you miss the most, Mr. Jones?"
There were a whole host of answers Killian could have given to that question. In the short time he'd known her, he had come to appreciate many of Emma's qualities. Her wicked sense of humor and her unique sense of style. Her ability to hold an intelligent conversation with those much older and much more experienced than herself. He loved the way she listened to everything you had to say, instead of just nodding along and allowing her mind to drift. Then there was her compassion for those around her. The way she could strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone was awe-inspiring to him. Her inability to function without coffee in the mornings and the way she seemed to stay up late yet, wake up early the following day – all without ever grumbling about a lack of sleep - was absolutely adorable. He would miss how she would randomly start humming odd tunes to herself throughout the day, and while he'd only heard it once, he knew he would miss her incredible songwriting skills and piano playing abilities. But most of all, Killian felt like he would miss the way she always seemed to surprise him. And yet, for some strange reason, instead of voicing one of those normal answers, he found himself saying, "Well, you're kind of easy on the eye. I'm gonna miss having someone so pretty to look at all day."
He'd expected Emma to snort out a laugh – but she didn't. Instead, she tilted her head slightly to one side to study him carefully. Killian didn't much like that feeling of being examined on a microscopic level. It made him second-guess everything he'd said and done all day. So instead of watching her watch him, Killian picked up his glass of sparkling juice and drained it all in one gulp. The bubbles caused a kind of tickling sensation that made him want to cough, but he did his best to stifle that urge. The last thing he wanted to do was make himself look stupid – after making himself sound like a pervert.
When he finally settled back in his seat and worked up the courage to chance a glance at Emma, he found that she'd twisted around with her legs folded beneath her so she could see him far more clearly.
"What?" he eventually asked, unable to take her silent examination any longer.
"I'm just wondering… if I'm so pretty, why haven't you kissed me yet?"
Killian suddenly wished there was more food he could stuff into his mouth to avoid answering her question. He cast his gaze around the room instead, searching for some kind of topic to distract himself and Emma with, but he was suddenly coming up completely empty. All of his years of education at some of the best schools America had to offer felt like a complete waste of time and money - because all he could think about was the way that Emma's tongue had darted out to swipe across her lower lip after she'd asked her question.
"Does the thought of kissing me make you uncomfortable?" she asked, and Killian snapped all of his focus back up to her eyes.
"No! God, no! It's not that it's just –"
"The age gap?"
"No. Yes. I, uh… I couldn't care less about that, but you know other people will. I just um…" He scraped his hand roughly down his face as he tried to think of a way to word every thought and feeling currently flooding his mind. There were a million reasons why he shouldn't want this – why he shouldn't want her – and yet, as he sat there that evening, watching Emma watch him so intently, Killian knew there was nothing he wanted more in the world.
"Emma, you um… you live in London –"
"I don't live in London," she chuckled, talking straight over his concerns. "When you've finished this train of thought, we should probably have a conversation about how there are other cities in the UK besides London."
"Shut up," he threw back at her, and Emma offered him a cheeky grin in response. "What I was trying to say is that we live thousands of miles apart. You're young. Beautiful. Intelligent. You could have any man you want. So why would you want a relationship with one who doesn't even live in the same country as you?"
Emma nodded her head for a moment before she pushed herself up to her knees and shuffled a little closer to him. "Killian," she began slowly, "I appreciate your concern, but what I want is to fuck you, not to date you. Contrary to popular belief, the two can be mutually exclusive."
Before he could splutter out a response, she added, "I know you find me attractive. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking. And in case I haven't made it clear, I think you're pretty hot too. So –" She pushed herself up to her feet so fast that Killian started and fell back against the sofa cushions. "If you wanna do something about that before we both leave France –" She reached down for the hem of the shirt she was wearing and pulled the garment up and over her head in one fluid move, revealing a delicate pale purple lace camisole underneath.
Killian watched as the cotton shirt in her hand floated gracefully to the floor before he finally allowed his gaze to settle on her newly exposed lingerie.
"I'll be upstairs waiting," she explained, making her way towards the hallway door. "And if not –" She paused for a brief moment to pop the button on her denim shorts and shimmy the fabric down her legs before she kicked it aside and crossed the threshold of the room. "Let's just say I bought a few things in Paris that will keep me company instead."
She was gone from the room before Killian even had the time to process what she'd said. Instead, his mind was stuck on the soft, innocent design of the lavender lace that covered her ass and breasts. It was a complete contradiction to the confident and sexy way in which she'd bared herself to him.
After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Killian decided that he needed to see more of that lace and finally pushed himself up to his feet. He took a moment to check the front door was locked, toed off his sneakers by the foot of the staircase, and then began to climb the steps.
At the top, he found the lacy camisole Emma had been wearing under her shirt draped across the banister. Killian snatched the delicate piece of fabric from the beam and held it tightly in his hands for a moment before lifting it to his face. It smelled faintly of some sort of flower – something he couldn't name and something he knew he would associate with Emma for the rest of his life.
Keeping the garment clutched tightly in his hands, he lifted his head to scan the hallway. Two of the doors on the upper floor were wide open, while the other two were shut tight. Killian had already guessed which one Emma would be hiding behind, based on the layout of his own holiday home, but the purple lace panties hanging from one of the doors handles removed any lingering doubts.
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