Chapter 3: I Can't Get Enough, I'm Not Satisfied
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Emma has a stupid smile on her face when she sits back on her knees and pulls her hair to one side of her face. She drags the back of her wrist across her forehead, wiping away the slight dampness she could feel building there- though whether its from the work itself or the steamy turn her daydreams had taken upon remembering the stupidly handsome Killian Jones, she couldn't quite tell. One of her favorite songs comes on in the headphones she'd almost forgotten she was wearing. She nods her head appreciatively, turns up the volume, and begins lip synching along with the words as she reaches for the spray bottle to her right and pushes herself up to standing, dancing as she sprays down the remainder of the booth and wipes it down with the fresh rag she had laid out on top of the bottle.
"I want you, all tattooed, I want you bad…
Complicated, X-rated, I want you bad…
I mean it, I need it, I want you bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad…"
Emma is now quite sure the booth is the cleanest it has ever been in the history of her employment at Charming's. So she gives her hair a dramatic flip, rolls her hips in an overly dramatic way that feels a little too good, and gives her air guitar a few strums as she stands up. She drums her fingers in the air as she spins to move to the next booth and nearly jumps out of her skin at the sight of two men standing there watching her like she's the best show they've ever seen.
She curses, ripping her earbuds out of her ears and clutching her heart like it's going to jump directly out of her chest if she doesn't.
"Sorry!" calls the voice of the one.
"We're not creeps! Or serial killers! Promise!" says the other.
"No, no, of course not. I'm sorry," Emma says, waving her hand dismissively, "I shouldn't have had my headphones in, David is always on my case about that-" she trails off, finally letting her eyes settle on them.
Oh god. It's him.
Because of course it is.
Get caught dancing like an idiot and fantasizing about a total stranger, of course *he* had to be the one to walk in on that.
Emma silently curses the gods, the universe, any and all powers responsible for how hopelessly embarrassed she is right now.
At least he has the decency to look like he's trying very hard not to laugh at her.
"Don't stop on our account, Swan." He almost manages to say it without chuckling. Almost.
She narrows her eyes at him.
"Enjoy the show, boys?" She says, batting her eyes and placing a hand on her hip, letting it jut out to one side.
"Quite!" Killian interjects merrily.
"Five stars. Two very enthusiastic thumbs up," his friend agrees.
Emma takes a little stage bow and scoops up her forgotten cleaning supplies.
"I'll just get you guys a menu then, hmm? Sit anywhere you want."
"Which section is yours, love?" Killian asks.
"The bar," she says quickly, eager to escape the awkwardness. She pulls two bottles of beer from a favorite local brewery out of the cooler in the underbar, expertly flips the caps off, and sets them out for the boys. "A shameless bribe for your silence about this if my boss comes in. I'll be back in a sec." She turns away without making eye contact, her face flushing a shade of pink that makes him smile so wide it actually hurts his face.
"Promise?" He calls after her. She waves as she walks off into the backroom, swinging her hips with more confidence than she feels at the moment.
Killian just stares after her as she goes.
"Know her, do you?" Robin asks.
Killian looks at him and nods excitedly.
"Didn't know she worked here though?"
Killian shakes his head, still grinning like an idiot.
"You're about to try to pester that poor girl's clothes off, aren't you?"
Killian bobs his head enthusiastically, grinning as he takes a drink from one of the bottles Emma set out for them.
Robin rolls his eyes and takes a seat at the bar and a long swig from the other bottle.
"Well, at least I don't have to play the 'cheer up Killian Jones' game."
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The menus are at the bar. She doesn't know how she's going to play that off. There's nothing she actually needs back here besides a minute to regain her composure.
After giving herself a much needed scolding and pep talk all-in-one, Emma moves to the sink, thoroughly washing the cleaning solution off her hands and arms. She checks the mirror, quickly fixing her hair and slightly smudged eyeliner. Then she takes a deep breath in through her nose and blows it out slowly through her mouth.
So he's a cute guy. A really cute guy. And he caught me dancing. And singing, well… lip synching, anyway. About him. Ok, so what? Big deal. He's not that cute anyway.
Emma bends over, flips her hair upside down, runs her fingers through the roots, giving them a good shake for volume, rights herself again and strides confidently back out into the bar, grabbing the menus from the countertop as she goes.
Killian looks up and flashes her a cheerful smile that makes her heart skip a beat.
Ok… maybe he is really that cute.
He orders The Excaliburger and makes jokes about how his "sword" is definitely bigger… because of course he does. He accepts a second beer by the time it arrives, but nurses it slowly, and pays far more attention to her than he does to his friend.
Eventually, the other man makes his excuses and leaves, and then it's just Killian, sitting at the far end of the bar. Conversation flows easily and Emma eventually gives up on trying to maintain the appearance of doing any actual work and just hops up to sit on the back bar. He's talking about his latest client, who is on his second session for an enormous and elaborate full sleeve tribute to the movie Labyrinth.
"I mean… what do you even put in a Labyrinth tattoo? Let alone a whole sleeve?" Emma asks, laughing.
"Well, Hoggle, of course," Killian begins, waving his hand cordially as if educating her. Emma smiles and gives an exaggerated nod, as if she's been enlightened.
"Of course. And the barn owl."
"Naturally, and all the creepy little Jim Henson-y goblins that live under Sarah's bed."
"OOOH! Ludo! And the worm?"
"See now you're getting it," He says, pointing a finger at her and leaning forward with his elbows at the bar, dragging his last french fry through some ketchup.
"What about the baby?"
"The baby…" Killian trails off.
"You know, the baby!" She prompts. Killian has a blank expression on his face as he pops the french fry into his mouth. "Her baby brother? The whole reason she goes into the Labyrinth? The reason she calls the Goblin King in the first place?!" Killian smiles, his cheeks flush and he looks down, scratching behind his ear with a somewhat guilty look on his face.
"Ahh, well… no, we didn't actually include the baby." Emma's jaw drops.
"You've got to be kidding me! Killian Jones!"
"Well you know my client thought other things were more important to feature!"
"More important than the character the whole film hinges on?" She teases.
"Aye!"
"Like what?!"
"Well, David Bowie's package, obviously," Killian says unceremoniously. Emma sputters and it's a struggle not to fall off the back bar as she laughs at him.
"You're kidding…"
"I'm not, I swear," He says, chuckling as he pulls his phone from the pocket of his leather jacket that isn't really warm enough for a Minnesota winter, but it's his favorite and he'd sooner wear five layers than one of those overpriced puffy monstrosities everyone's so fond of around here.
He taps around on the screen, obviously looking for a photo, and Emma hops down from her perch and comes closer. She pushes his empty plate aside and leans across the bar into his space. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, whether involuntarily or not, she doesn't know, but she finds it undeniably attractive. He hands her his phone with a look on his face that tells her he's pleased with himself and she takes it, fingertips brushing his in the transfer.
He's good. Very good, actually. It's only the linework and the shading on the top half of the sleeve, but she can see very well how it's coming together and his technical skill is on full display as she zooms in to see the detail. She laughs at the placement for Hoggle.
"Nice use of the elbow for Hoggle's nose," She comments. He grins.
She swipes her finger for more without even thinking of asking permission, looking through other examples of his work. He smiles, because it's cheeky and he likes it and he sort of hoped she would. And because he's not the sort of man who has things on his phone he'd care if anyone else saw.
"Wow," she comments, totally stunned as she sees more and more photos of flawlessly executed, beautiful tattoos. "These are all yours?" She asks, glancing up at him. He nods. "You're really talented," She concedes. He smiles, moving closer, resting his forearm on the bar as he leans in, eyes trained on the screen in her hands. Their foreheads are nearly touching as he swipes and swipes and swipes to get to a specific one he wants to show her. Dozens of similar images flicker across the screen and one that isn't quickly fly by.
"Wait, wait!" She protests, trying to swipe back to what looked like a somewhat tantalizing selfie. He laughs and it's a battle of fingers for control of six inches of glass. She scrunches her face up and wrenches it out of his reach. He halfway climbs over the bar, hands chasing after her, then sits down, conceding defeat.
Emma flashes a victorious smile and happily sways her hips in celebration. He bites his lip, thinking if Emma winning means he gets to watch her little victory dance, he doesn't mind being a loser.
The picture is of him and his bandmates after their first show at Seventh Street Entry. It's a small local venue that's actually quite a big deal, especially for a mediocre three-piece punk band with perpetually rotating band members. He's completely soaked in sweat, long hair pasted to his forehead, guitar slung low on his hips. He's wearing that thousand watt smile that takes her breath away and the guyliner he had on the first night she met him, but it's thicker, darker, and makes his eyes pop even more than they already do. His cut-up Flogging Molly shirt is clinging to his skin, showing off every inch of his torso to great advantage and his ink-covered muscular arms are on full display and glistening with sweat to boot. Emma raises an eyebrow in obvious interest. In that moment, she accepts that she likes every version of Killian Jones she's met so far, but seeing him like this, radiant with sweat-soaked joy- he's sexy as hell and she can't help the salacious smile she can feel spreading across her lips. She nods and gestures helplessly with her free hand.
"Well, I can see why you wouldn't want anyone to see this. You look completely hideous."
He grins, enjoying her teasing more than any well adjusted man should. Confidence and ego aren't areas of struggle for Killian Jones, so he plays along.
"Aye, Swan," He says with a sigh, stretching his arms, enjoying the way her eyes wander the full length of his body as he does. "I often shake my first at the gods for cursing me with this puny and pathetic form."
"Mmm. You should. It's embarrassing." He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Her fingers are practically itching to do the same and it's a real struggle not to walk around and settle herself in his lap and see what he'd do if she did.
She doesn't get the chance. She freezes as he climbs up on the bar and swipes the phone out of her hand. She whines in protest and he smiles smugly, tucking it away in his jacket pocket again as he resumes his seat.
"So you're in a band?"
"Aye," he begins, taking another swig of his beer. But it's all he has time to say as the front door swings open and ushers in a blast of cold air and a tall, blonde haired man with an armload of boxes. Emma rushes over to help him. Killian surmises it must be her boss.
The wanker could have had a little better timing... He thinks, putting on a tight lipped smile for the man now eyeing him suspiciously as he hands off a box to Emma.
"Sorry I'm late," the blonde man says to her with an genuinely apologetic look, "Can you restock the well with these and run the others downstairs before you go? I'll take care of the rest."
"Yes, your majesty," She says, tossing in a courtly bow for good measure. The blonde man shoots her a look that says "Watch It", but it doesn't match his good natured smile or the tone of his voice when he thanks her.
"Emma's shift is over, but my name is David and I'll be happy to take care of you from here on out. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"Just the bill, mate," Killian replies, pulling his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and putting a $50 bill on the bar. David smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He turns to the till and cashes him out. Killian leaves a generous tip for Emma and if David has a comment on that, he doesn't share it. It's a moderately tense silence between them and Killian wonders at the reason for it. He doesn't get the impression that the man is interested in Emma romantically, just protective.
Maybe he's just a good bloke.
When Emma returns from the back room, she's wearing that thin brown leather jacket again.
"You are aware that it's December in Minnesota and that's not a real coat, Swan," Killian says, teasing her. She shrugs, wrapping a cozy looking scarf around her neck.
"I have been telling her the same thing for years," David interjects, crossing his arms and leaning against the back bar.
"That's what the scarf is for," She replies, giving them each an expert level side eye, "Not like yours is much better there, Captain," She teases back, playfully yanking on the zipper pull on his black leather motorcycle jacket.
"I've got layers," he says defensively.
"Like an ogre?" She snarks.
"Like a man who likes to be warm," He corrects with a smug smile on his face. He thinks about making a lewd remark about knowing a few ways to keep a woman warm on a cold night but decides against it when he remembers the oddly protective observer who's built like a man who'd have no problem tossing Killian right out the back door if he cared to.
"Well, I'm out of here," She says, tugging a cable knit hat on her head. She looks up at him and smiles, green eyes dancing with mischief. "You coming, pirate?"
"With you, Swan?" He's a little caught off guard by her direct and totally unprompted invitation, but he can't protest.
"Well, yeah," She replies a little lamely, smiling as she bounces on her toes a little.
Killian grins as he pulls his truck keys out of his pocket and twirls them around one of his long, tattooed fingers.
"Any particular destination in mind?"
"Not really," She replies, shrugging, trying to play it much cooler than she actually feels.
"Wherever the wind takes us then," He says, opening the door for her. Emma smiles up at him and waves a farewell to her boss as the two head off into the biting wind and the sun sinks low in the wintry sky.
And neither one of them is the least bit surprised that they don't feel the cold.
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A/N: You guys! I woke up to a bunch of new reviews and that totally made my day, so thank you for that! This was soooo much fun to write and I'm honestly itching to get started on the next chapter so I'm going to keep plugging away on this. Killian and Emma's vibes have made me totally shift musical gears from Billie Eilish to like third wave punk and ska and I'm totally rethinking the title of this fic now, so don't be surprised if I change it because I don't really feel like it fits anymore. Initially I was feeling this as more of a holiday moody thing and now it's decidedly shifting into something a lot more fun. I like it. I think I'm gonna run with it.