(Just a caution: I don't do a whole lot of AUs – my long Witness Protection fic I'm working on aside – but this idea entered my brain, and I just needed to try it. Emma and Killian are in our everyday, non-magic, modern world as a waitress and cook at a diner. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think if you wish, especially since I don't write them in such different scenario very often.)

"Along with the Song in my Soul"

Murmured conversations, the clink of silverware against china, occasional bursts of raucous laughter and the sound of orders being called from the kitchen in back surround her as they always do on a busy Friday night. No one would confuse this dive with its worn pool table and outdated jukebox in the side room as a classy joint, but the food is good, the open mic brings in some honest undiscovered talent, and it keeps Emma Swan busy and making more than generous tips.

With the usual hum of sound around her and the smoky haze in the air, Emma does not clearly see who has taken the stage, guitar in hand, nor has she really had a chance to pause and listen to the song he is singing. This hopeful's voice and its stark beauty don't truly penetrate the background din until her break, when she sets her tray on the counter to flex her aching shoulders, arches her back and lets her eyes slide closed for just a moment. Then, the strum of a guitar and tuneful, lilting voice catch her attention. There is an inviting quality to the words; the singer's timbre warm and deep and drawing Emma right under his spell.

Turning to peer across the bar toward the stage, she is startled to see the night shift cook at the mic, pouring his heart out, eyes closed and singing as though each word is the very air he needs to breathe. She has worked with the guy a few times, though they have never been properly introduced, and he has always been considerate and friendly enough, but more often than not, they pass each other at the time clock or at the door out to the back parking lot, as he is coming in for the late shift and she is leaving for the night.

Emma has a middle schooler at home needing his math assignments checked and to be kicked off his video games so he gets a good night's sleep. If she had shivers dancing down her spine for hours the night their hands had brushed on the door frame and their eyes met and held – well, that was nobody's business but her own…and nothing had come of it anyway, so what did it matter?

She had certainly not entertained the idea he could sing like that – and one of her old favorites too. Humming as her break ends and she returns to weaving in between the tables with trays of food, Emma tries to hold onto the pleasant surprise she feels, savoring the words she has always enjoyed in his deep, melodious tongue.

The guy draws in a wavering breath, making Emma and – she notices with a smirk – several other female patrons lean forward with interest, hanging on for his next word, anxious to hear as the space stretches. She looks up only to find him seemingly gazing right at her from his perch onstage. Their eyes catch and hold with the force of a head-on collision. She stumbles and nearly drops her entire tray of dirty dishes and leftovers on the nearest table.

She is the one drawing shaky breaths now, and yet she cannot look away. Those piercing blue eyes seem to capture her and burrow deep into her soul. She had never noticed in their fleeting interactions up until now how thick and dark his hair is; her fingers itch to run through its strands and his striking features stand out in even more arresting relief from the darkness. With the seductively gorgeous voice already calling out to her, she sees him briefly flick his tongue out to wet his lower lip and continue singing, and Emma feels all her normal distrust and caution melt and fall away. Her heart jolts erratically, and he flashes a quick, white smile at her as if he knows.

~~~~~~~00000000000~~~~~~~~~~0000000000000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, as the last late patrons are leaving, Emma gathers her purse and jacket from her locker after wiping her last table and clocking out, when she hears that velvet voice again. Trying not to appear desperate, she turns to seek him out, not knowing what she intends to do, only that she is drawn to him and wants to see him again.

He's across the room, saying goodbye to the manager and a few members of the house band. Though he is no longer singing, he is every bit as magnetic, and almost against her will, Emma finds her eyes noting the flex of muscle in his forearm as he shakes hands with one of them, the laugh lines that crinkle his eyes, and the natural grace with which he swings his guitar case up to hang over his shoulder.

Her joints ache, her hair is mussed and strands have long since escaped her ponytail, and she is ready to drag herself home, put her son to bed, and fall into her own to sleep for hours, but she still can't help the thrill that runs through her when she reaches the exit and somehow he is there too, facing her. A giddy grin quirks her lips as Emma realizes he must have hurried to catch up with her, must have wanted to see her as well.

"Let me get the door for you, Lass," he offers gallantly, the hint of an accent in his tone making it that much more enchanting.

"Thanks," she murmurs, dipping her head gratefully and slipping out the door ahead of him.

They walk to the parking lot side by side in easy quiet for a few moments, until Emma bites her lip, then draws in a deep breath and takes the risk. "I really enjoyed your set tonight…" she trails off awkwardly, realizing she doesn't even know his name.

"It's Killian," he supplies with a grin, holding out his hand to her. "Killian Jones, at your service, Love. And you are?"

"Emma," she replies, reaching out to take his proffered hand, "Emma Swan."

"Swan, is it?" he winks playfully, giving her fingers within his grip a gentle squeeze. "Pleasure to meet you."

She manages a wobbly smile back, but it's nothing compared to the tremors ricocheting around inside her. As soon as their fingers brush, crackling flickers of sensation begin running under her skin. Emma lifts her eyes back to his, and the spark within his gaze tells her that Killian Jones understands and feels it too. She holds on just a moment longer and somehow knows that this is only the beginning.