A/N: Eeeeeepp you guys, your feedback makes me so happy. It's been a real struggle to complete this fic with very little feedback and now I feel so spoiled. A cute, flirty chapter as a thank you :)

The feedback that I did get these past couple of months was amazing, however, all thanks to these two crazy ladies ofshipsandswans and acourtoftruelove

And also thanks to shady-swan-jones for the feedback and the art she gave in return!

While giving Killian her phone number when he had asked her was a good way to keep in touch, she should probably have thought it through and asked for his number in return. Because now she was thoroughly stuck. Dependent on him, forced to be at his beck and call when he deemed the time since they had last seen each other respectably long enough to finally reach out.

Which meant she had to wait until he contacted her and considering she had literally nothing else to do, she was pretty bored. But she waited.

A day.

Another day.

She'd waited a grand total of five days before her phone had rung and showed a text from a number foreign to her phone.

Hi, Emma. This is Killian. I was wondering if you would fancy a coffee?

On the one hand, it did bring a big advantage hanging out with Killian. She wouldn't have to follow him anymore, wouldn't have to try and figure out what he was up to when she could simply ask him. But it was a line. There was a line and Emma did not know if she could cross it. Ethically speaking, her profession already skirted the edges of what was just and respectable, but the line was something personal; a border somewhere inside of her. This was knowingly betraying someone, playing double agent and to do that to someone who had no idea what he was involved in seemed unfair. She would do a lot to ensure that she thrived but knocking someone else down was a step too far.

Emma: When and where?

Killian: Are you always this dry in your texts?

Emma: Straight to the point, what's wrong with that? It reminds me of back when you still had to pay by the text.

Killian: Dark and turbulent times, they were. Would 11 am tomorrow work? We could meet at Fika.

Emma: Fine by me.

Killian: See you then, Swan.

-/-

The heatwave that had tormented the country earlier that week had definitely left for good and pouring rain had taken its place. Rain, wind, and thunderstorms, but the oppressive sensation remained in the air. She loved summer storms—even though it was technically still spring. The moment when the electricity was almost tangible in the air, when the skies burst open, cool water a relief against warm and sunburnt skin. The blue flashes of lightning lighting up an orangey sky. But for the past few days, it had only rained. And rained. And, big surprise, rained. So much that the normally soothing clatter of it against her window now only bothered her and made her hanker for quiet—for the little taps against the glass to stop.

The little taps that were now attacking her umbrella as she walked. An icy blue-colored logo caught her attention and when she approached, the name of the shop in big letters of the same color became visible. She had arrived

Her head went from left to right while checking the street for any incoming traffic and when it was safe—no cars, buses, or cyclists in sight—she crossed. A couple just walked out of the coffeehouse, the two men smiling at her as they held the door open for her to enter. Emma smiled back, almost touched by the small act of kindness their gallantry brought. The couple exited and she entered.

Emma let her eyes roam and let her mind take in all of the new impressions. The inside decorations were clean and tight, nothing she'd expect a coffeehouse to be. Straight lines, bold colors. It was modern, something she never would've guessed watching from the outside. It looked like an IKEA showroom but on a whole different level and with a touch of hipster. She liked it. Obviously, someone with a clear vision had searched and matched furniture, had created this whole concept between four walls.

There was a colorful display of cupcakes that snatched her attention away from the decor and refocused it on the grumble of her stomach. She'd skipped breakfast—hadn't had time to as she set her alarm for a time that had only left time room for her to dress fast and leave. Besides, it was 11 am and a Sunday—brunching was a thing. A thing mainly invented to be able to start drinking alcohol at breakfast and have it be socially acceptable, but a thing nonetheless.

"Swan!" was shouted somewhere above her and soon she saw the man to whom the voice belonged descending from a pair of stairs, his feet thumping so quickly that, before she could properly turn around, he was already standing beside her. "Hello."

"Hi," she returned the greeting.

"Welcome to Fika," he beamed. "Also known as my current employment," he admitted after a beat or two.

"A cupcake shop?"

Of course she, as PI Emma Swan, knew where he worked. But she also knew that Emma, the girl that had only recently met Killian wouldn't know that and would have to be surprised. Or act as if she was surprised. Back to the acting, it was.

"And café. We sell really good cupcakes."

"Okay." Emma shrugged, accepting the explanation she didn't really need or require. The cupcakes already looked delicious, she was sure they'd taste delicious too.

"I take care of the PR," he continued to explain, almost trying to justify his profession.

"Of a cupcake shop and café." She nodded while repeating his earlier words. "Got it." She wasn't trying to be rude or anything, but Killian's slightly fumbling behavior about his job was keeping her from eating the aforementioned mentioned cupcakes. She'd gladly talk about it all (how he worked in a cupcake shop and a café) once she'd devoured at least one.

"We do have really good cupcakes."

"I suppose I should try them at some point then." A subtle hint. Some point clearly meant right now. Which Killian got, a nod confirming had gotten the message. Points to Killian.

Emma took another look at the display and singled out a couple of varieties she would not mind tasting at all.

A dark wooden door opened, revealing a pale woman with even paler hair. Her piercing blue eyes matched the color of her jumpsuit and frantically searched her surroundings for something until they stopped. They were looking for someone apparently.

"Sven!" She walked towards one of the waiters. "Where are the carrots for the carrot cupcake? Did you eat them again? How many times do I have to tell you that—" She stopped mid-sentence when her eyes caught sight of the two of them, now awkwardly shuffling on their feet as one did when they were a witness to something they were not supposed to see. "Killian! What are you doing here? It's your day off. You couldn't miss the sweets," she concluded with a disapproving shake of her head, a few strands of white hair escaping her braid.

"Of course I couldn't. Also, where else am I going to get an employee discount?" He winked.

"Nowhere because I'm your boss and I am going to keep it that way." She turned to Emma, her white-blonde hair glowing in the dimmed and cozy lighting of the cafe. For a moment she simply watched her, her direct stare thoroughly looking her over, before her expression shifted from concentration to kindness and she smiled. "Hi, I'm Elsa."

"Emma."

"Nice to meet you." She inclined her head, her braid moving against her shoulder. "Take a seat, someone will be with you right away."

"Thanks!"

Killian's prosthetic motioned towards the sitting area and as she walked in front of him, Emma could pick a place for them to sit. Eventually, she led them to a dark wooden circular table; not too secluded and far off from the counter but far enough to avoid the bustle of waiters moving about and customers lining up. Emma set her umbrella on the ground, hung her bag on the chair and took off her green raincoat before covering her chair and bag with it. Killian patiently waited and only sat down as she did, the both of them simultaneously scooting their chairs closer.

Here they were again, sitting across each other, having a tête-à-tête . But, while their previous encounter was an impromptu meeting, unforeseen and spontaneous, this one was planned. Agreed upon. Which meant that the stakes were considerably higher.

Killian could decide after today that he didn't like her and wasn't interested in spending more time with her. While her ego would most likely bruise upon hearing that, it was mostly the mission she was worried about. A lot was riding on the assumption that they would continue to hang out and she'd be able to continue this undercover assignment and if they didn't, Emma wasn't sure how she could fix that. She couldn't undo her choice of approach and if he saw her trailing him, he'd surely think she was a stalker—a logical deduction. She had to make this work.

"The weather has been terrible, hasn't it?" she asked, glancing to the big rain-stained window. "I want last week's weather back."

"Aye, I preferred having the sun, too." His shoulders moved in a shrug and he cast a glance outside as well. "Oh well, you know what they say: if wishes were horses, beggars would ride."

"Sorry?" she asked while leaning closer and frowning. "Who exactly says that?"

"People?" Killian answered with his own question, a whimsical look on his face.

She laughed and his hand went up to scratch the back of his head.

"No," she said to try and stop him from feeling sheepish. "I mean, I like it but I tend to go for my own version which is: life fucking sucks, deal with it."

"Which is also an approach," he agreed while smiling, "Albeit a distinctively different one."

"That's why you work in PR and I don't." Her shoulders rose. "Speaking of: what does 'taking care of PR' entail exactly?"

"A bit of everything," Killian replied. "I run the social media sites, write newsletters, respond to any complaints."

Emma took one of the menus that lay on the table and unfolded it, letting her eyes roam over all of the possible foods and drinks she could drink compiled in a classy and clean list.

"I wouldn't believe this place has any complaints. Look at this." She pointed at no specific part because everything had the same level of quality and refined taste in decoration, everything fit the picture and vibe perfectly.

"It rarely does. Elsa is too professional for people to even try and find something negative about this place. But some people just can't be pleased."

"I don't have the right temper for PR," Emma admitted.

She'd get frustrated with people and roll her eyes constantly which would, in turn, frustrate the other person even more and they'd end up in a never-ending cycle, or perhaps it would end with Emma fired.

"I'm a patient man. And I'd like to think of myself as quite cordial and persuasive."

Before Emma could either confirm or deny his statement, a waitress made her way to their table, a welcoming smile directed at them. She held a little notebook in her hand and flipped it to the next blank page to take their order. She had stashed her pen behind her ear and retrieved it, pressing the top to extend the tip and having it at the ready.

Her freckles were spread all across her pale skin, adding to the innocence that seemed to radiate off of her.

"Well, who do we have here." She tilted her head to Jones. "Why are you here? Not that you can't be here but it's your day off." She looked at Emma before leaning closer to Killian. "Ooh, who's that?"

"Anna, easy."

The woman took a big breath and slowly released it again. Her hands went up. "It's okay, I'm calm."

"Perfect. Emma, this is Anna, Elsa's sister. Anna, this is Emma, a friend of mine."

A friend of his. Was that their label now? They'd gone from strangers to friends. It was a positive sign, one that said she was making progress and didn't have to be that afraid of Jones not wanting to hang out anymore.

"Hi, nice to meet you!" Anna greeted her excitedly.

"Nice to meet you, too, Anna."

"What can I get ya?" Her red eyebrows soared with the question.

"Oh, I'm not sure yet." Emma grabbed the menu again and suddenly the clean piece of paper felt overwhelming, filled with so many options and choices.

"Take your time. Fika is really important."

Was she describing her own coffeehouse as really important? There was nothing wrong with some confidence when it came to your business but praising it to customers like that might not leave the best impression. Killian watched Emma and seemed to have picked up on her reaction to Anna's statement.

"Anna doesn't mean that the coffeehouse itself is really important," he clarified and Anna herself realized that Emma had misinterpreted her words too.

"Oh no! Elsa and I grew up on the border of Sweden and Norway, and fika is this big, almost sacred thing there. See it as a coffee break but obligatory. It's a ritual to avoid stress and we wanted to bring some of that mentality here, in one of the most stressful cities of the world, hence the name."

"Wow, that's nice. I really like that."

"I really like you," Anna responded. "You did well, Killian."

"Just friends, Anna," he reminded her. "I think I'll go for an ordinary black coffee." He brought everyone back to the matter at hand.

Right, they were ordering. Emma took another look at the menu, actually reading their options this time and trying to decide what sounded the most seductive.

"I'll have a triple chocolate cupcake and a mocha latte, please." She looked up from the menu to Anna and smiled.

Once she finished scribbling, Anna shut the notebook again. "Coming right up," she said with her own smile before returning to the counter.

"Apologies for Anna. She gets overly excited about almost everything but she's also about the sweetest person you'll ever meet."

"It's fine. She does seem extremely kind." She took the menu and stored it back with the others, the table empty again.

Killian hummed along with a song softly playing on the speakers spread around the café, his fingers tapping on the wood of the table. The hum was barely there, under his breath as if he couldn't help but take part in the music, his blood thrumming with every note.

Suddenly, he remembered he had company and the drumming brusquely stopped, so did the humming.

"Sorry, it's a bad habit of mine," he apologized.

"Don't apologize. You've got a good voice," Emma complimented and it was a genuine one.

"Thank you. Believe it or not, I used to be part of a band."

The band was called Neverland, Jones was lead singer and guitarist of the band he'd founded together with three of his friends back when he was twenty-three. She didn't have to believe him because she knew.

"Would it be bad if I said that I'm not surprised?"

Killian eyed her warily. "That is going to depend on why you're not surprised."

"You've got that whole rocker vibe going on. The tattoo, the necklace, the ever-present chest hair, the I-woke-up-like-this hair, not to mention the leather jacket," she summed up using her fingers to count. "It either screams 'I'm in a band' or 'I'm aspiring to be in a band.'"

He narrowed his blue eyes as he watched her. "I'm attempting to assess if that's meant as a compliment or not."

Emma lifted her hands, letting her eyebrows soar in a playful manner. "Wouldn't you like to know." A smirk played on her lips.

"Perhaps I would," Killian replied, not missing a beat. Suddenly, everything felt more intense, the entire atmosphere shifted, coming down as a heavy feeling on her chest. It might've been his husky voice or the way he looked at her, but something was definitely happening and she had no control over it.

Before it got out of hand, she saw Anna approaching out of the corner of her eye. Emma let out a silent sigh of relief both because of the diversion and because the redhead was carrying a tray with the cupcakes she had long desired after.

"Here we are," she said once she approached their table. Dimples appeared in her freckled cheeks as she kindly smiled before setting down the drinks. "So that's a triple chocolate cupcake and a mocha latte for you, Emma." Anna turned to Killian. "And a simple black coffee for you, ya big bore."

"Oi," he remonstrated. "Will you let me have my coffee in peace, please?"

"At least Emma got something interesting," Anna argued, flicking one of her two auburn braids off her shoulder.

"We're picking sides now, are we?" He crossed his arms in discontent. "And here I thought being your nice and dedicated colleague for months would put me ahead of a virtual stranger."

"To be fair," Emma interrupted, "my drink has chocolate and yours doesn't, so I think it's clear who the winner is here, Jones."

Anna lit up and giggled when Emma joined her in making fun of Killian's lack of originality. The two gave each other a quick high-five before Anna told them to enjoy their food and drinks and left them to be alone again.

"You're nothing like I thought you were, Emma Swan," Killian said while shaking his head, his lips curled into a smile.

"Is that a good thing?"

He didn't answer, instead he took a sip of his boring coffee and the question was left unanswered, occasionally reminding Emma of its presence by buzzing in the air.

"What do you do in your off-time?" he eventually asked.

Emma did absolutely nothing in her free time. She usually had none, always busy working that she'd forget to even eat. All of her friends—she had like four, but who cared—knew that and tended to bring her food to make sure she was fed and to use as an opportunity to hang out.

"Not an awful lot," she told him truthfully. "I'm famous for working a lot. I am going to attempt to start working out again now that I'm here. You?" She drank from her cup.

"I read a lot, like to go to museums. Like any Brit, I like watching football. Proper football," he specified. "Not some American BS."

"Hey," she objected. She might not be a sports person but she was still American. "Have some respect, please. Besides, at least American football has some action going on. Soccer is pretty boring."

"Take that back," he threatened with his teaspoon, his eyes turning into slits.

Emma shook her head defiantly.

"Fine, you've left me no choice." He raised his shoulders. "I will have to make you watch a football match."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" She cockily challenged him by resting her head on her palm and leaning closer. "I don't really get pressured into things."

"I'll kindly ask you to come to my flat to watch a match. Food and beer will be present and in the unlikely event that you are bored, we can watch something else."

Emma watched him. Going to his apartment, eating together, cozying it up while watching television it all seemed slightly too… well cozy. Slightly too date-like. But what choice did she have but to accept? Getting closer would mean more information and it wasn't as if spending time with Killian would be the worst thing the world. Far from it, actually.

"Okay," she agreed. "But you need to make sure you have beer because I don't think I'll survive it otherwise."

"And people tell me I'm dramatic. But that's a deal."

They continued to talk about other mundane, safe stuff. What kind of movies they liked and whether London was a better place than Boston (Killian said yes, Emma said no.) Before they knew it, hours had passed and they'd both drank two drinks and she'd eaten two cupcakes (So. good.)

"I better get going," Emma said. "I still have some groceries to do."

She began to gather her stuff, her bag and coat on the chair, her umbrella in the corner, before standing up. Killian followed her immediately.

"I had fun today, Swan," he told her and she couldn't help but nod along. She'd truly enjoyed the time they had spent together today, maybe even more so than last time.

"I did too." She zipped up the zipper of her coat. "Just text me your address and when you wanna bore me to death by forcing me to watch soccer."

"Mark my words, Emma Swan. You are going to hate how much you'll love it."

And the only word she could think of to describe the way he promised her that was confident. Confident and sexy.

But she refused to agree, it didn't matter how sexy that irritating smirk was. "That's what you think."

"Oh, trust me. I know."

"Bye, Jones." She started walking away, waving to Anna as she made her way to the exit.

"Oh, and Swan," Killian spoke just as she was about to open the door.

"Yeah?" Emma turned back to him, a questioning eyebrow raised.

"This isn't a date," he dared to tell her.

Emma scoffed. "You wish, Jones."

A salacious grin as he waved her goodbye left Emma leaving with her own grin.

Today is actually the three-year-anniversary of my Tumblr blog and the three-year-anniversary of me writing fic so I'd like to thank you all for following me and/or reading the things I write. It means the world to me! We'll meet here again on Thursday