"Hey, Mr. Jones!"
It's Henry who opens the door. Killian gives him his best teacher smile as he looks cautiously over his shoulder.
"You ready, Mom?"
Henry's voice is shrill and still pretty high pitched, as Killian winces. Suddenly she is there, tugging on a jacket while simultaneously fastening an earring. "Just a second," she calls. She has her back to the two. Killian quickly looks over her outfit, a grey pencil skirt and a pale pink silk blouse topped by black wool coat nipped in at the waist. Very pretty, if conservative, he thinks.
Then she turns and catches his eye. She gives him a cautious smile which he returns alongside a raise of his hand. "Get your coat, Henry," she orders as she approaches the door. "Is it okay if he rides with us?"
"Of course," Killian replies, though he hadn't really thought about Henry needing transport before. No opportunity for anything to happen on the drive, then.
They pile into the black SUV and seat belts are fastened. Killian flashes Henry a smile in the mirror, "Ready?" he asks.
"Sure, Mr. Jones," Henry replies, tugging his phone out of his pocket as Killian pulls away. The car descends into silence.
"It's Minecraft," Emma explains after a few minutes. At first Killian frowns, then realizes she is talking about the game Henry is playing.
"Oh," he nods, "Yeah, that's what they're all crazy about, right?"
"This month," Emma sighs, resting her elbow against the window and watching the street outside. It's almost dark now and the street lamps are lit. A light mist of rain starts to fall and coats the windscreen in a blurry layer of water.
"Kids, huh?" he adds, immediately feeling like that was a dumb comment. He taught kids, but it's not like he had one of his own. Emma turned and nods, a soft look on her face as she replies.
"Yeah, kids."
/
An uneventful journey ends with the excitement of unpacking the car as the rain began to fall. Each of the three took turns hauling boxes and cases of goods into the gym as they gradually became more and more drenched by the increasing rain.
Finally they finished, running inside and peeling off their drenched outer layers.
The drive had been a little awkward. She'd felt self-conscious with Henry in the car with them, convinced he would pick up on some sort of residual energy (or her attraction to his teacher) so she'd remained tight lipped and concentrated on watching the streets of Storybrooke pass by the car window.
"You're drenched," he points out as she shakes out her wool coat. Rain marks run down her light grey skirt but she is thankful her blouse had been saved by the jacket. She turns and looks up at him through her lashes.
He was one to talk. His own thin coat had provided little cover and his pinstriped shirt is soaked down the front and his hair is slick against his forehead, a couple of streams of water running down his cheeks. "So are you," she scoffs, smiling in spite of herself.
He turns and catches sight of his reflection in one of the tall windows that run down the length of the gym. "Ah, yes-" he agrees, quickly running his fingers through his sodden hair.
Just then, they are joined by Miss Blanchard. "Guys! You made it. The storm coming in had us all worried."
"Is the dance still going ahead?" Emma asks, a little worried that all their efforts would be wasted.
"Of course, most of the students will be brought by an adult so we aren't worried about their safety. But I am watching that roof," she points up at the high, vaulted ceiling, "Three years ago it leaked, and we had to replace the whole gym floor. The damn thing is just poorly constructed!"
Emma nods, not overly interested in the architectural design problems, but Mary Margaret seems a sweet woman so she tries to look concerned.
"So where are we to set up, love?" Killian interjects. Emma freezes, feeling him come up behind her. He still must be a foot away but she is so aware of his presence she feels a burn drive up the back of her neck and a layer of sweat rises on her forehead.
"Just here," Mary Margaret replies and begins to walk over to a long, crepe paper covered table on the other side of the hall. She's glad when he follows her; closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. (And not looking at his ass. No, of course not…). "We've got a half hour before the doors open, is that enough time?"
By now, Emma had caught up with the other two. She and Killian exchange shrugs. Surely it can't be that hard to put out some soda and chips? "Sure," Emma insists and Mary Margaret beams in reply.
"Great, well I'll leave you two to it!"
/
Henry occupies himself looking through the DJ's playlist and it's left to Killian and Emma to unpack. It doesn't take long, and soon the table was full with the spare goods stashed beneath. Killian begins to stack cans of cola into a pyramid as Emma sets out the dips.
"I bet you played with Legos."
"Hmm?" he asks, turning his head in her directions as he finished the precarious, penultimate layer.
"As a kid," she adds, scooping salsa into a colorful plastic dish. "You know, building stuff."
He frowns for a second before a memory of building a brightly colored fort emerges. "My brother liked Legos," he sighed.
"You have a brother?" she asks, and he catches himself. Shit. He never talked about Liam.
"I did. He died," he replies quickly, trying to focus on adding the final can to the stack.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"
"It's fine," he insists, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "It was a long time ago."
She gets the message and backs away.
That was the first time he had mentioned his brother to anyone in the town since moving to Storybrooke. As far as his fellow residents were concerned, he had no past; well, not one of any interest. He liked it that way, he could be whoever he wanted to be without the burden of ad history.
There's the sound of a door opening and then the DJ is doing a sound test.
"Looks like we're in business," Emma says.
He's glad she didn't pry any further.
/
Three hundred middle school children are certainly demanding. Emma thinks her feet barely stopped moving for the first hour - refreshing buckets of ice and bowls of chips as hungry faces devoured everything in sight. She barely has time to talk to Killian. They merely coordinate their actions, taking one side of the table each to monitor. She thinks she catches him looking her way on a few occasions but she shakes her head to clear it of that notion. He'd made it clear the night before that their relationship was strictly professional.
There was half an hour to go when she finally gets a break. Most of the kids were dancing now - the DJ playing the latest chart topper - so she grabs a Diet Coke and takes a moment to step back into the darkened edge of the room.
She takes a few sips and tried to ignore the thumping music, closing her eyes and laying back against the cool wall to ease her tired muscles. It had been a long day.
"Finally, a moment to relax."
His words make her instantly smile. "Yes," she sighs in reply, turning her head in his direction, "I hadn't realized how hard work this would be."
"Never underestimate how demanding middle schoolers are." He smirks and looks across the room as he takes a sip of his 7Up.
"I think I have a new found respect for teachers," she quips, crossing her ankles as she lies back a little more against the wall. The coolness is soothing the ache between her shoulders but she still winces at the contact.
"You all right?" he asks.
She stretches her back and stands a little taller, placing one hand at her waist, "Not used to manual labor, there isn't a lot of box carrying in the security business."
"I could have helped more-"
She stops him with a wave of her hands. "Really, it's fine." Catching his eye, she feels a shudder of attraction run down her spine. There's a pause of a second as the two just watch each other. Emma thinks he is going to say something.
"Mom!"
Jumping a little at the unexpected intrusion, she smiles when she sees Henry. His face is flushed and his hair messy and damp. "You look like you've been having fun, kid!"
He grins and grabs a can of soda from the table behind. "I am! Guess what - Adam has asked if I can come sleep over at his house tonight."
Quickly Emma scans her memory- "Adam who you have math with?"
Henry nods enthusiastically, "Yeah. So can I?"
His face is full of expectation. Emma frowns a little. "I'm not sure Henry - I haven't met this boy yet. Or his mom-"
"Please!" he begs, giving her his best puppy dog look, "He has a new Xbox and he's promised to show me his Dr. Who collection-"
Her son is looking so happy that Emma can't bring herself to say no. She figures this is him making new friends and she should encourage it.
"Okay," she agrees, with a quick nod, "But I want to meet his mom when she picks him up. And I need their address and telephone number."
"Yes!" Henry cries with a quick fist pump, "You're the best!" he calls as he dashes back across the gym. He looks so tall amidst the other kids and her heart aches a little. He's getting so big, it won't be long until he doesn't need her anymore.
The melancholy feeling lasts until she hears the grumbles of a kid complaining about an empty bowl of tortilla chips. Smiling wryly, she grabs a bag from under the table and refills.
/
There had barely been the chance to talk. It's not awkward, exactly, but he's trying to read her body language towards him with little success.
He has to admit he's confused as hell.
She said it was a mistake. She said she wanted to forget it happened.
(How she could ever forget that kiss, he didn't know…)
So why did he feel the tension between them was a strong as ever? Why, even though they barely spoke, could he feel her presence as she moved around the room? It was like an invisible band between them was being turned and tightened, stretching until it would reach some unknown tipping point and then-
Well, he wasn't sure what would happen then.
The dance had wound down, until the lights had been switched back on and the kids slowly began to dissipate. Emma disappeared with her son, so he began to pack up the unused items alone. He'd overheard her conversation with Henry earlier. So it would be just the two of them driving back. The information gnaws at his gut.
He's tossing out stale potato chips when she returns. Her hair is a little damp again from the rain outside. Immediately, she picks up a bowl and begins to help.
"Henry's staying at a friend's tonight," she tells him.
"Oh," he replies, feigning ignorance, as he holds open the garbage bag. "He's making new friends easily, then?"
"I guess," she shrugs, "Kids find this whole new start thing easier than us grownups - right?"
She looks up and he catches the uncertain expression on her face. She's biting her lip and frowning slightly.
"Change is hard. Trust me, I moved here five years ago and sometimes I still feel like a stranger in this town."
"Really?"
He nods as he ties the top of the bag in a knot. "Sure. I mean I've made a few good friends. Really good friends- but it's hard work. People aren't always as open to the new as they get older."
She looks a little sadly at the floor as he talks. Is she lonely? He'd not really thought about how she must be feeling - new town, new job - and of all people, surely he was the one to understand that best. "I bet you met a lot of new people at the party?" There's an extended pause as he mentions that night again.
When she replies, he's moved over to the pile of empty cans and is sorting them for recycling. He flattens each one with his palm. It's soothing. He feels a little of the strange tension in his shoulders flittering away.
"Some," is her measured response as she comes over to help him, "I guess I just need to find the time to socialize a little more with non-work people. Get that distance between work and home, you know?"
He nods, but to be honest, he doesn't know. His closest friend is Robin and they work in the same school. Other friends are made up from a combination of a few faculty members and some guys he plays basketball with some weekends. "That sounds like a good plan."
Again, things become quiet between the two.
The DJ is dismantling his equipment now and all the kids have left. A few other PTA members are still milling around, taking down the banners and bunting that surround the hall, but it's pretty quiet.
Soon the sounds around them dwindle. There's a stack of trash bags lined against the wall. Emma is talking to Miss Blanchard as Killian places the last full cans of soda back in the crate. Slowly he walks over to the door, looking back across the room at where she and the teacher are standing. Emma is smiling and then Mary Margaret gives her a hug. He feels a little at a loose end, waiting and watching. He wants to leave, go home, think…
"You ready?" she calls out at him.
He nods and lifts up the car keys that he has in his hand. "Whenever you are."
A minute later they are walking outside. The parking lot is dark; lit only by a few floodlights which spill yellowing light onto the dark asphalt. Thankfully, the rain has ended, but it has left behind a slick dampness that permeates the air and catches in the back of his throat.
He coughs lightly as he opens the car, sliding in without a word as she follows into the passenger seat. He places the key in the lock and takes a deep breath.
"Are you okay Mr. Jones?" she asks unexpectedly.
"Sure," he replies, with a shrug, "Why?"
She slips her purse from her shoulder to her lap before slipping her hair over her shoulder. "I just-" she flashes him a look, "You just seem a little tense."
"I'm fine," he lied, pulling out his seatbelt and fastening it, "And please call me Killian. Mr. Jones seems so… formal."
"Okay, Killian-" she huffs, pulling on her own seatbelt.
He makes no move to turn on the ignition. He wants to say something to her, but he's not sure what.
She beats him to it. "Why is this so awkward?"
Silently he runs his fingers over the outer edge of the steering wheel. "Honestly?" he asks, "I don't know. This is not how I want things to be."
"Yeah, cos your Henry's teacher and we're both on the PTA-"
He shifts quickly in his seat so he's now looking at her. "No, that's not what I mean."
"Oh - so what then?" She turns a little to face him, tugging at the seatbelt as she does, her expression is open and expectant.
It's only an instant and he's struck by how attractive she is. Her even features, her tumbling hair, her simple, straightforward way of speaking to him. It was so refreshing after years of women picked up in bars: women with whom he liked to play games. He didn't want that with her.
"You're beautiful, you know that?"
"What?"
Shit, he thinks, maybe I shouldn't have said that.
"Um, I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologize."
She reaches out and places her hand on his arm. It's a soft, gentle touch, and she's smiling. "I mean, thank you. It's been a while since I've had a compliment. Well, from someone other than my son."
His eyes linger where she is touching him. It's not intimate, as such, but a step more than what he would expect. He's momentarily startled.
"Well that's a tragedy."
And for once he isn't trying to be smooth. It simply slips from his tongue as naturally as breathing. He waits for her to react but instead she is quiet, her eyes lowering, her lower lip dipping to open her mouth.
/
Her hand is still on his arm. She thinks she should move it but at the same time it feels kind of nice.
"Maybe we should be on our way…"
"Maybe," she whispers.
Sure, it's reckless and stupid, but right then she feels something between them. Kissing him seems like a ridiculous idea: they'd tried that and decided it was wrong - right? There were a thousand and one reasons why she should release her grip and just smile like nothing was going through her mind.
A quick flick of her tongue dampens her lips. She's frozen in place, a little uncertain, a little scared.
She'd told him it was a mistake. She'd told him that and he'd agreed-
A memory of the feel of his lips upon hers washed over her. Even in the haze of alcohol it had been electric. He'd fit to her so well, held her so close that she'd been almost breathless- She couldn't deny the urge inside to feel that way again, to see if her memories were true.
They're still touching and she's acutely aware that the seconds are ticking by and neither is moving. She worries for a second that she's giving mixed signals. That's the last thing she wants; it's not her style at all.
"Killian-" she whispers, her hand slipping up his arm, resting at the crook of his elbow as she takes a deep breath.
A light goes out. She looks at the clock on the dash - it's almost nine thirty. The frown that crosses her face is one of confusion. Quickly she realizes that the streetlamp nearest the car has gone out. The amber light is replaced with greyed darkness. It's oddly intimate.
Her fingers tighten, and before she realizes, she's pulling him closer. His body is heavy and reluctant at first and she almost stops, but in a few seconds he's moving with her, reaching out his own hand to unhook his seatbelt, hesitating only a second before he's leaning over the center console and their lips meet-
His mouth is warm and soft - a little cautious, until she presses her tongue towards his and he lets out a breath, sinking further into her.
Slowly his fingers weave into her hair, cupping her face with his palms as they press their mouths together: breathlessly, hungrily-
It feels good…and right.
Words bleed from her conscious. It's too much to think about: what they are doing and why.
It just feels right.
/
It's goddamn confusing as hell. But he goes with it (not that he could really resist).
Once she's pulled him close, he sinks his hands into her blonde hair. It's soft and thick. He memorizes the sensation.
She's too far away - her fists grabbing at his shirt and dragging him towards her. It takes just a few seconds until he has climbed over the center console (not quite as smoothly as he would have liked-) and she's cranked back her seat as far as it will go.
Sure, it's a little awkward, but he's drunk on her and she's wrapping her arms around him - his hands are pressing onto the seat by her sides, eagerly nipping at her mouth, forgetting they're in a parking lot and anyone could walk by-
/
Damn, she feels like a goddamn teenager!
She hitches up her skirt a little so he can rest more easily on top of her; press his body a little closer.
He's so solid and real. His warm hands slide to her waist and she groans a little - through her sheer blouse it's almost a little too close. A knot of tension tightens in her gut.
But instead of pulling away, she's pressing up her hips, her body vying for a little friction. She can feel the hardness in his pants now: it's against her hip. He responds by pressing her further into the seat and his weight lying against her is so satisfying. She could lie like this happily for hours, she thinks.
The kisses alternate between toying little flicks of the tongue, to deep full mouthed explorations that leave her gasping for air. It's fun, almost a game: a game that has her heart racing and her mind filing with almost forgotten desires.
God she wants him. He's handsome and kind and just a little smooth. And sexy as hell.
Oh God, what are they doing-?
/
There's no time for second thoughts. The windows are steaming over a little and he's lost track of time. Their bodies are so in sync, you'd think this was something they'd done a million times.
But as her body responds to his, he loses himself more in her. He's trying to hold back a little, resisting the urge to slip his hand under her skirt. He lets himself begin to press kisses down her neck, unfastening one small pearl button so her can nip at the soft flesh that rises from the swell of her breast. She smells divine.
Hell, he wants more-
There's a flicker of light and he pauses, pulling quickly back and blinking a few times. It takes him a second to realize the streetlight has come back on. The inside of the car is now illuminated again.
They look at each other. Her hair's a little mussed, the top button of her blouse is undone. The tightness in his pants is uncomfortable and the creeping heat of embarrassment is rising up his neck.
"I, um-"
He can't finish because she is pulling his face a little closer, her breath shaking: "Come back to mine."
He searches her face - did she mean that? Yesterday she's said kissing him had been a mistake and now-
"What- Wait, are you sure?"
There's a minuscule pause before she nods. "Henry's out and I don't think this is the place for this."
His response is to press a searing kiss to her lips and whisper, "Okay."
Thank you for all your messages and reviews! J xx