Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews; you really make me feel amazing about this story and my writing in general! There's no angst in this chapter, just fluffy fluff, and I hope you enjoy!
Emma is having coffee with Mary Margaret on Saturday morning in her apartment and waiting for the moment she can leave without being rude because she had promised to help Killian with a fragrant bouquet he's putting together but she doesn't want to tell her mother where she's going.
For the first time in her life she knows what sneaking with a boyfriend means, because for the first time she's got somebody who cares about her whereabouts.
When Mary Margaret's phone rings and she announces that it's David, Emma's heart skips a beat because they've been playing a game of phone tag for over a week and it seems that they are finally going to catch each other.
"Yes, she's here. Emma, would you like to talk to David?"
"Okay", Emma says and holds out her hand for the phone, squeezing it tightly before pressing it to her ear. "Hello."
"Hello, Emma", David says and it's astounding how such a simple thing like her father's voice can make her feel as if she's really wrapped in his arms.
"No meetings today?" She asks him and hears Mary Margaret take the cups into the kitchen, giving Emma some privacy with her father.
"I have one after lunch", David says and Emma presses her phone more snugly against her ear, catching herself trying to picture her father and realizing that she's really looking forward to meeting him. "I'll be glad when it's all over."
"You don't like Europe?" Emma asks and settles more comfortably against the pillows, her head cocked to the side and the sound of Mary Margaret splashing in the sink providing a pleasant background noise.
"I have nothing against Europe, but they are having the coldest winter in the last fifty years in Stockholm and there's three feet of snow", David tells her, his voice rumbling with amusement when he tells her that he needs a snowplower to get to all his meetings on time.
A snowplower he doesn't have.
Emma laughs and suggests that he should come here before snow covers everything, then bites her lip because she didn't mean to sound so eager.
"I definitely intend to do that", David says and the longing in his voice shouldn't come as such a surprise, but it does.
After a lifetime during which nobody at all worried about her, she now has four people who do, and the funny thing is that it didn't take a lot of getting used to.
"Mary Margaret is going to be happy to see you", Emma tells him, tracing the flowery pattern on her couch with her index finger.
"And you?"
"Me too", Emma says softly, as if giving out a secret, wondering why is it so much easier talking to her father than her mother.
They chat for a few minutes more about the weather and how much David misses Mary Margaret's cooking, which Emma still hadn't had a chance to experience because her mother is currently living in a hotel downtown; it's the first time she wonders just how well her father's job pays and quickly decides she doesn't really care.
By the time Emma enters Killian's shop it's already past eleven and she gets pressed against the door, Killian's fingers sliding into her hair, his warm mouth covering hers.
"Sorry I'm late."
"It's quite alright", he says and gives her another quick kiss before taking her hand and walking toward the back of the store with her in tow; his small shop has become as familiar to her as her office and apartment, and she folds her cane in her pocket and hangs her coat next to Killian's. "I know your mother would be reluctant to leave."
"She's holding back. I think she's afraid of overwhelming me with all the pent up mothering she never got to do", Emma says and walks into Killian's embrace, nuzzling her nose against his shoulder, enjoying the pleasant tickle of his warm sweater and the way his hand settles against the base of her spine like it was made to fit there. "I finally got to talk to David."
"Is he a cool dad?"
"He's trying to be", Emma says and stands on her tiptoes to give Killian another kiss before they get to work. "Who's the bouquet for?"
"It's a secret", Killian tells her and Emma narrows her eyes at him, refusing to unwrap her arms around his waist until her tells her. "Will made me promise to specifically not tell you."
"So Will is sending somebody a bouquet?"
"I didn't say it."
"Why does he need you to make a bouquet? He's a florist too."
"Let it go, Swan", Killian says even though it sounds like he doesn't hold much hope that she will.
"A special fragrant bouquet", Emma muses and five second's later she's got it. "It's for somebody blind!"
"You would make a great detective", Killian says and her heart turns over in her chest when she lifts her hand and traces the outline of his smiling mouth because he never sees the things she cannot do, focusing only on the things she can.
She often wishes she could do the same.
"Except the part where you need eyes to look for things", she mutters and abruptly realizes that he's trying to distract her from figuring out who the flowers are for.
"You have eyes, love, and they are breathtakingly beautiful", Killian says, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down her spine and a heavy weight pressing on her chest because she's suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see him.
Just once.
Just for a little while.
As if sensing the shift in her mood, Killian embraces her tighter, and she finds a shelter in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder and her hand pressing against his heart, the steady beat soothing her and helping her get away from the dark hole she'd almost fallen into.
It scares her that Killian has such an effect on her, that he makes her feel such intense emotions that she'd thought herself immune of.
"The bouquet is for Elsa but you can't breathe a word of it to her", Killian says and Emma bites her lip because her friend is going to be quite a challenge for Will.
"Is he aware of the fact that Elsa thinks he's a clown?"
Emma and Elsa were having lunch at Granny's during their break last week and Will had tagged along with Killian, but he ended up saying all the wrong things at the wrong time and Elsa was not impressed with him at all.
"I think he really liked her; he's not usually like that."
"I'm not sure that the flowers are going to work, but no harm trying", Emma concludes and gently pushes Killian toward the row of flowers. "Bring me your finest specimens."
"As you wish", Killian says and Emma turns away, smiling to herself and wondering if he'd ever seen "The Princess Bride" or if it's just a coincidence that he used that particular line.
She gets the feeling that he knows exactly what it means.
"But first, let me do this", he tells her and puts a flower behind her ear, the cold petals resting against her cheek.
"Make and model?" She asks and he laughs, telling her that she's got a purple bluebell in her hair. "How do I look?"
"Prettier than the bluebell", Killian says and then goes to bring her some beautiful, fragrant flowers.
Killian is sitting on the couch in his living room with his bad arm around Emma and her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers tracing idle, random patterns on the back of his hand.
"The Princess Bride" is playing on TV and Emma recites all of Buttercup's lines, running a constant commentary to the movie and laughing in all the right places even when nothing is being said.
"How many times have you seen this?" He asks her and she tilts her head back and grins at him, her entire face lit up with her smile.
"I think fifty times wouldn't be an exaggeration. And I've listened to it about a fifty times more", she tells him and sighs contentedly, and Killian thinks how he would gladly watch it a hundred times more if it would put such a smile on Emma's face. "My mom loves it too. She brought it up first, so it can't be that she's lying for the sake of us having common interests."
"You were worried she would do that?"
"No. Yes. Maybe a little in the beginning", Emma tells him and wraps her fingers around his wrist as if measuring the size of it, her thumb and index finger never touching. "Killian?"
"Hmm?" Killian asks and brushes a kiss against Emma's temple, tilting his head so that he can see her face.
"Do you think we can try driving again?" Emma asks, her grip on his hand tightening a little in apprehension.
"Of course, love", he tells her and realizes that he's going to have to give her a gentle nudge because while she wants to get over her fear, she still needs encouragement. "I was thinking about it, actually. There's one thing I would like us to try."
"What thing?"
"I think you should drive."
"What?!" Emma exclaims and tilts her head up, her face clearly telling him that she thinks he'd gone insane.
"I sit in the driver's seat and you sit on my lap and hold the wheel", Killian tells her and takes her hand in his when she looks like she's considering running away.
"You're crazy."
"We take the road that goes past the field. There won't be anybody on it, and even if there is, I'll just take over."
"Forget about other cars; what if I run us off the road?"
"We'll go slow, and I'll be your eyes", Killian tells her and it's clear that she's tempted no matter how outrageous his plan sounds.
"You want a girl who got blinded in a car accident to drive your truck?" She asks as if to clarify that she'd heard him right but Killian knows that she's going to decide what to do depending on what he says next.
"You aren't really scared of the truck, lass. You're scared of driving in it, and you're never going to get over your fear until you realize that you can trust not only me, but yourself."
Emma chews on her bottom lip for a moment, then nods and waits for him to lead her out of the house and to his truck.
Killian gets in the driver's seat and pushes it back a little to give them more room, helping her in and groaning when she elbows him in the ribs.
"Sorry."
"All's forgiven", he tells her and drops a kiss in her hair, then tells her to close the door because he can't reach around her.
Emma hesitates a moment, then resolutely slams the door and nestles about on his lap until she finds a more comfortable position.
Killian is questioning his sanity because he should've known he would have trouble concentrating while having Emma on his lap.
"Can I start the car?"
"I don't see why not", Killian says, surprised that Emma had taken to his idea so well, and jams the key into the ignition, her fingers sliding down his arm until she reaches his hand. "Turn it."
The car comes to life and Emma puts both her hands on the wheel while Killian eases on the clutch and presses the gas, the truck slowly moving forward.
Emma's knuckles are while but there's a look of grim determination on her face and she holds the wheel surprisingly steady.
"A little to the left", Killian tells her and they move further and further away from the house, Killian's left arm wrapping around her waist and his hand resting on top of hers when it's clear that they've got this.
"I'm driving."
"You are", he says and keeps his eyes on the road ahead even though he wishes he could see Emma's face.
"It's not so scary", she tells him and it's amazing how happy that simple statement is making him feel.
"Do you want to try sitting in the passenger seat?"
"In a little bit", Emma says, and Killian lets her hold the wheel until the end of the road, then performs a three point turn and drives them back to the house with Emma riding shotgun next to him, their joined hands resting on the gear shift.
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