"So. Emma." Belle seemed entirely too pleased with the development. By this point Killian's lunch breaks weren't so much breaks as they were interrogations.

"Yes, Emma. And she works just down the way."

"Should we go there the next time we have a night out?" A perfectly innocent question, and something he'd already thought of, but…

Killian shook his head. "Not just yet. She's… careful. I'd rather not scare her off."

Belle shrugged, digging into her salad. "She's working ridiculous hours, I can tell you that much."

"I've figured she's working a lot, but - "

"Not just a lot, Killian." Belle rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. "You've never had the pleasure of working in a restaurant, have you?"

"No, but -"

"Well, I have. She's doing double shifts," Belle told him. "Ten or eleven a.m. until the lunch rush is over, which is probably why she never comes by until after 3:00. She gets a quick break in the early afternoon, and then she's back on the floor for the evening. If she's doing doubles she's probably doesn't have to close the place up, but still, that's a long time to be on the floor. Twelve hour-days, most likely."

Killian thought back to Emma's red eyes and sluggish demeanor. "Aye, you're probably right."

"...are you all right?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Fine, love. Why wouldn't I be?"

Belle regarded him curiously. "I just… nevermind." She shook her head and went back to her food.

She worked twelve-hour days. Her name was Emma, she had green eyes, and she worked twelve-hour days.

Sixty hours, and that was just Monday through Friday. Somehow, Killian suspected Emma's weekends weren't much better.

"I'll talk to her," he told Belle, with a confidence he didn't really feel.

And he would. He'd talk to her if it killed him.

In the two days between his conversation with Belle and Emma's inevitable Friday visit to the store, Killian talked himself out of his plan to approach her a dozen times. And talked himself back into it thirteen.

It'd be simple enough. Approach, introduce himself, thank her for buying his lunch, and ask if she'd like her umbrella back. A perfectly reasonable plan, really.

One he'd gone over in his head in excruciating, painful detail so many times he'd begun questioning whether he was a thirty-two year old man or a teenage schoolboy with a crush. He'd been on edge all day and hardly spoke a word at lunch.

(Belle and Robin's knowing smiles didn't help much.)

As one o'clock became two he could hardly keep a thought in his head, his eyes drifting to the clock with painful regularity as he waited, empty smiles at the customers who came in and forcing himself to stay busy, going over inventory he'd already taken care of to keep from checking the time too often. Every time he thought, surely, that at least ten minutes had gone by since he'd last looked only to see the minute hand had barely moved, and -

Definitely a schoolboy with a crush. It was like he was in bloody calculus class again, counting down the seconds until the bell.

As two o'clock became three, his heart was definitely not racing. He gave up on the inventory, tossing his clipboard aside and grabbing a bottle of water from the back, his throat suddenly, painfully dry. What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

"Relax, Killian."

He nearly jumped at the sound of Belle's voice, turning to see an amused smile on her face.

"I'm perfectly relaxed, thank you."

Her smile grew wider. "You're sweating."

"I am not sweating." He wiped his forehead with his sleeve anyway. Just in case.

"You'll be fine, okay? I've seen you talk to hundreds of women, for heaven's sake. This can't be any different."

"Aye, I suppose you're right." It was a lie and they both knew it, his eyes flicking back to the clock. 3:05. Any minute now. His gaze drifted to the front door and he waited, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself while Belle giggled next to him.

She was enjoying watching him squirm entirely too much.

After a few minutes Belle left him to help with a customer, leaving him to stand there like the idiot he was, eyes still on the front door, waiting for that familiar confident walk and flash of blonde hair.

It never came.

3:05 became 3:15 became 3:30, and Killian's heart slowly deflated with each passing minute as passerby after passerby went along, none of them the sight that had made his Fridays worthwhile for the past two months.

Was that it? Was her buying his lunch her way of putting a lid on this whole… thing, whatever it was?

By the time 3:55 rolled around Killian found himself getting angry. Not at Emma but himself - he was stupid, so bloody stupid to have worked himself up like this, making the whole situation into more than it was, he didn't even know her, she'd never shown even a passing interest in speaking to him, and here he was acting like he'd been stood up on a date.

Emma didn't owe him anything.

So bloody stupid.

Robin caught him a few minutes later as he tried to disappear to the break room for a moment, sympathy on his face and Killian wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and disappear after making such a fool of himself in front of his friends.

"Hey." Robin's hand on his arm stopped him. "Drinks are on me tonight?"

Killian tried to smile, though it probably came out as more of a grimace. "God, yes. Thanks."

Rum would be a poor substitute for seeing Emma, but it would have to do.

"She's still walking by every day, you know." Belle told him the next Wednesday.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

He truly didn't. After a particularly rum-soaked weekend he'd gone to work that Monday with a pounding headache and no more ridiculous illusions. He resolutely avoided looking to the front of the store once 3:00 rolled around. He supposed it would get easier with time, to get over all this nonsense.

There wasn't even anything for him to be getting over, and that bothered him most of all, the way he'd allowed himself to get so worked up over an imaginary connection that didn't exist. He scrubbed his face with his hand and glanced around, relieved to see a customer walk in so he could get away from Belle.

If he kept avoiding the conversation, maybe his friends would stop bringing it up.

By Friday he'd taken to disappearing in the break room precisely at 3:00. He was technically owed a break anyway, and it seemed as good a time as any to take it. He sat with a bottle of water and scrolled through his phone, hoping for a few minutes of peace before Robin came poking around and tried to convince him Emma would show up.

She wouldn't, he was certain.

He'd hardly started to read the Premiere League scores when the door flew open, Robin leaning in.

"Bloody hell," Killian muttered. His friends were like clockwork. Well-meaning, irritating clockwork.

"Killian," Robin hissed. "She's here."

He nearly dropped his phone. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. And you'd better get the hell out there before she finds a bed to lie on, because Regina's on the floor."

Killian was up and out of the room before Robin could finish his sentence, his blood running cold as soon as Regina's name was uttered. Emma had seemed embarrassed enough the first time Killian "caught" her. The thought of Regina even approaching her, possibly accusing her of trespassing and telling her to leave and threatening to call the cops if she -

No. He'd seen his boss do it before, too, with people who clearly weren't there to buy anything. It typically only happened to bored teenagers who'd drifted in from the mall and lounged on the massage chairs, but - no. It couldn't happen to Emma. He wouldn't allow it.

It seemed Regina had already spotted her (dammit) when he got back to the floor, his boss standing with her arms crossed as she surveyed the store.

"Jones," she said, tilting her head towards the bedroom suites. "Go - "

"I'm on it," he said, almost too quickly, and he tried his best to walk at a normal pace. She was going through her usual routine, testing the firmness of a mattress before drifting to another, her back to Killian as he approached.

"Hello there," he tried, his voice remarkably steady, and her shoulders stiffened before she turned around.

She was lovely as ever, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, her face suspicious and tired. "Um. Hi."

"I missed seeing you last week." Fuck. He cringed as soon as the words left him. So much for not appearing like some bloody stalker. "I just meant - you usually show up on Fridays and I just - well." He gestured helplessly at nothing in particular, his ears burning at his utter stupidity.

She eyed him warily. "Yeah, we were short-staffed and I couldn't leave on my lunch break."

"Oh." That was it. He'd nearly destroyed his liver over the weekend because she'd gotten stuck at work.

Completely, utterly stupid.

He smiled in spite of himself, his heartbeat calming just a bit. "I'm sorry, love, can I try this again? I'm Killian. I wanted to thank you for lunch."

She blinked, seemingly baffled that he was still talking to her. "Oh. It's nothing. You've been letting me… well." She waved her arm at the bed next to her. "I just wanted to return the favor."

He shook his head, his smile growing wider. "It's no trouble, really. Emma, right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"

"Your co-worker told me after you bought my lunch. I didn't didn't ask, she just - "

"Oh. Okay." She relaxed visibly. "Look, Killian, I don't want to be rude or anything, but would you mind if I...?" She glanced at the bed again.

He scratched at his ear. "That's why I came over, actually. Do you see that woman over my shoulder? Center of the store?"

Emma thankfully wasn't too obvious as she looked, just a subtle flick of her eyes. "There's two."

"I'm referring to the one who looks like the Evil Queen with a fondness for Chanel."

Her lips twitched up at that, the faintest inkling of a smile. "Yeah, I see her."

"That would be one Regina Mills, the owner. And while my friends and I certainly have no issue with you dropping in for a quick nap, Regina is a bit more…"

She raised an amused brow. "Evil?"

He chuckled at that. "That may be a bit harsh, but I don't think she would approve. She usually doesn't stay out here long before disappearing back into her crypt, but it's probably best to pretend you're a customer until she leaves."

"I understand." She'd lost the suspicious look, replaced now with an expression of reserved… interest, perhaps?

"As long as we're waiting for my boss to disappear, may I ask you something, Emma?"

"I might not answer, but go ahead."

"Fair enough. I was just wondering, why do you do this? Come in here for a nap? And why only on Fridays?"

She took a small step backwards and glanced down at the floor. "I, um. I work a lot of hours. By Friday I'm usually pretty tired. Lying down for a few minutes helps."

His suspicions had been correct, then.

"And my mattress at home sucks."

He laughed then, and there it was, another almost-smile on her face. "You know, I could assist you in finding a new one."

She snorted. "Not with the prices here."

It made his heart jump a bit, her making a joke, not trying to get away just… having a conversation. Like she wanted to talk to him. "Aye, I don't blame you. I saw your face the first time you looked at a price tag in here," he noted, amused.

"Seriously, how the hell do you sell anything?"

Killian shrugged. "Some people have too much money."

Emma's gaze drifted back over his shoulder. "Must be nice."

He didn't miss the wistfulness in her voice, another layer he hadn't considered (of fucking course she struggled financially, she wouldn't be working like a fiend otherwise).

"Your boss is staring daggers at me," she observed wryly. And there it was, another glimpse of the humor hiding behind her tired eyes and wary demeanor.

He liked her, he suddenly realized. Bloody hell, he actually liked her. Didn't just think she was beautiful, wasn't just intrigued by her curious sleeping habits, but wanted to really know her. He had a few simple facts catalogued away and he could pretend to have some sort of insight into her life, but there was so much more lurking underneath all that, under the shell of a person he'd constructed in his mind and he wanted it, wanted to know it all.

Didn't want to scare her away.

The simple thought stole his breath straight from his lungs. There'd been one-night stands over the last few years, endless meaningless flirtations on nights out with his friends but there was a spark of something happening and it scared the shit out of him, this feeling he didn't think he was capable of anymore.

It scared the shit out of him, but it intrigued him more.

"...Killian?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, love. I… Regina's still staring at us?"

"Yeah. And she doesn't look happy."

Of course she didn't. He'd been making moon-eyes at Emma for the last few minutes. "She seldom does. Here, walk with me."

"Huh?"

"Walk with me. Look at the beds as we go by and pretend I'm saying something interesting."

"What? I - oh." She caught on quickly. "Pretending to sell me something?"

He nodded. "Exactly. See, here, for example," he broadly gestured to the mattress in front of him, "is a right piece of shit that's marked up at least 50% and will need replacing within 18 months."

There it was, finally, a genuine smile on her face. It was utterly breathtaking. "I never did sleep on that one. Too lumpy."

"See, I knew you'd have good taste."

Her smile turned to an outright grin, one she fought back by biting her lip as she continued through the showroom. "And this one?"

"Expensive, but not a bad investment. Good if you like a firm mattress."

Her lips turned down a bit at that. "I've had enough of those to last a lifetime. I like the softer ones."

Emma likely had no idea what she'd just revealed in two simple sentences. He ignored the lurch in his heart and took that tiny bit of information - one that contained so much - and led her to a large canopied king-sized bed, a gorgeous mahogany piece with intricate designs hand-carved into the posts. "Maybe this would be more to your liking?"

She eyed it skeptically. "This would take up half my apartment."

"I meant the mattress, love. Give it a try?" He hadn't seen her sleep on this one yet, and… now that he thought of it, he'd never seen her nap on anything larger than a full.

Another piece of information, another lurch in his chest. She never slept on anything that couldn't fit in her home, whatever it was.

She hopped on the bed obligingly, and the satisfied smile that crossed her face as she laid back made him grin in return. He thought she'd like this one, with its soft springs and pillowed top.

She threaded her fingers together, resting them over her stomach. "Mmm. This is perfect." She gave herself a moment to sink into it, eyes flitting closed for a few seconds of pure bliss before sitting up and looking for the tag. "And probably way out of my price range. It's… yep." She glanced at Killian and shrugged. "My futon'll have to do."

"Well, at least you know where you can sleep next Friday." The words slipped out before he could stop them and he inwardly cringed at the assumption, that should would even want to come here again, but -

She smiled once more, and expression he was becoming addicted to. "Yeah, I'll have to remember this one. Speaking of which..." she glanced up at the clock on the wall and his gaze followed hers, only to see -

3:47. Shit.

"You've missed your nap," he concluded.

"Yeah." She slid off the bed and shoved her hands in her pockets, looking a little lost.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I thought I could - "

"It's okay," she assured him. "If you hadn't stepped in before your boss saw me I probably would have ended up with a restraining order."

It was a small consolation, but it was something, at least. "True. You're still welcome anytime, just - "

"Keep an eye out for the Chanel-wearing witch?"

He really, really liked her. "Aye. And I'll be sure to keep watch."

"Thanks," she said, a little shy. She glanced down at the floor and then back at him and - "Can I ask you something?"

He blinked at her, still stunned that she hadn't run away yet. "Of course."

"Why do you let me?"

"Let you what?" he asked, before his addled brain could even catch up to his mouth.

"Let me sleep here. It's pretty… weird." She shrugged, a light blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I don't mind."

"Yeah, but why? It sounds like you could get in trouble for letting me do this."

He grinned. "Two other employees are complicit in our little scheme. Regina would never fire all of us at once." Emma smiled - again, God, this was the best day he'd had in ages - but wasn't letting him off the hook that easily, raising an eyebrow and waiting for him to continue. "I just… you seemed like you needed it."

Her blush deepened, and she suddenly couldn't meet his eyes. "Thanks. It really does help."

"Would you like your umbrella back?"

Her head snapped up. "Huh?"

"Your umbrella. The one you gave me when you bought my lunch?"

"Oh." She seemed surprised he'd even brought it up. "Nah, it wasn't even mine. We have a whole stash of them in the back. Customers leave them all the time."

"Consider yourself lucky. All I get are handsy housewives."

Her laugh was unexpected and glorious, her head thrown back and eyes crinkling at the corners. "I work in a bar, buddy. If all you have to deal with are handsy housewives, you've got an easier job than I do."

"Of that I have no doubt."

She glanced up at the clock and back at him. "I, uh… I need to go or I'll be late for my shift."

Don't leave. "Of course."

She hesitated a moment, half-turned to leave before she stopped and set her shoulders. "You should come to the bar for lunch again sometime. I can't buy your food every time, but I can give you a discount."

Another hitch in his heart, another stolen breath. "I'd like that."

And one last smile, one he knew would carry him through the weekend. "See you around, Killian."

He could only nod as she walked past him, his mouth dry and eyes trained on her as she made her way to the door. She didn't turn to look at him as she often did when she left but she didn't need to, not with her last words to him echoing in his head.

And especially not when he could see her smiling to herself as she walked away.