"So when's the wedding?" Robin asked, a shit-eating grin on his face as he returned from the bar in their usual Friday night pub and handed Killian and Belle their drinks.
"Sod off." Killian's words had little bite behind them, and even if they had, the heat he felt creeping up his face likely negated any hint of an insult.
His friends had nearly tackled him once Regina left the floor after he finally, finally spoke to Emma, and Robin's insistence that they go out for celebratory drinks for a ten-minute conversation made Killian genuinely question whether they all actually qualified for adulthood, but he wasn't about to turn down free alcohol.
Though the conversation had been pretty spectacular, when he thought about it. And he'd thought about it a lot, practically floating through the rest of his shift and smiling at random, nonsensical intervals. She'd smiled at him. Actually laughed at one of his jokes. Invited him to come see her at work, and… no, he clearly wasn't qualified for adulthood. Somehow still stuck in grade school, this ridiculous reversion after -
- after everything.
"You're daydreaming again." Belle nudged him with her elbow, but she wasn't teasing, not really, her face amused but clearly delighted for him. Killian's face broke out in another uncontrolled grin and he didn't realize how much he'd needed that until this exact moment, needed one of his friends to be happy for him, but something about Belle's gentle assurance just made the night better.
She leaned into him conspiratorially. "I think she likes you."
He shook his head and sipped at his Guinness. "She tolerates me, love. There's a difference."
Belle scoffed. "If she only tolerated you she would have said thank you and left it at that, not invited you to her place of work and offered you a discount." Belle's glee as Killian had recounted his conversation had been amusing, and her current investment even more so. "Besides, I saw how she looked at you. Trust me, she's interested. So when will you go see her?"
"I… haven't thought about that, honestly." At her question a new source of panic threatened to seize him. Was her invitation a one-time thing or a running one? Should he just go once? Show up once a week, just like she did in the store?
Belle's elbow returned to his side, sharper this time. "Drink more, panic less. Maybe something mid-week? If you go on Monday you might seem a bit too eager. Tuesday or Wednesday?"
Killian shrugged, hiding his face behind his pint glass. "Aye, that could work." He took another sip, pondering, ignoring Robin's eye-roll across the table. "Tuesday, I think. Tuesday sounds good."
Tuesday did seem perfect, the more he thought about it. He was guaranteed to see her every Friday, and Tuesday split the difference of the days in between nicely. If Emma seemed amenable to him making Tuesday lunches a habit, then he could see her twice a -
- bloody fuck, he really was a stalker.
Though he had to admit, it certainly made his Monday go a bit easier, know he'd have a chance to talk to Emma the next day. He was far too chipper for the beginning of the week, something Robin and Belle were all too eager to comment on.
"So. You're going tomorrow?" Belle asked, a knowing lilt to her voice.
"If I say no, will you drop the subject?"
"Absolutely not. In fact, if you don't, I'll go myself."
Killian recoiled. "You wouldn't."
"If the threat alone is enough to convince you, my work here is done." Belle crossed her arms over her chest. "You are going, right?"
He buried his face in his hand. "Bloody hell, yes, I'm going."
"Good. Just don't go at noon."
"I - what?"
She rolled her eyes as if it were obvious. "You want to actually talk to her, right?"
"Well, yes, but - "
"Then don't go at the busiest time of day for her. Go early or late. 11:00, or anything after 1:00. If you catch her in the middle of the lunch rush she won't have time to do anything other than bring you your food."
"Oh." He hadn't even thought that far, but Belle - "right, you've worked in restaurants."
"Trust me," she assured him. She glanced over him, reading far more into his body language than he felt comfortable with. "You'll be fine."
He started to protest, to insist that she was making far more out of the situation than necessary, but… fuck, he wasn't fooling anyone. "You really think so?"
Belle's smile was encouraging. "You're a good guy, Killian. Just be yourself."
Nothing had ever felt so odd as stepping into that restaurant. He'd taken Belle's advice and left the store at 1:15, hoping most of the stragglers had left by then.
Just as before, he waved off the hostess and headed towards the bar area, this time choosing a stool somewhere between the Bacardi and Captain Morgan bottles. Emma was there this time, taking an order for another customer. Her eyes widened a touch when she saw him approach but quickly recovered and gave him a small smile before turning back to her customer. He took a seat and tried to busy himself - there were Premiere League highlights on one of the screens, and it proved a decent enough distraction until she finally approached him.
"Hey," she said, wiping her hands conspicuously on her apron. "I wasn't sure if you'd come or not."
He smiled and shrugged, far more casual than he felt. "How could I resist such an invitation? Besides, the food was quite good last time."
She smiled. "Yeah, the kitchen's not bad here. Can I get you a drink?" She paused, made a face. "Or not. You have to go back to work after this, right?"
He laughed. "Aye. It's tempting, but I'll stick with water."
"You got it."
He watched as she made his drink and was sidetracked by another customer - the place wasn't too busy, but it was clear he wouldn't have Emma all to himself for the afternoon.
Next time he'd have to come at 2:00.
The man who'd caught her attention clearly wasn't looking just for a refill, if the leer on his face and the uncomfortable way he leaned over the bar were anything to go by. Emma handled him with astonishing grace, a sweet smile but a firm boundary struck between them - he wished he could hear what she was saying - as she handed him another beer, and the man seemed more amused than put-out to be shot down in such a manner. Even without hearing her words, it was a masterful performance.
She brought Killian his water with an eyeroll and a glance in the other man's direction, and he couldn't help but laugh. "I'd say that's far more difficult than handsy housewives, love. That was impressive."
She shrugged. "You get used to it. Do you know what you want?"
"I've only had a burger here. What's good?"
"Anything that's fried or barbecued. Stay away from the pot roast and you'll be fine."
He stuck with the same meal he'd ordered before and tried to stay out of her way; he surreptitiously watched as she handled other customers with the same sort of skill she'd used with that one sexist pig (the rest seemed nice, at least) and expertly sliced lemons and limes, presumably for use on her evening shift.
"Emma?" he finally ventured to ask, once the customers' demands seemed to have quieted down and she was left with nothing to do but slice fruit, "Where are you going every afternoon? I see you walking past my store every day."
She shrugged, barely looking up from her limes. "The food court in the mall. I know most of the people there. They give me free lunch and I give them free drinks when they come in."
He grinned. "Making friends everywhere around here, it seems."
"Eh, I wouldn't call them friends. We're… friendly, I guess, but none of us hang out or anything. We just exchange favors."
He paused mid-bite. Was that all her invitation was about? Did Emma just see him as some kind of… obligation? A discount on lunch in exchange for a dozen short naps in his store? He tried to hide his frown. "That… sounds like a good deal."
"Yeah, it works out okay." She stopped her work for a moment, and then, not even looking up: "So, you're not some crazy stalker or something, are you?"
Killian choked on his french fry.
It probably wasn't the most embarrassing thing he'd done in front of her (he still mentally slapped himself for fumbling that umbrella like a bloody prat, and dear God, I missed seeing you last week? What was wrong with him?), and at least this time he might garner some sympathy rather than a side-eye. But he still choked on his fucking french fry.
He wiped his mouth when his coughing fit finally subsided. "Come again?"
"Um. You? Possible stalker?"
"I must admit, I'm mildly offended."
She raised a curious eyebrow. "How's that? You've noticed my lunch schedule, you knew when I overslept, so much so that you actually woke me up, and then you suddenly showed up here one day -"
Killian couldn't hold back his laugh.
"Is something funny?"
"Just you, love." He grinned, grateful for a conversational opening that didn't make him look like a fool. "I've done nothing but go to work every day. You're the one who walks in front of the store so regularly I could set my watch to it. After a few months I was bound to notice. And that's not even getting started on your little naps." She blushed lightly but he kept going. "Of course I was going to notice that. I paid attention because I was trying to figure out what the hell you were doing."
She sighed. "Look, if it's that big a deal I don't have to keep bothering you - "
"You're no bother at all, love," he assured her. "I'm just pointing out that you're the one who keeps coming by my place of work. If anyone in this situation is a stalker, it's probably you."
She seemed to use the knife a little more forcefully on the next lime, but he could see her biting back a grin. "Fair enough. But you did come in here one day. How do I know you weren't - "
"I had no idea you worked here, I promise. I'd simply forgotten my lunch and this was the closest place. Do you make it a point to buy meals for potential stalkers, by the way?"
Emma's eye roll was a thing of beauty. "No. I didn't think you were going to stick around long enough to see me back here. I dunno, I just thought you were - I dunno."
"Thought I was what?"
She shook her head. "Nevermind." She took a beat before a smirk overtook her features. "Nice umbrella-handling skills, by the way."
It was his turn to feel the heat creeping up his face, but he wasn't about to let her have that one. "I trained with the best." He let his smirk drop. "That was very kind of you give me one, you know."
She waved it off. "I told you, it was nothing. Besides, I owed you one."
There it was again, the suspicion that Emma saw this as more of a business transaction than anything else. Then again, she was still talking to him, but the constant references to owing and returning the favor didn't settle well with him. Like she couldn't accept a simple kindness of him letting her have a few moments of sleep.
Like if she didn't do this, he wouldn't let her sleep in his store.
He was left to chew on that thought as she disappeared to the back of the restaurant for a few minutes while he finished his food when something else occurred to him - how much was he supposed to tip her?
Killian found tipping in American restaurants one of the strangest bits of culture shock he ran into when he first moved here. Better, he thought, to simply pay your employees a decent wage rather than leave them to the whims of customers; he'd dealt with enough of them at his own job to know how unreasonable they could be. In the end he didn't mind much; food and drinks were so much cheaper here than in London that he didn't hesitate to tip generously; it was still less expensive than it would be across the pond and he'd developed quite a bit of sympathy for service personnel after being in Regina's employ.
He didn't need the money anyway.
In any other situation he'd tip Emma outrageously; she was beautiful and enjoyable to talk to, and did her job well. But if he tipped her too much - her preoccupation with quid pro quo might make her think he expected something, and… no. He couldn't do that. And then the fact that she was giving him a discount further muddled things. Should he tip on the amount before the discount or after?
He was two seconds away from calling Belle for advice when Emma returned behind the bar. Shit.
"Need anything else?" she asked as she took his plate.
'Just the check, love." And the ability to think like a rational human being when it comes to you. Struggling for something to say, he continued as she went to the nearby computer station to print his bill. "So what do you do when you're not here?"
"Huh?"
"Hobbies, interests, that sort of thing. You've told me you work a lot, but there's got to be something you do with your leisure time."
Emma snorted. "Leisure time? You're kidding, right? And why do you care, anyway?"
She seemed amused at the question, but her reaction left Killian horrified, I wouldn't call them friends echoing in his head (why wouldn't he care?) along with the implication regarding her work schedule. He struggled to keep his voice steady. "Just making conversation. Are… are you really here seven days a week?"
She shook her head as she handed him his check. "No, I have Sundays off. I usually just sleep in, and then the rest of the day is laundry and grocery shopping and anything else I need to get done." She shrugged. "Netflix if I can stay awake long enough."
It took everything in him to keep his expression neutral. Bloody fuck. She had no idea what she'd just revealed to him, just how much of her life he'd put together from what little he knew about her. Knowing she worked 12-hours shifts with only one day off to take care of basic necessities and household chores was one thing, but hearing it from her, so nonchalant and matter-of-fact, that she just accepted it, that her life was work and nothing else, twisted something in his gut that this incredible woman never had a moment to simply relax and breathe and enjoy herself.
A 70-hour-plus work week should be more than enough for her to survive on her own, even if her usual pay didn't lend itself to an ostentatious lifestyle. What else was she doing? Saving for something? Supporting relatives or children? Paying off a debt? He'd heard enough horror stories of the American health care system to know it was a possibility.
He allowed half a second for all the possibilities to fly through his head before he smiled, brushed it off just as she did, a pleasant illusion. "Well, I happen to be a Netflix connoisseur. I'm happy to provide recommendations." He handed her his credit card and her smile was small but genuine, her thankfully not having caught on to the crushing sympathy he felt for her - sympathy he knew she wouldn't want.
"I'll let you know if I need any suggestions," she told him as she handed his card and receipt back. "So. See you around?" And there she was, back in the posture she'd taken when she first invited him here, the one that made him think he wasn't some sort of burden on her sense of fairness. Shoulders high, hands shoved in her pockets, a light blush on her cheeks.
The posture that gave him hope.
"Well, we do have a long-standing Friday appointment." He smiled at her, and as much as he could tell she tried to fight it for a few seconds, soon a grin broke out on her face that stole his breath away.
It stunned him, that this busy, exhausted woman would even give him the time of day given what she was dealing with - and he still had no idea what that was and knew it would eat at him until he figured it out - but the fact that she retained her sense of humor and a seemingly positive attitude floored him, after whatever bulllshit she'd obviously been through.
She was far stronger that he was, that was for certain. He shoved aside that tiny voice in his head and focused on Emma instead, cataloguing her smile and committing it to memory. They had a few brief seconds of eye contact, of understanding, almost like -
- almost like they could be friends.
"See you soon, Killian." Her words were almost an afterthought, trailing off as she walked down the bar to tend to another customer.
He'd never been happier or more confused in his life as he stared after her for a long moment before looking down at his bill. She'd given him 50% off.
In the end, he did a quick bit of mental math and tipped 20% on what his bill would have cost without the discount.
He signed his credit card slip with Killian "Stalker" Jones.