Notes: Happy Tuesday! I flipped it this chapter, so enjoy some Killian POV this time. As always, thanks to Sandy & Steph for not killing me given how many times I bugged them about this chapter, and thanks for the wonderful response to this, seriously makes my life.
It's insulting in a way, how she just seems to think that he's going to screw everything up simply because he's gone and screwed everything up.
She could try to be a bit understanding of the situation, of how she looked last night, completely exhausted, her nose wrinkled in annoyance, and her blonde hair falling in her face. She could look at it from his point of view, beautiful woman who'd already proven in, albeit, a very brutal way, that she was more than capable of knocking him off his feet, not just with a casual sidestep, but with her smile, tugged from wherever she sought to hide them and an energy to her that even her exhaustion could not hide. How could he have done anything but what he'd done? How could he have let her go without kissing her senseless, without tasting every inch of her and trying to memorize it through the pounding in his skull?
How could he have gone another moment of his life without sharing in hers at least for a little while longer?
Still, he indulges her. When she makes him step aside so she can talk to her landlord, he allows it, simply because it isn't his to allow anyway. It's her life and it may now be a life that she's forced to share with him due to his own foolishness - getting drunk around Sidney Glass, drinking in Robert Gold's club - but he's not going to start throwing his weight around (as if she wouldn't throw it right back and farther than him, even).
Killian only speaks when the landlord, a stubby old man with grey eyebrows and jet black dyed hair, turns to him and says, "Aren't you that guy in the newspaper and -"
As the landlord's eyes swivel towards Emma, Killian cuts in, "Of course not, mate. I may look like a movie star -" Emma snorts at that - "But trust me, no one would put my face on a magazine."
"Newspaper," Emma's landlord grumbles. "It was the Post."
"Just the Post?" Emma retorts.
Killian recovers the landlord's attention quickly when he says, "Hey, there's a cat in the apartment. How much for it?"
Bewildered and suspicious isn't an attractive look on the old man, a squint that makes him look like the bathroom isn't close enough when he says, "The clock? It isn't for sale."
"Why not?" Killian asks.
"It's an heirloom."
"An heirloom?" Killian parrots in disbelief.
"This is going to take a while, isn't it?" Emma asks, looking between Killian and her landlord. She gives Killian a pat on the shoulder, her hand lingering long enough for him to memorize the weight of it, her light grip, when she says, "Good luck, buddy."
"Buddy?" he pouts.
Emma slides her hand away and walks past him, calling over her shoulder, "I'm going to start boxing things. You two play nice."
It's only after he settles on a neat sum of $699 for the cat clock - the things Killian does to see a woman smile - that he joins Emma in her apartment.
"How much did he take you for?"
Killian shrugs at her amusement. "$699. An excellent bargain."
"Oh, you have a way with words if you got him to sell it for less than an arm and a leg," Emma says.
Killian frowns at that. "I think he wanted more than my arm and leg. We should hurry this along, as I'm certain he didn't believe me about the Post."
"You think? 'I may look like a movie star,' Jesus, Killian, that's the kind of arrogance newspapers are made to exploit." Emma shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "I'm almost done."
"Almost done?" Killian asks.
There are only three boxes in front of him, small ones at that, and draped across her couch are a few jackets, a red leather one catching his eye. It's the one that Emma grabs and slips into while he continues to stare, at the boxes, at the pieces of her life she deems worth taking with her.
"I'm not sentimental," Emma says at his stare.
Peeking into one of the boxes, he smiles, and says, "But you took the Xbox."
"I am sane," Emma shoots back.
He grins. He could get used to this easy back and forth, but nothing about this is going to be easy once they leave this apartment.
They still have to see Gold.
He clenches his teeth together and is surprised when Emma says, "What's with the grim look?"
"We're flying back to Socaea," he lies, in a way that isn't exactly deceptive as it just is not the whole truth. "I'm not one for air travel."
"What? Do you prefer boat?"
He doesn't reply and she throws her head back, laughing almost, "You do. You'd prefer we make the 3000 mile journey by boat."
"By ship, Swan, and you approximated the distance?"
"By ship," she mutters with a roll of her eyes. She places her hands on her hips and says, "Well, when you drop your entire life in a day, you want to know the basics, distance to be travelled being one of them."
Killian flinches. He wants to apologize again, but there's nothing more to be said than what he's already said - nothing more that he can risk. He scrubs a hand over his jaw and questions, "Do you need any assistance getting anything else together?"
She waves him off. "No, I'm all set."
She looks around her apartment and as her eyes settle on the place around her, her face falls. She reaches up, and he noted the necklace she wore last night, when he was nosing it aside to place kisses in the freckled valley of her breasts, but he notes it differently this time, notes how she shifts on her feet, how she dashes the reaching motion with a series of quick blinks. Blowing out a breath, Emma stares at him directly and says, "Speaking of shipping, I need to add the cost of shipping my car out of country to my fees."
"Your car?"
"I'm not leaving the bug."
He tilts his head to the side, studying her and says, "I thought you weren't sentimental?"
Instead of the retort he expects, an angry blush starts in Emma's cheeks, her face screwing up in something like regret.
He wants to know, wants to ask -
"I'm not relying on you for whatever life I'm going to be living there. I have my car and I'm going to use it," she states.
"I understand," Killian says.
"Good. That we have an understanding. I'll find some kind of job there, something low-key."
Killian bites back his argument because she already knows how unlikely that will be, looks at him with a hopeless dropping of her shoulders, but there's a spark in her eyes like she's willing to fight for it.
He crosses the distance between them. With a light smile, he says, "You know, this could be categorized as an international incident."
Emma's expression lifts a little. "Have I tainted relations between the United States and Socaea? Does this mean war?"
"In Socaea, we export love, not war," he murmurs.
She throws her head back, snorting. "Yeah, okay. Help me carry the boxes out to your car before my landlord figures this all out."
"And what is there to figure out, love?"
She doesn't reply to that, just sighs soft and keeps walking away.
"I see why you like that car," Killian says. "Big Bird yellow certainly has its allure."
Emma makes a strangled noise, so Killian turns for a second to see her fiddling with her sunglasses. Trying for disguised and looking just as radiant as before.
"You get Sesame Street in your country, how nice." Without missing a beat, she asks, "Why were there no reporters at my apartment?"
He sniffs in minor offense. "My people, as you have referred to them, are excellent at what they do."
"That's not answering my question. What did they do?"
"Released a false address to a vacant lot," Killian replies.
Her response is so charged that he startles a bit at her angry, "Oh great, now the next story will be about homeless serial killers. It's bad enough having to live on the streets. People are already afraid of you. Afraid of what you might do for a proper meal, a shower, a warm bed..."
Emma trails off, a nervous fidgeting following her words. She doesn't want to talk about this, and "orphan with a criminal record" would say enough without him having had a detailed report of her past read to him as he tried to calm the hell he'd created.
He feels Emma's eyes on him.
She doesn't want to talk about this, so he gives her the moment, and posits, "Or, rather, the story will be about lying princes."
"Or that," Emma concedes.
She quiets then as they hit early evening traffic. He can't venture to guess what she might be thinking now, the only clues he can take from her quiet studying of the window, her huffed breath on the glass.
He doesn't know Emma Swan well enough to understand the pinch in her brow or the way she clutches the handle on the door like she's considering whether rolling out into traffic is an option. He doesn't know her, and maybe that's what she's thinking: she doesn't know him and now she's trapped with him for who knows how long.
"This is going to hurt," Emma murmurs.
"What is?" Killian asks, forced to turn his gaze from her as the cars before him start to inch forward.
This.
This was never going to be easy even without the pictures, the front page stories and calls from government officials. Emma was right. What would he have said if she'd called? "Thank you," probably wouldn't have been at the top of his list, but it'd be the only reasonable thing to say.
But the remembered feeling of her hands cupping his face as she stared into his glazed eyes makes him want to be unreasonable.
("Thank you" would not have been at the top of his list, but "Can I see you?" certainly would have.)
"Quitting a job is never pleasant," Emma says.
He manages to offer, "If you'd like, I can be there with you when you do it."
As he expected, she turns him down with a quick, "No, I can handle him fine. I just need to get myself in the headspace of dealing with an asshole."
His lips quirk up.
"You mean to tell me you weren't already there?"
"I don't think you're an asshole."
"Shall I refresh your memory of our earlier conversation, Swan? The wound still stings," he says.
He can't clutch at his chest for good measure because he has both hands on the wheel, but he can pout, and he knows he does a damn good job of it because she groans, low enough that the sound has him shifting slightly.
He bites back his answering groan with some difficulty.
"I'm not sorry," Emma says.
He shrugs away the uncomfortable ache of memory, drawing himself back into the present as best he can.
"I suppose that's fair. Neither am I."
Her groan this time is less a groan than it is a surprised exhale, and why she should be surprised escapes him because there was nothing about spending the night with her that he would take back except the head injury, the pressure of which he can still feel and will probably feel for several more days.
And the fact that Glass' information is still out of his grasp.
Killian grips the wheel a little tighter and changes lanes with more force than is strictly necessary, his foot a little too heavy on the gas, but it's a thought he's been avoiding since he walked out of Emma's building this morning and now that it's at the forefront, he doesn't yet have a handle on it.
It being his desire to find the scheming wanker and give him something truly newsworthy to think about. Prince Strangles Paparazzi Jerkwad (to borrow a fitting phrase from Emma) has a nice ring to it. It would make a thrilling headline.
For the sake of the throbbing in his temple and Emma beside him, Killian dashes that thought and the associated rage and compartmentalizes. If there's was a true threat that Glass has information on, then he would've published it by now. Fear aside, exposing an assassination plot on a prince by his sister (half, and there's the crux of the issue) is exactly the kind of drama Glass thrives on.
It's no eighth wonder of the modern world that Glass would do so; It's a Royal Family Affair! was his headline, after all.
Whatever he knows, if he knows, the information must not be substantiated, and here's the true eighth wonder: that it took a head injury for Killian to see clearly enough to recognize that meeting with Glass was pointless, only serving to ruin someone else's life.
Killian's excels at that.
"Okay, sailor, what's with the worried look? Spotted some smoke on the horizon?"
His mouth quirks up again and he finds himself supremely grateful to have her sitting at his side. Outwardly he says, "Sailing metaphors, Swan?" while inwardly he bathes in her casual concern.
"Seemed appropriate, Sir. I'd-Travel-By-Boat-If-I-Could."
"Ship," he stresses.
"Is it Gold?" she asks carefully.
It's too complicated a question, and too trying to answer so he winks and replies, "It always is with a pirate."
"Oh my god," she groans.
"You didn't really think I'd let that pass me by?"
Her groan is less deep this time, more amused when she says, "Ships in the night reference? Didn't strike me as the Folk Rock type."
"That phrase is quite a bit older than the song, and" - he flashes a grin into the mirror - "I am rather striking."
Emma winces. "Strike out, buddy." Sighing, she says, "You're deflecting, when I gave you a good enough opening to divulge some of your secrets since you already know mine. Google was surprisingly light on your background considering…"
"Yes, considering." He turns to Emma with a tight smile, and admits, "Gold took care of me when I was young."
"You're not talking babysitter," she comments.
"I'm not."
She's quiet for a long while, but as they turn down the street to Gold's office, she says, "What did you tell Gold about me?"
"I may have said something about you being my exceptionally lovely savior."
Killian's jaw twitches at yet another half-truth, and he feels Emma's stare again. A lie of omission is still a lie, and he knows that she knows it. Still, she allows him his secret, and as much as it feels wrong that he can choose to keep his, the ones he calls his own at least, and not the ones that were kept from him for so long that he'd been caught on camera throwing a quite literal tantrum at their reveal - no, as much as it feels wrong that he can have his secrets while hers are all typed and catalogued in a portfolio at his embassy, he can't afford to say a word.
Can't trust anyone these days, not even the woman who'd taken his hand while he kissed his way up her thigh -
"Another question: why are you allowed out of your embassy on your own?"
Relieved at the change in subject, he says, "Because most people don't even recognize Socaea as a country enough to recognize its sovereigns."
"That's true, but you were on the cover of the Post."
Gold's building looms before him, and luckily enough, there's a park right in front of it. Not a legal one, but he has the decals and plates to allow it. It's one less thing to plague his mind.
"Not just the Post," he says when he's parked, drawing out Emma's laughter. He revels in the tune until it fades out, and then he adds, "Truthfully, I'm allowed out because I refused to have you shepherded around by just anyone. I wouldn't treat you that way, Emma."
She sighs like his concern is tiresome, and he supposes it is when he didn't show an ounce of it last night.
He wonders how she hasn't yelled at him since this morning, how she's managed to bite her tongue and mostly accept this situation. It is self-preservation guiding her, it must be, to keep herself hidden behind jokes and sighs because she thinks she has to just to get through this.
Killian's a right ass.
He scrapes a hand over his face, surprised when Emma says, "You can't sit in the car. You have to come in. Do you mind?"
They make a pair because he shoves his feelings aside as well, hides his darkening thoughts behind a sigh of his own and a smile attempting at easing her.
"Not at all."
Killian does take a moment to prepare himself before he leaves the car, but that just gives him a moment to watch her as she walks around from the passenger side, her hair whipping in the light breeze, her sharpened profile and the slightly grim look on her face like she's preparing for battle.
It's a good look, but he prefers the smile.
And as he isn't bloody likely to garner a real one anytime soon, he pops open the door and gets out to follow her inside Gold's offices.
The entrance hall is empty, which isn't unexpected given the time of day and Robert Gold's distrust of most living organisms.
So, after Emma checks herself in with the blank-stared security guard, it comes as a surprise that when they call the elevator down, the doors open to reveal a dark-haired woman.
Belle - he recognizes from pictures - reaches to steady Emma as she stumbles back in surprise.
"Oh good, you're here," she says to Emma, whose brows have lifted high enough as to be seen over her sunglasses.
She pulls Emma into the elevator and Killian follows after, just in time to have the doors shut behind him.
He looks around him. He's never liked closed spaces, and he likes it even less now.
"Oh good, you can explain why this is good," Emma replies to Belle.
Killian looks between the two, at Belle's hand resting on Emma's arm, Emma's tension visible in the wrinkles of her leather jacket.
"Mr. Gold was sending me out to look for you. He wanted to talk to you," Belle says, her smile fading at the words.
Emma reads it as easily as Killian does, and while Belle looks at her apologetically, she says, "He can't fire me if I quit."
"You're quitting?" Belle asks, sounding a mixture of surprised and heartbroken.
Surprise that Emma echoes. "You really didn't expect me to stay?"
"Stay?" Belle turns on Killian then, finally acknowledging his existence with a little less enthusiasm than she acknowledged Emma's, but with the same fire. She steps into him, eyes narrowed, "Where are you taking her?"
Killian merely smiles, steps around, and wraps his arm around Emma's shoulder. It takes a second for her to fall into it, but she must recognize the necessity of such an act even if she certainly doesn't approve.
"Emma will be going home with me," Killian says.
"You can't kidnap her just because you're royalty."
"An excellent point. I'm not kidnapping my -" Emma shivers in his embrace, but still he says, "Girlfriend. After this incident, we thought it best that we become open about our relationship."
Belle's mouth thins and her eyes narrow.
She doesn't believe him.
"Yeah, open up to me. Emma, Mr. Gold's in his office," she says as the doors open up to their floor.
"Yeah," Emma says.
They both step out and when the door closes behind him, Emma shifts beneath Killian's arm and looks up at him. There's something in her eyes that he doesn't recognize, but he can pinpoint her discomfort at least, and he nods at her, trying to relax her in some way. At that, she blinks and slips out from under his arm, turning on her booted heels and marching down the hall. Killian tries to watch her go, but Belle grabs his now Emma-less arm and drags him towards the lounge area, the couches looking as if no one has ever sat on them.
Killian would be surprised if they had.
"Sit," she orders him.
He lifts a brow. "Usually people pretend that their orders are a request with me, considering my status."
Belle ignores him and sits herself down so he obeys her order and takes the seat across from her. It's comfortable at least, which isn't much of a comfort when Gold's only a few yards away and Emma's alone with him.
He remains quiet because -
(Of everything about this place, making his skin crawl, making him want to tear across the room and demand the answers he'll never get.)
Because Killian doesn't yet know how to spin this, not with Belle. She knows Emma far better than he does - and apparently, she knows Emma enough to know she wasn't in relationship before this moment.
(Or, more likely, that she wouldn't be in a relationship with Killian.)
"You're going to have to do better than that if people are going to believe you," Belle says.
Killian sighs. She's sharp and he's too tired to pretend.
"I know."
"Emma's not the easiest," Belle says, a sad note to her voice and dip to her mouth.
"Oh, she's a tough lass to be sure," Killian says. "But I'm willing to try."
"Are you?" Belle asks.
She sounds giddy, excited, and suddenly far too interested in Killian, so he raises a hand and quickly clarifies, "For her sake."
Her eyebrow lifts.
She doesn't believe him.
"You like her," Belle states.
"What's not to like?" Killian says.
He doesn't mean it to sound as serious as it comes out, with as much force behind the words, but - he's defensive, it seems.
(Can't be anything but that, here, within the hyena's den - a scavenger is what Gold is, appraising what's left and taking until nothing remains.)
He looks back towards Gold's office, but only silence greets him and the shut door is a cold reminder that Emma's in there with him, and she can handle him certainly, but Gold will take whatever he can get.
Killian turns back, and Belle goes on, a small smile on her cheeks that Killian is uncertain whether to return. "Emma can be closed off, but that doesn't mean it should stop you from trying to make this situation work."
He scratches at his head. "So you're encouraging me, now?"
She clasps her hands together, and says, "Yes, I am. Emma needs this. Not this whole situation, obviously, but she needs someone."
"I'm certain she would disagree, and feel mighty ticked that you're deciding what she needs for her," Killian replies.
Belle ignores this. "If you like her, you'll make the attempt."
"Since we're advising each other," Killian says. He leans in towards her and Belle quirks an eyebrow but moves closer too, enough for him to smile around his quiet, "Don't trust Gold," and still have himself be heard.
"Why not?" Belle asks, surprised.
A door slams behind them, and Killian jerks to his feet immediately to see Emma walking towards him, sunglasses gone so he can see the fury in her gaze.
And the upset.
There's anger there, but there's also hurt and Killian instinctively moves towards her.
(Gold took.)
When Emma notices them, she pauses in her steps before moving more gingerly, trying and failing to fake serenity.
Killian doesn't really give much thought to the way he wraps his arms around her, except when the door clicks open again and he hears the cane hit the floor. He presses his nose to Emma's hair for a moment, before he looks up at Gold.
"Prince Killian. I didn't think you would come by and all by yourself, too. That's dangerous."
"I'm more than capable of taking care of myself should the need arise. I'm simply here escorting Emma."
Gold smiles, his gold tooth flashing in the light. "Escorting?"
"She and I are together," Killian explains.
Gold nods. "Ah, yes, Belle informed me of that turn of events."
Killian curls his mouth into a smile. Belle's a sharp lass, truly, to figure that the truth in Gold's hands would not be a good idea.
(A sharp lass - she needs to be to work for someone as predatory as Gold. Sharp as knives.)
"A welcome one, to be sure."
Emma shifts in his arms and turns to face Gold.
"Again, sorry for the late notice." She shrugs, pressing herself closer to Killian, "You know how these things go."
"Whirlwind romances. Love happens at the most inopportune times, doesn't it?" Gold says with a wave of his hand and a flash of a smile.
Killian returns the grin. "No time is inopportune when you've met someone like Emma."
"Killian?" Emma asks, her voice so impossibly soft that it simply can't just be for show.
And if it isn't part of the act...
"Yes, love?" he probes, searching her face.
She smiles but it's far from warm. "We should be going. They're waiting on us."
"They are, aren't they?" Killian agrees.
Turning back to Gold, he says, "No time to catch up, and I do apologize, but duty and country calls."
"Yes, of course. I'm sure you have your schedule quite filled with this," he says, waving at Emma.
Emma stiffens in his arms, and Killian's smile goes colder, even. "Yes, of course."
He dismisses Gold and turns to Belle, who smiles at Emma, a welcoming warmth to the expression, before meeting Killian's stare. He flicks his gaze back to Gold, the best reminder of his words that he can give before he says, "Belle, it was lovely meeting you in person, lass."
He takes her hand and kisses it briefly.
"Gold," Killian nods.
"Have a good trip, dearie," Gold says to Emma. "And Killian? Give my regards to your mother."
When Killian leads Emma to the elevator, his hand is tight on hers. The grip she returns is the same.
She doesn't say anything to him until they're blocks away from Gold's offices and then it's with a quiet, contemplative murmur of, "I didn't say goodbye to Belle." Emma sighs. "I should've said goodbye."
"I'm sure she understands," Killian says.
Emma chuckles at that. "You sure?"
"Yes, I am. I spoke to her about you actually."
Emma wheels on him, asking suspiciously, "What did you tell her?"
"She told me to treat you properly, of course. She was very concerned for you."
"Of course, she was," Emma says, but she sounds surprised, and after that, she remains so quiet that Killian's almost to the embassy before she breaches the silence again.
"So."
"Yes?" Killian asks.
"I know we've been doing this thing where we're not pressing each other for things, and that's great and all, really appreciate you trying to pretend you don't know everything about me, but that isn't going to work if we're supposed to be lovers."
He's had much the same thought plaguing him in the silence. This isn't going to work if they're supposed to be lovers, all the secrets he needs to keep.
It's been trying enough these past few hours.
(And how long will this last, will she want to keep up appearances for the sake of -)
"Partners," Killian remarks.
Emma makes a clicking noise with her tongue, and Killian glances over to see her making a finger guns at him. He chortles as she says, "Howdy, partner, please tell me more about you so I can pretend that this is a relationship and not a one night stand gone wrong."
His frown fades a bit, and then he says, "Where should I start?"
"What were you doing in DC?" Emma asks.
"Visiting with your Vice President."
"Of course, of course." A beat passes. "So, when did we get a chance to meet?"
He muses on this and finally says, "I had a moment to myself. I was given a chance to roam the city, and I took that chance and as I was playing the pauper, as you say, I ran into you. Quite literally."
She deadpans, "Don't be so predictable."
"Alright, let's see you produce a better story," he scoffs.
Emma makes a noise at that, but she collects herself, says, "Uh, I guess you walked around like you knew the place pretty well so I decided to ask you for directions. I was there looking for a bail jump, was supposed to meet a contact at Chinatown. You offered to walk me there. It wasn't long before I realized that you had no idea where you were going either."
Killian nods. "This is quite creative, actually. Sounds like something I would do."
"Yeah, I figured," Emma says, her tone more teasing than it's been since their visit with Gold.
He wants to ask her what Gold said, but - well, he's still respecting what she might not want to talk about.
(And for the sake of this, softer moments, calm between storms, he won't say a word.)
"We're almost to the Embassy," Killian says. "There we'll get your passport all set, and then tomorrow we'll fly out."
"Tomorrow?" Emma asks.
"Is that too soon?" Killian replies.
"I don't know." She sighs deeper than before, and says, "I'm tired."
"Me too," Killian admits.
"But," she adds, "I doubt I'll be able to sleep until this is all over."
"It's only just begun, love," Killian says gently.
Emma ruffles at that. "I know that."
"We can still call this off. I can find another way," Killian says.
"No, you can't. Not one that'll make us both look good," Emma says. "And you can't afford to look worse."
That throws him. He glances over at her and exclaims, "I can't?"
"I googled, Killian. Your position is precarious at best. If it gets out that you were - you never did tell me why you were going after Sidney," Emma says.
Killian gives a closer truth this time and says, "Glass said he knew something about my sister, and then when I arrived there, he tried to back out of it. I was trying to grab him and shake the information out of him."
"The sister who you've usurped," Emma points out.
"That's one way to put it."
Cutting right through his deflection, she says, "She hates you, doesn't she?"
Lying about this will be more of a danger to her than a benefit so Killian confirms, "Loathes me."
"Hmm. So, she'll hate me, too."
Killian nods. "That's the likeliest scenario."
"Great. See, this is why you need me."
"I need you?" he asks, grinning.
"To share some of the hate," Emma says.
Killian chuckles. "Darling, believe me, she has enough hatred to spare."
"Goody," Emma says cheerily enough.
She follows that with a tired sigh, however and he can see her slump down in her seat. They're only a few blocks away from the embassy so he says, "Can't sleep yet."
She doesn't respond.
As they pull up to the embassy, she finally reawakens, shifting in her seat. It only takes a cursory look at the plates and a wave from Killian at the two guards on duty for the gates to open. He's saluted as he pulls into the driveway.
Emma looks around, but only gets a short look at the small grounds (overlarge considering it's still within Manhattan) before they pull into the garage. It closes behind them and Killian parks, but doesn't move. Turning in his seat, he says, "I'm not going to ask whether you're sure again because I'm sure you'll hurt me if I do, but I will ask if you're ready to go in there."
"No, but I have to be anyway." She pats him on the shoulder. "Don't worry your pretty head, your highness."
"Please, don't," he groans.
"Why not, your majesty?"
He draws closer to her. Emma doesn't move away, so he says, quietly, "Because I'm enjoying it too much."
She smiles small and Killian struggles with the sudden urge to kiss her. His mouth goes dry as he stares at her lips, the invitation in the creases of her dimples, and he just wants because once they grace those doors, it'll be the real show. Gold was just a test. This will be the main event and he wants to taste Emma one last time before everything becomes fake. It would be real if he kissed her now, when no one is watching.
But it wouldn't be fair.
So, he licks at his lip and draws back.
At his motion, she unsnaps her seatbelt and exits the car. She lingers by the car door, eyeing the garage entrance to his home away from home warily.
He walks over to her and takes her hand. When she looks down at their joined hands and back to him, he smiles encouragingly and says, "Ready, partner?"
"It sounded better when I said it," Emma says.
She's the one that drags him towards the entrance. It swings open before they're within five feet of it, and Emma pauses briefly to regard the man that opened it.
Or perhaps, it's his deep glare that leaves her startled in her steps.
Killian squeezes her hand and says, "Thank you, Leroy."
Leroy grunts, his customary response and stares at Emma with narrowed eyes. "Welcome, sister."
"Thanks," Emma says, an up-tilt to her voice that is almost a question.
"This is Emma," Killian introduces. He turns to Emma. "Leroy's one of my bodyguards."
"Is he?" Emma asks.
"Poor job I've done of it, right, sister? But you can't stop an idiot from -"
"Leroy!" a voice calls from somewhere farther off.
Leroy sighs and steps aside. "Other duties call. Try not to break your head open again." He nods at Emma and then turns away from the door, giving them a chance to enter the embassy.
Emma looks bewildered but her eyes widen, her expression going slack as she stares at the short hall. He's not sure how it looks to her, whether it's as over the top as it feels to him, and he doesn't want to spoil her moment by speaking, so he waits for her to break their silence.
Waits for her to pull away, even, but she doesn't do that, just says, "It's bigger on the inside."
"Yes, it is. When our embassy was established here, high ceilings and open spaces were in style," Killian explains of the rather high ceilings and mostly empty space.
"They always are," Emma says, a happy note in her voice.
"I take it that you approve."
He smiles at her wondering expression, but turns his head at the sound of a door closing off to the left. The parlor. He isn't supposed to have any guests, so anyone in that room - it's odd. Too odd, and Killian frowns. He gently pulls at Emma's hand, directing them towards the parlor.
"What's wrong?" Emma asks.
"Someone's here," Killian says.
Not much of an explanation but he's too busy trying to find one himself to give a better one. He presses open the door and is about to demand answers but Emma startles forward, pulling out of his grip before recognition can even set in.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Emma demands of the man bent over Killian's least favorite table.
He wishes he could remove it, but alas, it's an heirloom, and Regina would never allow it. Her price would be much weightier than that of Emma's landlord and not one Killian's willing to meet.
And this - this is someone he didn't expect to meet within his home. Killian grits his teeth as Glass turns and straightens at Emma's words.
"Oh good, you're both here. I -"
"Who the fuck did you bribe?" Emma hisses.
She steps forward again and Killian knows Glass is about to get what he bloody deserves. He's reluctant to stop Emma – truly loath to stop her when again, Glass deserves it.
"No one!" Glass says. He has the nerve to look affronted even as he takes a smart step back. "I was invited."
Emma turns to Killian at that. "You invited him?"
"Of course not," Killian swears.
Emma narrows her eyes, but she swings back around to Glass after a beat, hands raised. "You took pictures! I asked for your help and you took pictures of us."
"Maybe I shouldn't have done that -" Emma's fists clench and she looks ready to pounce. Glass takes another step back and addresses Killian, "Okay, I definitely shouldn't have done that, but who was I to know that she wasn't kidnapping you?"
"If you were really that concerned for his well-being, you should've called the cops instead of using his injury for a headline. No, you spent all that time digging up my history so you could be the first to run with the news of my kidnapping him - and even then, all that information you scraped up, you still could've called the cops. With my history, you know they would've hauled me in," Emma snaps.
Killian steps forward and places a hand on her back, feels the stiffness in her spine and rubs his knuckles up it. She turns to him, question in her gaze, and he just smiles.
"I may have been delirious from the head injury, love, but you know I would never let that happen to you again."
Emma's expression pinches just a fraction more before she turns her anger back on Glass.
Glass, however, is predictable, and before Emma can make good on the threat in her stance, he perks, "You would never let that happen to her? Love?" He inches forward, smartly wary of Emma, and grins, "You two are together? How long? Is it love, your highness?" In a near perfect mimic of Killian's voice, he repeats, "Love." He nods to himself. "Must be. I got it all wrong."
"Are you surprised?"
"I'm not," Emma pipes in easily.
Of course, it's easy. They're technically not lying. Killian isn't, certainly.
Killian grins at her, his amusement not faked for her benefit - because this show is for her, of course, to give Glass this new idea to latch onto. He'll take it where it needs to go, through all the right channels, to all the right ears. By the end of the day, Emma will no longer be on the watch lists but on the "One to Watch" lists. Which is a step up, if not a very high one considering Glass is one of the curators of said lists.
"How long have you two been together? How did you meet? Can I take pictures?"
Glass has his hand on his pocket and Killian moves to stop him -
"Sidney, I didn't invite you here to take advantage of our hospitality. I invited you here to make your apologies to Prince Killian and Emma Swan." There's a pause, and Killian turns to face the newcomer as she says, "And as Sidney's already signed a nondisclosure agreement in accordance with us not pressing charges against him for defamation of character, you do not have to answer any of those questions."
Killian tries not to let his relief show so much, but he isn't sure he manages. Thankfully, all eyes are focused on Mary Margaret as she turns to Emma.
"Hello, Emma, it's lovely to see you again," she says cheerily, friendly, knowingly.
Emma lifts a brow, but plays her part so well, that her, "Yeah, you too," is as believable as it comes.
It almost sounds real, and when she turns to him, the look in her eyes seems real too, the same relief he feels reflected in her gaze.
"Allow me to show Mr. Glass out, and then I'll attend to my regular duties," Mary Margaret says, and with that, she walks towards Glass, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and easing him out the room before he can say anything more.