Killian looks at Emma, who has tucked her knees into her chest and rests her chin on top of them. She looks so young right now and he feels a tremendous sense of responsibility for her wellbeing. Even if he doesn't consider his place of birth his home (not anymore), and even if he doesn't swear allegiance to the corrupt government that ended his brother's life, he knows that the monarchs are just figure-heads, and Emma is innocent of any crime. It would hardly be good form to not take care of her now.
(And that has nothing to do with how he felt moments earlier, when she first caught his eye in the crowd.)
"So what do we do with a drunken princess?" he asks quietly. "Do you have armed guards or something?" Killian tries to keep his tone light and ignorant, though he knows very well that guarding the royal family was a responsibility of the military, but only those who did exceptionally well advanced to that position.
Emma shakes her head vigorously, curls falling on her shoulders.
"We can't tell them – they'll just tell my parents," Emma says. There is fear in her eyes. "My mom didn't want me to come here."
Killian remembers the gentle smile of the Queen, and he can only imagine having to part with her only daughter. "Okay, we come up with another plan. How are you feeling?"
"Better now that I…" Emma trails. She blushes, turning pink all over (it's impressive, really, how the blush spreads over her exposed limbs and Killian clears his throat and looks away). "I'm sorry. I am so ridiculous right now."
"If that counts as ridiculous, your highness, then I'm eager to see what else you get up to." Killian winks at her, and she blushes more. He can't look at her without blushing himself, and so he stares at a chipped section of tile on the floor. He takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts (she is a distraction, Emma is, and he would willingly allow himself to be distracted forever if she was in a better state).
He makes a decision. "Here's what we'll do – let's collect that brunette friend of yours, get some food into both of you, and I'll make sure you get home."
Emma frowns, brow furrowing. "You don't have to do that. We can get home on our own."
He raises an eyebrow. "Really? If your friend had as much to drink as you…"
Emma sighs, defeated. "Fine. But we're stopping at Jimmy John's. And I'm paying."
There is no room for arguing with her tone, and so he teases, "You're quick to give commands - and here I thought you were just a princess, not a queen." Emma's lips quirk up in a smile, and Killian feels pleased with himself for her reaction.
He stands, extending a hand to help her up and she sighs again before she takes it. As he pulls her towards him, the fingers of his other hand skim her hips and jolt of longing – of what he felt earlier – surges through him. He reaches behind her, bodies brushing against each other, and grabs the mouthwash that Eric kept near the sink.
"Rinse your mouth out – it'll make you feel better. I'll wait for you outside."
She nods, gripping the bottle like it's a lifeline, and he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Her purse is on the bed – she must have dropped it. He sits down next to it, drops his head into his hands, and lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Killian's hatred for the politics of his country collide with the innocence and beauty of the crown princess, whose body he was touching mere moments before and whose mouth he was desperately kissing before that, and oh god.
He is about to take the crown princess out for a sandwich and escort her safely back to her dorm.
How did he get here? And, more specifically, what happens next?
Before he can figure it out, the door opens quietly and Emma slips out, turning the light off behind her.
"Thanks," she says again, looking around for her purse. Killian grabs it and stands, handing it to her.
"Of course, your highness."
Emma rolls her eyes. "Ruby doesn't know I'm royalty. She thinks my security detail is just a guy who's in my major. So don't call me 'your highness' in front of her, please."
"Of course, your highness, wouldn't dream of it," Killian says with a wink and a nod. Emma slings her purse strap over her shoulder and tilts her head, smiling at him.
"Thanks – you're being really cool about this." Emma pauses. "Too cool, actually." He can see her gaze harden, turn from thoughtful to suspicious, and he doesn't know what to do because he hasn't thought that far beyond the feigned ignorance in the bathroom earlier.
If he tells her that he's from her kingdom, there's the chance she could find out about him before he can tell her himself (wishful thinking, Killian, that she might stick around that long). If he doesn't, and she finds out eventually, then she'll be angry that he lied to her. None of the options look good and so he scrambles as the silence stretches between them and all they can hear is the pounding bass from downstairs.
"What if I told you that royalty or not, I'm hoping to endear myself enough to you so that I can get your number?" The explanation, however shaky and patched together, seems to work for Emma. She bites her lip coyly, and his heart flip-flops in his chest.
He is a goner.
…
Jimmy John's is a fluorescent nightmare, and Emma is feeling tired from the alcohol and the events of the evening. She orders her usual ("number twelve") and reaches into her purse to pull out her wallet and credit card. She hands it to the cashier after the others finish ordering, and when Ruby bounces off towards the soda fountains, she turns to look at Killian.
She's sure that she looks a wreck, makeup smeared and hair a mess, but he looks ridiculously hot in his t-shirt and jeans. He keeps running his hands through his hair but when he notices her looking at him, he turns and smiles, and her stomach does a somersault.
He is undoubtedly the hottest guy she's never met and the way that he hands her a drink cup then ushers her towards the soda machine confirms that he's a perfect gentleman too.
Emma won't forget the way how kind he was to her when she completely embarrassed herself (she can feel her skin flush when she thinks of how silly she must seem, getting sick from cheap beer) and she watches him out of the corner of his eye as he dips to pick up two bags of chips from below the counter. She gets Coke, and glances over to find Ruby talking to some guys in a nearby booth.
"She's something else," Killian says, his voice right beside her ear. Emma takes a step away because his presence next to her is more than she can handle at the moment (she still wants to make out with him so bad, but even though he's saying nice things to her, she can't be sure that he wants the same).
"That's our Ruby," she says with a shrug. "Better go stop her from getting into trouble."
She glides up to Ruby and links her arm through hers, not even glancing at the boys that Ruby is talking to because suddenly no other male can hold her attention as much as the one she just walked away from. "Let's go, darling," she says, steering Ruby away from the pack of boys and towards the counter, where Killian stands holding their sandwiches.
Emma pushes Ruby into the nearest booth, and slides in beside her. Killian slides in across from them.
Ruby starts up a steady conversation that meanders all over the place from his band to his major to the frat (which he is not a member of, but apparently he's friends with Eric too) and it moves so fast that Emma can't keep up so she just chews, eats her chips slowly, and watches Killian handle Ruby with composure that only her mother could match. It's impressive, to say the least, and when Ruby climbs over her to head to the bathroom, she tells him as much.
"Thanks for being so nice to Ruby," she tells him with a smile, and he smiles back, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck.
"It's easy to be nice to someone as friendly as her," he responds. His eyes are so blue in this harsh light, and she likes that.
She likes him, and she hasn't ever felt this way before.
There is an awkward pause as both of them clean up their sandwich wrappers and stand, throwing away the garbage in a nearby trashcan. Emma refills her Coke before Ruby returns, and by the time they're back on the way to the dorms, she feels more than sober.
She also feels more than alive because as they walk, her hand touches Killian's (who seems to want to walk so close to her that their arms brush and her breath catches ever time) while Ruby keeps walking and talking, leaving them in her wake. Every touch is like brushing against a live wire, sending heat and energy through her body into her core, and she feels dizzy and breathless in its wake.
"I've never seen the inside of these dorms," Killian points out once they reach their residence hall, and Ruby stops, spins around, a smile on her face.
"And you won't, because boys aren't allowed after eight," she teases in a sing-song voice, and Killian shoves his hands in his pockets, raises his eyebrows.
"Maybe I'll stop back sometime before eight," he responds, and Ruby laughs as she reaches into her purse and pulls out her prox card.
"I'll see you upstairs, Em," she says, swiping her prox card against the pad, and the door clicks open. She waves once at them, and then closes the door behind her.
They look at each other for a moment, shyness spreading between them, and Emma decides to break it the tension. What she's going to do is reckless and Graham AND Leroy would fuss at her, but she doesn't care. "Let me see your phone."
Killian quirks an eyebrow before reaching into his back pocket. He types in the lock code and then hands it to her. She takes a few moments, presses a few buttons, and then hands it back to him. From her purse, she hears her phone buzz and she smiles at his confusion.
"Thanks for giving me your number, Killian," she says, turning towards the door, excited about the dazed look in his eyes, but he reaches out and grabs her wrist before she can fully turn away. His grip is light but enough to make her stop and spin back towards him. And that is when he moves
He cups her head with both hands, takes a deep breath, and kisses her.
It is not desperate, like their first earlier tonight, but it is not easy either, and she rests her hands on his stomach, one hand clutching her keys in her fist, as the kisses deepens. He kisses her like she's the only thing he wants to taste, like he can't get enough of her and there's something about that which makes her legs go weak.
She stops the kiss, takes a shaky breath before resting her forehead against his. "I'll see you around, okay?" she says softly.
"Yes," he breathes, and when she steps back and turns away this time, he doesn't follow her.
"Goodnight, Emma," he calls softly, and she can't look back at him because she won't want to stop moving forward. She swipes her prox card, opens the door, and escapes into the dim residence hall.
(She cannot sleep that night because she wants nothing more than to think of him, of his eyes and his face and his hands, the taste of him, and she buries her face in her pillow to contain her excitement).
…
Killian spends most of Sunday staring at his phone, drafting text messages that he doesn't dare send because none of them are right (and that's because he doesn't know what he's doing when it comes to Emma).
Emma. He swears he can still feel her curls between his fingers, still taste her on his lips.
When he wakes up late Sunday morning, the events of the past night crash into him with such force that he cannot help but feel overwhelmed. The possibility that someone from his country could actually be here, that he would meet them at a party, and that person might just be the Crown Princess…
It occurs to him that he probably shouldn't have made out with her, but she seemed to like it.
He knows he did.
Robin, his roommate, rolls in around 2pm (from where, Killian doesn't know and doesn't ask) and glances at Killian before heading straight to the fridge and grabbing a soda.
"You look flustered," he says, sitting down on the couch opposite Killian. "Walk of shame gone wrong? Was the gig last night really that bad?"
Killian sets the phone down, checking to make sure he hasn't sent the message that he was working on accidentally. Robin knows all about his backstory and why he's here, and Killian knows that he will probably have a few choice words for the situation that he's put himself in, which means he'll have to fluff the details, because he can still remember the look on Emma's face when she mentioned her mother (and protecting Emma is the only way he can justify that this as not being bad form).
"I met a girl last night from back home," he says. Robin's eyes widen in surprise.
"Didn't think there were many of you here," Robin tells him. He takes a sip of his soda. "And?"
"You know how I feel about…that time in my life."
"But you like her," Robin points out. "Or you wouldn't be agonizing over sending her a text."
Killian pinches the bridge of his noise between his fingers. "It's that obvious, isn't it?"
"You don't get like this over girls – well, ever, now that I think of it…" Robin smiles at him. "We've got that station meeting at 3pm, so I'm going to shower and then we should head over."
Killian sighs and reaches for his phone. He had completely forgotten about the station-wide meeting that the general manager of their radio station, Regina, had scheduled for today. He's actually grateful, because it means that he'll be able to distract himself from Emma for at least an hour, maybe more.
He stares at the text message one more time before opening his email instead. Maybe absence will make the heart grow fonder, and will help him figure out what to text a princess.
…
Killian does not text her, and Emma grows impatient.
"Have you heard from him?" Ruby asks at lunch on Tuesday. Emma pokes her salad with her fork. From across the room she can see Graham, her security detail, eating lunch and keeping an eye on her. She desperately hopes that he cannot hear this conversation, that he is blissfully ignorant of the struggles of her heart because that is the last thing her mother needs to hear about.
"No." She doesn't like the radio silence that seems to be going on between Killian and herself, and yet she doesn't know what to do to end it. She's a princess. She's rich. Most of her relationships have been arranged by her parents – heavily chaperoned "get to know you" dates which usually end with Emma vowing to never be set up again.
"So why haven't you texted him?"
Emma glances up at Ruby and realizes that she's absolutely serious.
"I don't know," Emma says. It's the truth. She's so used to having other people do the work for her that the one moment of recklessness – using his phone to get his number – seems like a distant memory. She blinks.
"What would I even say?" she asks. Ruby smiles.
"Give me your phone. I'll type something, and you get final approval."
Emma fishes her phone out of her bag and hands it to Ruby, who types something and then hands it back to her.
Hey! How is your Tuesday going?
"That's lame," Emma points out. Ruby shrugs.
"It's progress. Just send it, Em, and see what happens."
Nervously, Emma presses 'Send', and the message drifts out into the ether. She puts her phone back into her bag. "Just so you know, if he doesn't respond and my heart is broken, I'm counting on you to buy me ice cream."
"He's going to text you back," Ruby reassures her. "But yes, my darling, I will buy you all of the ice cream you so deserve for having your heart broken, and I will play Taylor Swift and cry with you, because that boy was choice." She pauses, and smiles. "But I think he'll text you back."
"Whatever." Emma turns back to her lunch, trying to not be hyper-aware of the silent phone in her bag. After lunch is political science then women's studies, and that is when her phone buzzes.
Please don't be an email, please don't be an email, Emma wishes frantically as she tries to discretely check her phone. She grabs it out of her bag and puts it on her lap, then turns her attention back to the professor at the front of the class.
She presses a button and – there it is: a message from Killian.
Could be better – TR are my 8 to 8 days. What about you?
She smiles. He responded. And he asked back. But what if this is just him being polite? What if he doesn't really know what to say because he's really not that interested?
Ten more minutes then I'm free for the day.
Oh god, was that too forward? Was she asking him out? She just wants to talk to him, she doesn't know if she's ready for that – she texts more.
MWF are my rough days – 8 am class. I am a glutton for punishment.
She turns back to the professor who is talking about gender as a social construct. Her phone buzzes.
How awful. My MWF are usually wide open.
What does that even mean?
Class ends and Emma leaves, phone in her hand, wondering what she should text before it buzzes again.
So, we have band practice tomorrow night but if you're bored in the afternoon, you should stop by my radio show. Basement of Truman – 4-6pm.
He's a dj? And he plays in a band? Suddenly Killian seems way cooler than he was previously, and Emma is momentarily speechless. What would Ruby say?
I'd like that.
His response is quick and includes an emoticon.
Great :) See you tomorrow then.
Her phone buzzes again.
Your highness.
She can't even find the energy to be mad at him because all of her energy is directed in her fervent desire not to make a fool of herself by jumping up and down in the middle of campus.
(She does it anyway).