Title: New Routines
Rated: T for any language I may have forgotten was in here.
Summary: Emma's daily routines are a matter of habit. When she wakes up late one morning, her routines all change for the better. Killian doesn't care about routines, but he does care about Emma.
A/N: Date night for our burgeoning lovebirds. Thank you so much to all that have responded to this in any way. Every notification and email I get regarding this just lights up my whole day.
CHAPTER 3: New Routines
The change in their routine after Killian asks her out is slow but noticeable. Their smiles are a little wider when they pass each other, their eyes linger a little longer when they say good morning. She pops in to see him every time she and Belle need to visit Neverendings, and he tags along any time Will is going to visit Belle, lingering at the entrance to her cubicle and trying everything in his power to make her blush. He succeeds more often than not.
Emma hasn't said one way or the other about going out with Killian, but it doesn't seem to scare him off. She hates that she has baggage to carry around, but it is the one thing standing in her way of starting anything with him.
It's Will that casually mentions that she's not alone in that department. He stops by with lunch for Belle one day, no Killian trailing behind him. When he sees Emma's head peeking out of her cubicle, he sends her a genuinely apologetic look.
"He's gotten saddled with another project. He wanted to come," Will says. He comes forward a bit while Belle is still occupied with work and stands in the doorway of her cubicle. "Emma," Will starts, "you should probably know something about Killian." Emma's heart stops when he says this. She's expecting the worst, as always. She stares at him expectantly.
"Is he a polygamist? Does he have three wives that I should know about?" Will laughs, shakes his head.
"No, nothing like that. He just hasn't been in a relationship in a long time. Had his heart broken clean in two the last time. If I'm not mistaken, that's something the two of you have in common," he says gently. There's something about the way he's says it. This is a level of friendship they've never crossed, preferring witty banter and disguised hatred to show their friendly affection for each other instead.
"I'm guessing he doesn't know you're telling me this?" Emma asks.
"No. Probably tell me to mind my own bloody business. But it's funny. About a month and a half ago he started smiling to way he used to," Will says, conspiratorial look in his eyes. It's that moment that Belle straightens from her desk and rounds the cubicle to stand by Will.
"We're going to eat in the courtyard today. Would you like to join us?" Belle asks, her fingers linking with Will's like she doesn't even know she's doing it. The sight makes something in Emma's stomach clench and she tears her eyes away from their joined hands and turns back to her work.
"No. You two enjoy. I'll see you after lunch."
They turn to leave her alone, but Emma calls back to Will before he gets too far.
"Thanks. I'll try not to be too mean to you from now on," she says.
"Bollocks! That's half the fun of it!" he states, grinning from ear to ear and turning around as Emma laughs. She glances at the clock when she's alone again, then logs off her computer to go find her own lunch.
Killian is bent over his desk, papers spread from one side to the other, and his attention is divided between the papers and his computer monitor. His hair is messed up, the product of moving his hands through it too often, much like he's doing now, and Emma is struck by how adorable he is when he's flustered. She's been standing in his door for at least a full minute and he still hasn't looked up, so she slowly moves into the room and sits in the chair across from him.
"Be with you in just a minute," he mumbles as he checks something on the page in front of him.
"Take your time," she says, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles out when his head whips up to look at her.
"Well you're just a sight for sore eyes, love," he says after opening and closing his mouth a few times.
"I thought you might be hungry. Will told me you had to work through lunch." She places the take-out bag from Granny's on the only clear spot on his desk. The gratitude is clear on his face as he looks between the bag and Emma.
"I'm forever in your debt, Swan," he says, finally reaching for the bag and opening it. When the scent of his favorite hits him, he just holds the bag to his chest for a moment before digging out the food. While he's occupied, she slides a napkin next to his computer with her number on it. She knows he'll love her covert way of passing it on to him.
"You can repay me by taking me out on that date," Emma says nonchalantly, rising from the chair and heading for the door before he has an opportunity to even react. She's out the door before he can respond, smile spread across her lips from the absolutely flabbergasted expression on his face as she left.
Emma's not surprised when she gets a text message later in the day from him.
You're a sly one, Emma Swan.
She grins and turns back to her work, smiling even through the worst of the surveys and their inability to understand anything about graphic design.
It takes them a week to find time to go on a date. They promise not to talk about work before they even sit down in the restaurant. It's a small place, all ambient lighting and blue linen tablecloths. He's in the dark gray slacks he usually wears to work, but he's wearing a plan black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Emma has a hard time not staring at the patch of chest hair she can see where he's left a few buttons undone. It's a battle to maintain eye contact between that and his forearms, she decides as they sit reading the menus.
She opted for her favorite skirt and a pale pink blouse that shows off just the right amount of cleavage appropriate for a first date. When the waiter comes to take their drink order, he asks her if she wants wine. She agrees to a glass of whatever he chooses and when the waiter leaves, she speaks up.
"But I'm only having the one glass," she says plainly.
"Why is that, Swan? Afraid you won't be able to resist me after all?" The look he gives her from over his menu as he says this can only be described as 'devilish' and she reminds her hormones that first dates do not mean sex.
"No, I seem to remember you saying something about not wanting to kiss me when there's so much alcohol in the way," she says, tone casual, eyes still scanning her menu. She's pleased to see that he swallows hard after that and presses his lips together.
"Just one it is, then," he replies after a minute. They slip back into silence until after their meals are ordered and he returns his attentions to her. She has to stop herself from staring too long at his eyes, a deeper blue in the low lighting, but then they just shift to his lips, or his chest, or those damn forearms and she sips nervously at her wine as she tries to think of anything to say.
"Swan," he says, and it's just that word, just her last name, and she knows exactly what he's saying. Why are you so nervous?
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just a weird shift. Three weeks ago you were just the hot guy I passed on the way to work," she says, all in a rush, not realizing what she's said until it's already out of her mouth.
"The hot guy, huh?" he says with a cheeky grin and a twinkle in his eyes.
"What did you think of me as before you knew my name?"
"Blonde goddess," he says without a moment of thought, and she raises an eyebrow at him. "You had your hair all wrapped up around your head that day, and the same skirt you're wearing now. You looked ethereal, Swan. Robin is thrilled that I've only been late once in the entire time I've started walking to work early just to see you."
It's her turn to swallow hard, hearing his admission, and knowing that the day that he was late was because she was late. She's grateful to her alarm only because it's the day that changed everything.
"Wow," she finally manages. She wants to rub her palms across her thighs, but is afraid of leaving sweat spots behind.
"I've been told I could write romance novels," he says, and it's the seriousness of his tone mixed with the smile in his eyes that finally makes Emma smile and calms her nerves.
"I'd buy them," she admits.
"The Adventures of Hot Guy and Blonde Goddess," he says, squinting his eyes above her head and stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I think they could be best sellers, love."
"And what adventures would we go on, Killian?" She sees his expression change for a heartbeat when she uses his first name before he leans forward, grabbing one of the hands she's placed on the table again.
"Epic battles, Swan. We couldn't have just any boring old love story. We would need action, fighting to find each other after being separated, and when it's all said and done we would share True Love's Kiss and you would turn me into a frog." She is so distracted by the way his fingers are rubbing over her knuckles, the deep timbre of his voice that she almost misses the last part, but she hears it, and she chortles at the picture he's painted.
Their meals arrive, then, breaking them apart and sending them to other topics while they eat. She finds out he was an English major, originally, before turning his sights on the publishing world. She learns he loves poetry and literature, and the romance novelist comment is even more believable after that. He promises to read her poetry someday, including that he'll use a lofty voice and all the pretention he can muster.
He asks about how she got into survey and data entry, and she only admits that she studied to be a graphic designer when she was in college, even interning at a place where she got to spread her wings in the world of graphic design. But a sudden move had her relocated and without a job, so when Belle told her to apply for a job at her place of employment, she was desperate enough to do so. She leaves out a lot of the details, but anything she's omitted is not first date material anyways.
When they leave, he holds out his arm for her to take again and automatically starts heading towards Emma's apartment building. They stop just outside the entrance, and it takes everything in Emma not to invite him up. Remembering her conversation with Will, Emma knows that Killian may have the same apprehensions.
"I suppose this is goodnight, then," Killian says, hands in his pockets. She's struck again by his gentleman act, that isn't actually an act. This is just who he is. She can feel how much he wants to kiss her radiating between them, but he's not moving forward based on assumptions. Stepping out of her comfort zone, Emma moves a step closer to him. She threads one hand into the hair at the base of his neck and slides the other up his chest. His hands come down to rest on her waist even though he gasps in surprise. She redirects at the last second and kisses his cheek. She can feel his heartbeat racing and holds back the laugh that wants to tumble out of her.
"Goodnight, Killian," she whispers when she pulls back. She turns quickly and dashes up the stairs to her building.
"Blood hell," she hears him mutter and her laughter finally spills out of her as the door shuts behind her. She gets a single text from him a few minutes later, three small words written on the screen, and she laughs giddily when she reads them.
Bad form, Swan.
She resists replying more than a smiley face and instead goes to get ready for bed, still floating on the high of simply being around Killian.
On Monday morning, she walks to the corner as she always does, not entirely surprised to see him standing on the other corner already. When the signal changes, they check both ways and walk across the street at the same pace. He's opening his mouth to make some smart remark, but she beats him to it, instead pulling him forward by his tie and covering his mouth with hers. With a noise of surprise, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. She keeps a hold on his tie and runs her other hand through his hair again, relishing the silky feel of it between her fingers.
She subtly sways them to turn and breaks away just as suddenly as she started the kiss.
"Good morning, Killian," she says, as sweetly as possible, and then swiftly moves away, continuing down the street as he remains dumbstruck to the spot she left him. She looks back once before she turns the corner and winks at him. A little relieved to finally see him move his hand and wave at her as a satisfied smile takes over his whole face.
"Good morning, Emma!" follows her around the corner, and she's glad he can't see the way she laughs delightedly. She's not even upset when three bodybuilders crowd her into the back of the elevator when she arrives.