AN: I don't think I've really said this at all yet so I just wanna take a moment to thank everyone that's taken the time to read this story, everyone that's reviewed, everyone that's followed and favorited (liked, given kudos, bookmarked). Just, srsly thank you so much. I went into this assuming I was going to be the only one enjoying this story so it makes me indescribably happy that you all seem to be enjoying it too. :')
(Un-beta'ed)
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Emma grumbled in displeasure as the sunlight filtered in from between her haphazardly shut curtains and assaulted her eyes. She winced as she rolled over to face the wall, her head aching as if she'd been hit upside it with a baseball bat. She cringed at the horrible taste in her mouth as she pulled the covers over her head to hide from the light.
Just a few more minutes… she bargained, snuggling further down into the mass of pillows she usually slept on.
Her eyes popped open a second later as panic suddenly surged through her. She cursed as she desperately tried to untangle herself from the bed sheets, flinging her arm out in search of the cell phone she usually left on her bedside table. She squinted as her eyes attempted to adjust to the light and push her tangled, blonde hair out of her face with her free hand. She cursed again when she realized her cell phone wasn't in its usual place and all but tumbled from her bed and into her living room in search of her purse.
She looked for five minutes before sighing in defeat and racking her brain as she tried to recall where she'd last had it. She'd had it last night at the bar with Killian, in the car on her way home, in the hallway when she'd…Oh God, when she'd kissed Killian. Panic rushed through her as she groaned and raked her fingers through her hair. She'd made out with one of her best friends, with her partner; what the hell was she going to do? How was she going to explain this?
Blame the rum, said a voice in her head. She nodded frantically in response and promptly moaned in pain, her headache suddenly a hundred times worse.
"Gotta find my purse," she mumbled to herself as she trudged toward the door and pulled it open. She checked the floor outside the door first, then around the corner just to be sure; nothing. Cursing again, she plodded toward the building's entrance hoping Killian had left it in her car. Emma shivered as she pushed open the door and stepped outside, the thin material of her pajama pants and tank top doing little to shield her from the cold autumn air.
After finding her car and locating the key (thank God for that magnetic key holder Mary Margaret had gotten her for Christmas last year), she desperately searched beneath the seats, in the glove compartment, and anywhere else her purse might fit.
"Shit," she muttered, biting her lip and giving the interior another quick glance. She shut the door and ran to the front of the bug, realizing she had yet to search her trunk. Emma sighed in relief when she lifted the door to find her purse, her shoes, and her sweater. A flame of guilt flickered within her when she realized that Killian had to have hidden her things here after she'd left him in the hall. Pushing the thought from her mind, she quickly grabbed her purse and shut the trunk.
Emma rummaged through her bag as she made her way back to her apartment, muttering triumphantly when she finally located her phone; nine missed calls and four texts messages. She grumbled as she shut her door behind her and bolted it, scrolling through her call log as she made her way to the couch in her living room and sat.
Eight of the missed calls and three of texts were from David and Graham (she was supposed to be at work hours ago, they must've been wondering where she was), one call from a number she didn't recognize and one text Mary Margaret had sent the night before asking how things had gone at Jefferson's bar.
Emma bit her lip as she tapped the icon by her brother's name and brought the phone to her ear; he answered after the first ring.
"Emma? You were supposed to be in at eight, where are you? Is everything alright?" David asked in lieu of a hello.
"I'm fine, David. My phone died and I overslept, is all," she assured him hoarsely, her throat raw and dry from her over imbibing the night before, "I'm not feeling that great though, do you mind if I use a sick day?"
There was a pause as he presumably thought her request through. "Of course," he replied softly, "Do you need anything? I can stop at the pharmacy on my lunch break if you do."
"No, really I'm fine. I think I just need to sleep it off," she said, smiling softly and sinking back into the couch, "Thank you, though."
After wishing her well and ordering her to bed, she and David hung up. She shot Graham a quick text explaining that she wasn't coming in, knowing her brother would fill him in on the rest, and exhaled deeply as she laid down sideways on the couch and curled into herself. Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to wander as sleep slowly began to reclaim her. The last thought she recalled before dropping off sends her into a fitful sleep; Killian hadn't called. He'd known where she was supposed to be and he hadn't been worried, hadn't checked in on her.
It was her own fault, she knew that, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
The shrill chiming of her text message alert startled her awake about an hour later. She grumbled and entered her unlock code, her stomach dropping in disappointment when she saw that it was from Mary Margaret.
Heard you were taking a sick day. Everything okay?
Just a migraine, she lied, rising from the couch to fetch herself a much needed glass of water (or five).
K, feel better, said Mary Margaret's reply (which would've made Emma suspicious had she been able to think clearly).
She sent back a quick "thanks" in response, setting her phone down on the kitchen counter before throwing back another glass of water and making her way back to the couch to resume her nap.
She was awakened a couple of hours later by someone knocking on her front door. She tried to ignore it at first, hoping that they would assume she wasn't home and leave, but the knocking persisted. Emma whined as she rolled off the couch and shuffled over to answer the door. She didn't bother to look through the peep hole, simply unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal Mary Margaret.
"Hey," her friend greeted, smiling softly and holding up a brown paper bag, "I brought you some soup from that diner you like."
"Oh, great," Emma croaked, moving over to allow her friend inside.
Mary Margaret glided into the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter before pulling a bowl from the cabinet and a spoon from the drawer. "Sit," she instructed, gesturing to the couch Emma had been occupying for most of the day.
Emma nodded slightly in response before lumbering over and dropping heavily onto the sofa.
"So," Mary Margaret began, stirring the soup she'd just pulled from Emma's microwave, "Feeling any better?"
"A little," Emma mumbled, rubbing her face tiredly, "I feel like I could sleep for a week though."
Mary Margaret hummed thoughtfully as she walked the bowl of soup over to her and held it out for her to take.
"Thanks," she said quietly, accepting the bowl and bringing it toward her, "How's everything at the station today?"
"Oh, fine," Mary Margaret replied vaguely as she sat, "Pretty quiet, actually. You picked a good day to be sick."
Emma sniffed a laugh and brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. "Good to know."
"So how'd last night go?" Mary Margaret asked abruptly, crossing her ankles and gazing at her friend thoughtfully.
"Oh," Emma began, nonchalantly bringing another spoonful of soup to her lips, "It went alright."
Mary Margaret nodded and knowingly eyed her friend. "Just 'alright,' huh? Is that why you're hung over as all hell and Killian's been moping around the prescient all day?"
Emma coughed as she choked on the mouthful of soup she'd been swallowing. She felt Mary Margaret take the bowl from her and hand her a napkin. The brunette waited patiently as she regained her composure.
"Okay, yeah, I'm hung over. That can happen when you drink on an empty stomach," she said, picking up the soup again and stirring it.
"And Killian?" Mary Margaret asked softly.
"What about him?" Emma grumbled moodily, stuffing another spoonful in her mouth.
"Come on, Emma," she heard Mary Margaret scoff, "You really think you can pull one over me? I know you two better than most and I know something is wrong. What happened?"
Emma bit her lip and sighed as she rested the bowl in her lap. "We kind of…made out a little," she confessed quietly, her eyes glued to the coffee table in front of her.
"Hmm, only a little, huh?" her friend replied, amusement lacing her tone.
Emma bit back a smile and met Mary Margaret's eyes. "Yeah."
"How'd the meeting with Jefferson go? Was Tamara's intel good?" she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.
Emma nodded and silently thanked her for changing the subject. "It was. We struck a deal and he's going to get in touch ASAP."
"Good, good," she replied, rising from the couch and shucking her jacket, "I wish I could've been there but, well, you know how my parents are."
"Yeah," she said quietly, her eyes following the brunette as she wandered into the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. Silence fell between them as Mary Margaret traipsed back to the living room and handed a glass to Emma. She smiled in thanks as the other woman resumed her position on the couch and sipped her beverage.
"It was bound to happen, you know," Mary Margaret said eventually, her green eyes soft.
"What was?" Emma asked confusedly, her brow furrowed.
"You and Killian," she replied matter-of-factly, taking another sip of water.
Emma felt her body tense. "There's no 'me and Killian,' Mary Margaret," she claimed, "What happened was an accident, a one-time thing."
"Guess that explains Killian's kicked puppy impression this morning," Mary Margaret mumbled, "How exactly was it an 'accident,' though? Did you trip and accidently attach your lips to his face?"
"I told you, I was drunk," Emma scoffed, defensively crossing her arm over her middle.
Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow. "You sure that's not just an excuse, Emma?"
"It's not," she insisted petulantly, averting her eyes from her friend's knowing gaze.
"Alright, whatever you say," Mary Margaret granted, rising from the sofa and returning to the kitchen to deposit her used glass in the sink. "You think you're well enough to still attend mine and David's engagement party tomorrow night?"
Emma bit her lip in contemplation; not only would her brother kill her if she missed his engagement party, but her best friend would be crushed. Whatever was going on between her and Killian was going to have to take a backseat for the night.
"Of course I'll be there," she responded, rising from the couch and walking over to her friend, "Thanks for checking on me."
"That's what friends are for, right?" Mary Margaret smiled, pulling Emma into a hug.
She nodded as Mary Margaret pulled away and moved to retrieve her jacket.
"Feel better, okay?" she said, her hand propping open the door as she half-turned to meet Emma's eyes, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," Emma repeated quietly as Mary Margaret closed the door behind her.
She woke early the next morning, well-rested from having slept the majority of the day before. The morning air outside was brisk as she exited her apartment with the intention of running a couple of quick errands. Emma shivered slightly as a sharp breeze greeted her and pulled the beanie on her head down over her ears. She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and took a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs and waking her up a bit more. She crossed the street after checking for oncoming traffic and made her way to the grocery store a few blocks over.
The thrum of her boots on the linoleum floor echoed as she walked down the empty liquor aisle; it was Saturday morning, most people were still sleeping and those that weren't probably weren't buying a bottle of merlot at eight in the morning. After grabbing the largest moderately priced bottle she could find, she grabbed a basket and went about finding the other items on her list.
An hour later she was home, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and hot cup of coco warming her from the inside out. She tried distracting herself with whatever was on television this early (which wasn't much, truth be told) but her mind kept drifting back to what had happened with Killian the other night. Emma sighed and took a large sip from her mug, cradling it in her hands in an effort to warm her fingers. There were so many other things she should be focusing on right now, things like planning this heist they were apparently going to pull or figuring out how to get Gold's key off of him or worrying about whether or not she could really trust Jefferson. Her relationship with her partner should definitely not be occupying her mind as much as it seemed to be, and yet she couldn't seem to stop it from going there.
Emma knew that they'd have to talk about it eventually; if nothing else, it was the only way she'd be able to get herself to refocus on what really mattered. But she was afraid, afraid to know just how much her actions had changed things between them. She'd admitted to herself a long time ago that her feelings for Killian were…decidedly more than friendly. But admitting that to him? It was a complication that neither of them needed, especially when they were so close.
She sighed again, at a loss, and drained her mug before shutting the television off and rising from the sofa. She busied herself with cleaning and organizing her apartment for the remainder of the day and by the time five o'clock rolled around, the dust had been removed from any and all surfaces, her hardwood floors were swept and mopped, her laundry washed and folded, and the books on her bookshelf alphabetized by title. Emma raked her fingers through her mussed hair and wandered over to her closet to select an outfit for the party that evening.
It was a family affair so that ruled out some of her more…thrilling outfits and there was probably going to be a lot of standing so comfortable shoes were definitely a must. Eventually, she settled on an emerald green dress that fell just above her knees and a pair of her favorite black pumps. Her attire selected, she made her way to the bathroom to wash off the day and ready herself for the night.
Anxiety knotted in her stomach as she pulled her yellow bug into an empty spot around the corner from David and Mary Margaret's building. After mentally slapping herself for behaving so ridiculously, she took a steadying breath, grabbed the bottle of wine she'd bought that morning, and pulled herself from the safety of her car. She combed her fingers nervously through her curls as she walked up the steps and pulled open the door to the lobby. Emma smiled shakily at the familiar security guard at the desk and made her way to the elevator.
The door to her brother's apartment was looming before her only minutes later as she took one more deep breath and reminded herself that tonight was not about her. She forced a smile onto her lips and rang the doorbell, cradling the bottle of wine in the crook of her arm. The door opened a few seconds later and her forced smile turned genuine when her eyes met her brother's.
"Emma, you're here," David cried, quickly pulling his little sister into a hug and cradling the back of her head with hand, "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, don't worry about me, I'm fine," she replied with a soft smile, pulling back slightly from his embrace to meet his concerned gaze, "How are you feeling? You're the one getting married in three months."
David released her from his hold, positively beaming at the mention of his upcoming wedding. "I'm great," he said with a smile, turning to observe his fiancé from across the room.
Emma's smile widened as she watched him, an ache of joy building in her chest; it had been a long time since she'd seen him this happy, since she'd seen him look at anyone other than her as reverently as he looked at Mary Margaret.
She shook her head a moment later as if to clear it and placed a hand on David's bicep. Emma bit back a smile as he started and abruptly returned his attention to her. "I'm going to go greet my future sister-in-law and drop this off in the kitchen," she told him, holding the bottle of wine by the neck for her brother to see and slipping off her jacket.
David nodded as he took the jacket from her and hung it on a hook by the door. He then wound an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "I'm really glad you're here," he said quietly, a sad smile replacing his joyful one.
"Me too," Emma said, swallowing thickly and meeting his eyes, acknowledging his unspoken wish that their mother could be too.
David squeezed her shoulder in reply and released her, steadying himself with a deep breath as she shot him a parting smile and walked in the direction of the kitchen. She exchanged quick hellos with some of the guests that she passed along the way, ignoring the disappointment that briefly flashed through her when she didn't come across Killian.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret called, waving her friend over.
Emma smiled and made her way across the room to join Mary Margaret in the kitchen.
"The lady of the hour," Emma greeted, placing the wine bottle on the counter and engulfing the brunette in a tight hug.
Mary Margaret laughed lightly and returned her hug. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better," she said knowingly as they pulled away.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Emma told her, smiling and releasing the other woman and gesturing to the merlot she'd brought. "I come bearing gifts."
"A gift that keeps on giving," she chuckled, widening her eyes at the size of the bottle and pointing at Emma, "You are definitely helping me with this."
Emma sniggered and leaned against the counter. "Gladly. Don't let me have too many glasses, though, I tend to make bad decisions when I drink too much."
"Haven't talked to him yet, huh?" she said, digging through a nearby drawer and pulling out a corkscrew.
Emma shook her head and pushed off the counter. "No. I think this is a conversation we should have in person," she said, licking her lips nervously as she pulled two wine glasses from the cabinet.
Mary Margaret nodded in agreement as she popped the cork from the bottle and grabbed one of the glasses in Emma's hands. "Just. Be honest with him, Emma, he deserves at least that," she implored, filling the glass in her hand and setting it on the counter.
"I know," Emma said softly, holding the other glass out for her friend to fill.
Silence permeated the room as Mary Margaret set down the bottle and picked up her own glass, swirling the liquid around a few times before taking a small sip.
"Come on," Mary Margaret said suddenly, smiling and grasping Emma's hand, "Let's say hello to my parents."
She spent the next half hour catching up with "Eva and Leo" and the hour and a half that followed mingling throughout the room. She'd been chatting amiably with Graham when she'd finally spotted him; he was on the other side of the room talking with a petite, blonde woman that Emma didn't recognize. An uninvited wave of jealousy crashed through her when the woman laughed at something he must've said and touched his arm. Emma dragged her eyes away from him and attempted to refocus her attention on Graham (who had been regaling her with one of the many amusing tales from his youth before she'd gotten distracted).
"—jumped the fence and tore a massive hole in my pants in the process," Graham told her, pausing to laugh at the memory, "I ran for at least a mile before realizing my underwear was completely on display."
Emma laughed loudly in response, attempting to compensate for missing half of his story. There was a lull in their conversation as they both took a pull from their respective beverages and Emma's eyes drifted back toward Killian before she could stop them. He was laughing at something she had said now, throwing back his head slightly and giving the room fleeting glimpses of his neck.
"Emma? Hello?" Graham asked, waving a hand in front of her and chuckling.
Emma shook her head and averted her gaze once more. "Sorry, did you say something?"
"You alright there, Nolan? I don't think I've ever seen you space out before," he said, his amusement shifting slightly into concern.
Emma laughed nervously and bit her lip. "I just have a lot on my mind tonight. Sorry."
The look on his face said that he didn't quite believe her but he made no attempt to discuss the matter further.
"I'm gonna go top this off," she told him, holding up her glass, "Talk to you later?"
Graham nodded and eyed her curiously as she smiled and made her way back to the kitchen. She managed to keep her eyes to herself along the way and sighed in relief when she found the kitchen empty. Emma downed the mouthful of wine that remained in her glass before setting it on the counter next to the bottle of merlot Mary Margaret had left there earlier. She folded her arms on the counter top and hunched over to rest her forehead on them. Relishing the silence and the break from idle conversation, she closed her eyes for a moment.
"Are you alright?" an accented female voice suddenly asked to her left.
Emma's eyes sprang open as she abruptly straightened herself and turned to address the interloper; it was the blonde Killian had been talking to. She bit back the belligerent response that threatened to escape her and smiled thinly.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I just need some air," she said, raking a hand through her hair as she moved to exit the room.
Her eyes quickly scanned the living room when she re-entered. Seeing no sign of Killian she sighed in frustration and made her way to the door that lead to the balcony. The frigid air caressed her skin as she stepped out into the night. Emma rubbed her hands up and down her arms a few times, futilely trying to rid herself of the goosebumps that had broken out across her skin.
"Fancy meeting you here."
She started at the greeting, her head quickly swiveling toward the voice.
"Killian," she choked, watching as he took a long pull from the cigarette between his fingers, "Since when do you smoke?"
He shrugged wordlessly and slowly exhaled, causing smoke to curl toward the sky as he puffed it out from between his lips. "I don't usually. Unless I'm stressed," he claimed, shifting his gaze to her as he gestured to the beer in his hand, "Or drinking."
"Oh," she said quietly, not knowing what else to say.
"You enjoying the party, then?" he asked, closing his eyes as he took another long drag from his cigarette.
"Yeah," she said, licking her lips nervously as she took a step toward him, "You seem like you've been enjoying yourself too."
He opened his eyes at that and raised an eyebrow, flicking the half-smoked cigarette off the side of the balcony. "What, are you watching me now, Swan?"
"No," Emma lied, scoffing for added effect as she leaned against the railing a few feet away from him, "I just happened to glance over and saw you laughing with someone, that's all."
She saw his eyes narrow as he studied her in the dim light. "'That's all,' eh?"
Emma shrugged and obstinately stared at the ground to avoid meeting his eyes, knowing he'd see the truth in them.
Killian sighed tiredly and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Tell me, are we actually going to talk about this or are we just going to keep pretending like nothing happened?"
Emma bit her lip and hesitantly met his eyes. "I'm sorry," she said softly as she crossed her arms over her chest, "I was kind of drunk and you were there and…It won't happen again, I promise."
A tense silence fell between them as he considered her statement. "That's what you're going with? You're blaming the alcohol?"
"Well, yeah…" she said slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Come on, Emma, did you really I was going to accept that excuse? 'It was the rum', bloody hell, lass," he grumbled, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.
"It's not an excuse when it's the truth, Killian," she retorted, be beginnings of annoyance bubbling within her.
He laughed hollowly and looked her dead in the eye. "You and I both know that's a lie."
Anger flashed through her as she rose from her place against the railing to better meet his gaze. "What do you want me to tell you, Killian? That I'm in love with you? It was just a kiss."
"What I want is for you to be honest with me," he countered, stepping closer to her and invading her space.
"I am," she whispered, her voice breaking.
He sighed and shook his head, his gaze softening. "No you're not, and you're not being honest with yourself either."
"It was a mistake, okay," she denied weakly, a part of her knowing he was right, "It meant nothing."
Her words left a bad taste on her tongue as his knowing eyes searched hers. "What I felt was far from nothing, Emma, and I know you felt it too," he whispered sadly as he took a step away from her.
Emma swallowed thickly, guilt stabbing through her for being the cause of his misery.
"How we may or may not feel about each other doesn't matter, Killian," she said softly, her tone resolute.
Killian inhaled shakily and licked his lips. "Go ahead then, enlighten me. Why doesn't it matter?" he asked despondently.
"Because we have a mission," she began, earnestly meeting his gaze, "A mission that's bigger than either of us, a mission that has to come first. Our personal feelings don't matter. What does is whether or not we can finish what we started."
"Our personal feelings are what started all of this in the first place. How can you say that they don't matter now?" Killian asked earnestly as he stepped toward her once more, their faces inches apart.
Emma exhaled shakily, his nearness causing her head to swim. "We are so close to ending this, Killian, we cannot afford any unnecessary distractions."
He studied her silently for a moment, his too blue eyes roving her face. Realizing that he wasn't going to sway her, he nodded in defeat and leaned back a little. "Perhaps you're right," he said softly.
Emma studied him through her lashes, still wondering where they stood as silence feel between them once more. "Are—are we…okay?" she asked hesitantly after a moment.
Killian smiled sadly and met her gaze with his own. "Of course, love," he replied quietly before gesturing to the balcony door, "Shall we?"
She smiled slightly and nodded as she followed him back inside, feeling heavier despite the fact that she'd mended things with Killian.
Later as sleep alluded her, as thoughts of 'what ifs' and 'could bes' swirled around in her mind, Emma wondered if Killian had been right about her lying to herself. She wondered whether she really believed her reasoning, wondered if maybe her fear of getting hurt, of losing a friend had somehow forced her mind to concoct an excuse to keep things as they were.
So much for choosing the less distracting option.