The rain continued to pour down, but Emma insisted on staying up for another hour, just to see if things would calm down enough for her to go home. Killian was a bit more reasonable than she was, and insisted that she get some sleep."You can take my bed." He said, placing his hand gently on the small of her back and leading her to his tiny bedroom. Emma shook her head. "Thanks, but I don't mind sleeping on the couch." She took a step away from him, ready to go back to the living room. She barely knew this man. He could be an axe murderer for all she knew. She most definitely was not going to sleep in his bed.

"I'm asking you to sleep in my bed." He said again, his accent thickening a bit. Emma's eyes widened. "You don't mean-"

Killian frowned and looked up at the ceiling. He took in a deep breath and released it slowly. "Emma, Miss Swan, I may not have had the best upbringing, but I am gentleman enough to let a woman take my bed. I'm not insinuating that we sleep together, I just met you for heavens sakes." He shook his head and looked at her somewhat disgusted.

"You will sleep on the bed." He pointed. "And I will sleep on the couch. Separately. Am I understood?" His look told her that there was absolutely no further discussion on the matter. She was too surprised to say anything, so she just nodded. Killian was confusing. He was gentlemanly and quiet but at the same time he seemed cocky and self assured. The Mr. Darcy of the police force she supposed. Too tired to argue any farther, Emma gave in and let Killian lead her to his room.

Killian went over to his dresser and pulled out a white t-shirt and held it out to Emma. "You can wear this to bed." He said. "Wouldn't want your rain soaked clothes soaking my bed." He winked as she took the shirt from his hands. "Thank you." She replied, gripping the clothes tightly.

He turned from her and opened his closet, sifting through haphazard piles of papers and clothes before finally finding what he had been looking for. "Found it!" He said, as he triumphantly held out a throw blanket. He had stepped closer, and they were almost touching. An awkward silence filled the air and neither Emma nor Killian moved for a span of fifteen seconds. Emma swallowed hard. "Goodnight Killian." She managed to stammer out, her voice almost a whisper.

He seemed to notice their closeness, and he stumbled backward. His cheeks grew rosy as he glanced down at her. "G 'Night Emma." He was out of the room as quick and possible and closed the door behind him. Emma waited a few seconds to make sure he was really gone before peeling her clothes off. They were still damp from the rain, and she was happy to slip on Killian's crisp white shirt. The fabric was soft, and felt good against her smooth skin. She tentatively threw back the covers of his bed and slid between the sheets. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, leaving her to feel a dizzying heaviness. The day had been long, for both her mind and her body. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Her eyelids felt like weights had been attached to them, and she gave into them, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Morning came with the sound of New York traffic, and the smell of brewing coffee. Emma opened her eyes and stretched, sitting up in bed and glancing to her right where she was startled to see a foot high stack of books. Killian's nightstand and dresser both were piled with books, and another stack sat on the floor next to his bed. The man was obviously a reader. She picked up one and read the cover. War and Peace another read To Kill a Mockingbird. He obviously read a wide variety, from classics to contemporary. She picked another book and ran her hands across the bindings. The book was pale green and had no title. Opening it carefully, she read the first page.

Lush and green as a spring

With rain and misty skies

I long for the land where the days are long

Where the sun in the pastures lies

The people are kind and the air is clean

Oh, how the sun does shine

None in a rush and not a soul mean

Oh, in this land of mine

The book was one of poetry. Very well written poetry at that. She was about to read the next page, when the door creaked open. Killian stood there, looking rather awake, considering the hour. He looked at the book in her hands and frowned. "What are you doing, snooping through my things?"

He walked over and snatched the book from her hands like a whip. "I'm sorry." Emma began. She wasn't sure how to excuse what she had done. She hadn't meant to snoop. Her love of literature had apparently clouded her judgement.

"I was just-"

Killian held up his hand. "There's coffee and breakfast in the kitchen. Join me at your leisure." He turned on his heel and left the room without another word. This man was certainly an enigma.

~()~

The tiny kitchen was filled with sunlight and smelled wonderful. Bacon sizzled in a pan and Killian flipped it onto a plate and handed it to Emma, along with a steaming mug of coffee. "Wasn't sure how you took your eggs." He said as he slid one onto her plate. "Hope this'll do."

She smiled at him and took her coffee into her hands. "They're great, thank you." Surprisingly, there was no awkwardness between the two of them.

Killian sat across from her, sipping his coffee with a sly grin spread across his lips.

"What?" Emma asked, unable to keep from smiling herself. Killian reached over and plucked a piece of bacon off her plate. He chewed it thoughtfully and stared at her. Finally he spoke.

"Emma Swan, would you like to go to the beach with me?"