Chapter Three
It takes Emma far too long to get ready for her date. She's never been too bothered about her appearance, but tonight she spends hours in front of the mirror trying to make herself look perfect. She's already applied winged eyeliner, but she's not sure about the lipstick. Red lipstick might make her lips far more kissable, but it isn't really practical to wear for a meal. Especially since Emma is planning to order the ribs and she's already starving.
For food, or for Killian? She does not know.
She curls her hair. It's her favourite way to wear it, but it always takes too damn long. But the hours spent in front of the mirror tonight are totally worth it, as long as she receives that jaw-dropping expression she longs to see.
She decides on a backless dress. The idea is to seduce, and she's certainly on the right track. It's red, skin tight, and doesn't leave much to the imagination. She matches it with red heels, and decides to go with the lipstick.
What the hell, she thinks. She applies it generously.
"Mom, wow," Henry says, watching her as she emerges out of the bathroom, heels clicking against the wooden flooring. "You look amazing."
"Thanks." She swipes her purse from where she'd left it on the sofa. "When's Regina coming?"
"She should be here any minute."
Sure enough, the doorbell rings. Henry rushes to get it returns to the living room with Regina at his heels. She looks exhausted; eyes red-rimmed and face colourless. There's a dusting of flour on her black skirt. She must have been working all day at the pie shop.
She does a double take when she sees Emma.
"You clean up nice. Killian won't be able to keep his eyes off you," she says. "Hopefully he'll stop drooling long enough to eat something."
"Thanks." She rolls her eyes, but she struggles to keep the smile off her face. Compliments from Regina are few and far between, as rare as diamonds. She needs to take when she can get them. She turns to Henry. "Go get your stuff, kid."
"Sure, mom!"
He runs off up the stairs.
Regina crosses the room in a matter of strides and lowers her voice. "I take it you don't want me to bring Henry back… tonight?"
She does her best not to blush. "Probably for the best."
"Be careful, Emma." Her lips curl into a slow, cat-like smile. "The media would have a field day if a baby Swan came on the scene."
Emma gave her a look. "I'm not gonna get pregnant, Regina."
"I know. I'm saying just… be careful."
"I'm not some teenager."
"I know. But still."
Emma shakes her head with another eyeroll, but drops it. Regina means well. It's best to take her advice with a pinch of salt and a smile, and let her get on with it.
Henry comes back into the room, a rucksack slung over his shoulders. He encases Emma in a long, almost bone-crushing hug before he leaves, and tells her to have a great time. She gives a final wave of farewell as he exits the house with Regina.
They close the door behind them and then it's just her. Alone. In the house. Waiting for Killian.
Her heart jolts inside her chest. She places a hand over it, hoping to calm herself, but it doesn't work. She tries to busy herself by checking her purse and then checking again. She re-curls a few strands of hair, reapplies her lipstick and spritzes herself with perfume.
Finally, after what seems like hours, the doorbell rings. Her heart gives another one of those uncomfortable jolts. She jumps up from the sofa, grabs her purse, and leaps across the room. She grabs her shawl from the peg in the hallway. Before she knows it, before she can stop herself - or allow herself to chicken out - she's pulling the door open and there, in front of her, stands Killian Jones.
Her jaw drops. He looks gorgeous. Well, he always looks gorgeous, but this night is certainly no exception. He wears a purple shirt unbuttoned down to reveal the length of his neck and his collarbone. Her eyes linger too long on the skin, pale beneath the porch lights and rapidly darkening sky.
"You look-" she begins.
"I know. And you look-"
"I know."
They smirk at each other. And then Killian extends a hand which she takes, swallowing down her fear and her neves.
Killian
Killian takes them to a restaurant where he's sure they won't be spotted. It's a quaint little place, with red bricks and fairy lights all the way around the outside. It isn't flashy or too expensive, which he hopes Emma will appreciate. When it comes to money and fame, she's a simple woman. She doesn't do well with grand, flashy gestures. Graham should have learned that— he saw where he took her on her date.
But that's neither here nor there. He and Graham have buried the hatchet, so to speak. Killian no longer thinks about gouging out his eyes, or accidentally slicing off his hand when they're rehearsing with swords, but instead, offers him polite smiles whenever he sees him.
Emma appreciates that too, he's sure.
To his relief, Emma mentions that she adores the restaurant. Not because it's flashy - again, he's not that type of man and Emma isn't that type of woman - but because it has a warm feeling. It reminds him of home, of that quaint little English town he and his brother grew up in. It reminds him of his mother.
All of this he keeps to himself, of course.
After being led to a table by a young waiter, he takes Emma's shawl. She didn't bother with a coat, knowing it's too hot for one even at this time of night, but instead went with a red shawl that matches the beautiful design she's wearing tonight.
And truly, it is a sight to behold. The front of it closely follows the curve of her waist and hips. Strappy sleeves give him view of her sculpted arms. Then she turns and he sees that it is, indeed, backless. That's when his knees go weak.
He struggles for something to say for the next fifteen minutes.
If he had gone with what his heart wanted, he probably could have dragged her back into her house, locked the door behind them and stuffed the bloody restaurant.
Alas, he is a gentleman. And he wants this date with Emma more than she can know.
They order a bottle of red for the table, and the service is fast enough. He pours them both glasses and takes a slow, long sip. He needs all the courage for tonight.
Because tonight is the night he's going to tell her he loves her.
"What are you thinking about?" Emma asks as she browses the menu.
You, he almost says, but then he realises she's referring to the food, and he hasn't even opened the menu yet. He was too busy watching her, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she sucks on her ruby red lip. Gods, he wants to kiss her.
Stop it, he scolds himself. He needs to be on his best behaviour tonight. He is nothing but patient with Emma, and he knows that if all goes well he will get to kiss her endlessly tonight. Amongst other things.
"I might have pasta," he says, as he opens his menu.
"You're an Italian man, huh?"
"I've always had a weak spot for Italian. I love pizza but you Americans don't quite do it like the Italians do. It's poor in comparison."
"Hey!" She glances up at him and he's stunned by her beauty. She's smiling, her cheeks dimpling. "I resent that."
"I'm merely being honest. Isn't honesty the best policy in a relationship?"
"Unless we're talking about pizza."
He goes for a mushroom pasta that sounds exquisite and she goes for the ribs. They bring her a little bowl of lemon water and napkins prior to the meal, and Killian tops up their wine glasses.
"You look stunning tonight, Swan." The wine is already loosening his tongue. Perhaps he should go slower, but he can already feel that comfortable buzz humming through his veins. And Emma doesn't seem to be slowing down either. Tonight, they're going to enjoy themselves.
"I try. Sometimes."
"You're beautiful all the time."
"Even at four A.M. after two hours sleep and no-make up?"
"Even then."
That makes her laugh. And soon they're laughing and joking together, all the way through the first course. Killian hardly has time to eat; he's too busy chuckling and listening to her. That is, until something serious is brought up.
"What changes do you think Isaac will make?"
"I have no idea." He can feel his own face darken. He watches as she dips the end of a chip in barbecue sauce. "Though, it doesn't sound good."
"Grumpy mentioned something about jobs being cut."
"I know."
"Do you think my job's safe? I mean, I've only been on a year."
"Definitely." He swallows a piece of pasta, nodding. "You're a fan favourite. You have nothing to worry about, love. They adore you. More importantly, they adore you and I, so my job is safe too."
She snorts. "That's a bit presumptuous."
"I happen to be a fan favourite too. Belle would be insane to get rid of me. Or you. But mostly me," he adds with a teasing smile. She indulges him with a smile of her own.
Then a frown takes over her face. "I don't think it would be Belle making the decision. I'm guessing that Belle has little say on the new changes. That Isaac - whoever he is - wants to take over."
"He doesn't like me."
"You don't think?"
Killian nods. He'd sensed it when he was late. Granted, he shouldn't have been late but it wasn't his fault. He had a costume emergency.
He's always had a good eye or those who don't like him, something he's learned from being an actor. It helps him whittle out the false friends and fake smiles, those who want to use his name to get into a VIP club. He could tell from the moment he laid eyes on Isaac. He could feel the waves of dislike rolling off him.
"It happens sometimes," he tells Emma. "The thing is, with being in the public eye, people have their own views of us. Some people think I'm God's gift to Earth. You know about my Tumblr blog, don't you?" He'd shown her his Tumblr blog sometime last year and he remembers her being shocked by it. "Well, I see a lot of posts on there about the actors, including me. Comments on my hair, on my face, cropped photos of my eyes. Some people are ready to defend me no matter what. They claim I'm the nicest man on earth, and those who have met me back it up."
"Seriously? I've heard you should avoid the online world."
"Me too." He chuckles. "Seriously, some people think I can do no wrong. Others, however… Others hate me, even though they've never met me. They make posts about how I don't know how to answer questions at conventions, or that I answer too much and don't let anyone else speak. Some people say I'm arrogant-"
"They've got that right, then."
"-Others say I've a string of lovers. I suppose they don't know. For all they know, I could." She looks up at him sharply and he gives her a smile. "But of course, that's not true. If they knew me they'd know I'm-" Falling- "I'm-" Have fallen- "I'm-" In love with- "Hopelessly devoted to you."
She tilts her head. "Isn't that a Grease song?"
"What can I say? I have a deep passion for musicals."
"I would never have guessed."
"Remind me to dig out my Cats merchandise when you're next around my house."
She laughs. "Noted."
They order dessert. Killian decides on a sticky toffee pudding and Emma goes for a lemon cheese cake. They're in the middle of feeding each other off each other's spoons when they hear a cough next to them. Mouth full of lemon-y goodness, Killian turns to see a young girl, no older than sixteen, holding a piece of paper in her shaking hands.
A fan. On their date.
"Y-you're Killian Jones," the girl says, trembling.
Killian swallows his mouthful of cheesecake.
"Aye, that I am. And who am I speaking to?"
"Hannah," she says in her tremble-y voice. She turns to Emma, fixing her with a wide eyed stare. "A-and you're Emma Swan."
She nods, but doesn't say anything. Both women are paralysed, staring at each other. Killian can't help the flicker of annoyance he feels at this girl's appearance. He should be enjoying a quiet dinner with Emma, not entertaining the public. Couldn't she see they were busy?
But if he were in her shoes and it was Angelina Jolie…
He gives her his best charming grin. "Hannah, come closer. I take it you want an autograph?"
She nods and thrusts her tremble-y paper towards Killian. He takes it and flattens it out on the table. That's when he realises it's a bit of napkin from the restaurant, and his heart softens. She's still watching him with those big, frightened eyes. She looks like she's going to burst into tears any moment.
"This won't do!" He holds up the flimsy napkin and it flops. "Excuse me," he calls to a passing waitress. "Do you have a piece of paper I could have? Your napkins are quality standard, but not so wonderful for autographs."
She disappears to get him a piece of paper.
"I love you on Kings and Queens," Hannah breathes to both of them. "You're my favourite characters. I squealed when you kissed for the first time." She gasps and covers her mouth when she realises her words.
"So did I," Killian says, giving her a wink. The girl blushes.
The waitress returns with a piece of paper.
"Do you have a pen, love?" he asks the girl.
She nods and hands a shaky pen over. He sighs, To Hannah. A pleasure to meet you. Enjoy your meal, love.
Emma signs too. She softens too when the girl turns her attention to her. In theory, they should be annoyed, but she's so sweet with her big eyes and shaking hands.
"You're even more beautiful in real life," she gushes to Emma who blushes, and signs the piece of paper.
"Don't I know it," Killian murmurs to himself.
With a thank you, and a shaky wave, the girl turns and disappears back to her own table. She's with her mother in the corner. They both watch them. Killian gives them a wave before he turns back to Emma. She breathes out a sigh he didn't realise she was holding.
"Still haven't got used to the fans," she whispers. "It still shocks me."
"They're harmless enough. Some are… strange, but most are fine. Like Hannah. She was sweet."
"I can't fault her," Emma says. "I would have done the same with Robert Downey Jr."
He scoffs. "I didn't think he was your type."
"Jealous, Killian?" She smirks, actually smirks at him, and he shakes his head, smiling.
"Perhaps I am." He pauses to take a sip of his wine. "But everything will be fine."
"And why is that?"
"He'll be past it in a couple of years anyway and you'll come crawling back to me."
Emma laughs and takes a sip of her own wine, staining the rim of her glass with red. "Do you really think I'm that shallow? If looks were a factor in relationships, you wouldn't have stood a chance. Tall, dark and handsome? Not my type."
He smirks. "Is that what this is? A relationship?" He tries to keep his voice neutral- he hopes it doesn't tremble or falter.
"What else is it?"
"Well I have met David and Mary Margaret and I'm sure that counts as meeting the parents, judging by how protective David is over you." Then he drops his joking tone, mouth dry as he realises that now is the time. It's now or never. "Actually, Emma-" I love you. "The thing is, I-"
"Listen, Killian, there's something I want to tell you."
He frowns, losing his train of thought.
Losing his courage.
He looks up at her. She's not looking at him. Her glassy, wide eyes are fixed on her lipstick- stained glass in front of her and if Killian isn't mistaken, he's sure he can see her cheeks tinge pink. That's when Killian realises she's going to tell him the same thing.
Don't be stupid, Killian, he scolds himself. How could you possibly know that?
Intuition, maybe? For one insane moment he's willing to bet his three cars, seven bathrooms and pool on it. He leans back in his chair, trying to relax his shoulders, trying to keep his breathing easy. He quirks an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"It's just that I-" Her eyes flicker up to his.
And he knows. His mouth twitches into a smile. "That you…"
And then just like that her face changes and she shakes her head. "That I want to thank you for a lovely meal." His face falls and she rushes on to say, "It was great. Seriously it was. Thank you for our date." She reaches across the table for his hand and he lets her take it. She squeezes it.
He musters his best smile, trying not to let his disappointment show. "Aye, love. I had a lovely time too."
After all, he has all the time in the world to tell her he loves her.
They finish their desserts and Killian asks for the cheque. It comes on a little tray with two white round mints, and they pop them in their mouths. Emma offers - as he knew she would - to pay at least half, but he retorts with a quick comeback that confirms she has offended him and his entire family.
"Pretty sure you only have a brother." She's quick.
He pays the cheque and they call a cab to get home.
Killian grabs Emma's shawl from where it had been folded over her chair. He steps behind her and drapes it over her shoulders, brushing his nose against her hair as he does so. She smells divine. He presses a kiss to her ear and she giggles, stepping out of his arms.
She takes his hand as they walk out of the restaurant. It sends a warm feeling all throughout his body and he can't stop smiling. For once, he feels content. Happier than he has in so long.
He nods his thanks to the waitress as they pass through the door. She grins in response - clearly she's happy with the tip he gave her. They step out into the night air. It's still warm, even though it's nearing eleven, but a light breeze lifts their hair.
Killian rubs Emma's shoulder. "Can you see the-" He catches Emma's expression. "What's wrong?" She stares straight ahead, lips thin, eyes cold. He follows her gaze to where a group of people, some holding cameras, others holding microphones, reside.
"How did they know we were here?" she hisses.
"Relax." He rubs her shoulder again. "It's just the media. Ignore them. Don't even look at them. Don't answer any of their questions."
She nods, though her expression is still stony. It's then that Killian realises she probably hasn't brushed shoulders with the media too often. Last year she was just getting known; she was less likely to be recognised. This year, however…
"Do you want my hand?" he whispers.
She shakes her head. He feels a pang go through him, but he tries not to take it too personally. Emma has made it very clear how she feels about public displays of affections, especially in the eye of the media. That's why she never allows him to kiss her properly on set.
She begins to walk, her shoes clicking against the concrete. Killian follows as she walks down the steps. He keeps his head down, but he can see them out the corner of his eyes, the way their faces snap towards him, the way they snap to Emma. The hunger in their eyes makes him feel almost sorry for them. He can think of a million other things to do on a summer night rather than spend time, crouched in the bushes, waiting for people to emerge from their meal so they can ambush them.
"Killian," a man calls. "Killian Jones!"
"Emma Swan!" another man calls. "You look beautiful."
Killian sees her tense in front of him, but she doesn't stop walking. He can feel flashes around them. They'll be front page news tomorrow.
"Guys, you look great," a woman calls. Killian can only see a blur of dark hair and glasses. "Is is true you guys are dating?
"Killian, are you taking Emma out on a date?"
"What can you tell us about the new season?"
"I don't know, mates," Killian says, shaking his head. He manages a smile but struggles to keep his voice polite. "It's top secret."
"Are you happy to be a series regular, Emma?"
Her shoulders tense even more at the mention of her name, but she keeps moving, head down, one foot in front of the other. He resists the urge to place a hand on the small of her back, knowing his touch would will calm her, but at the same time, making the paparazzi go wild. It's best to keep a low profile.
"Is it true you have a new head writer?"
"Are you dating?"
"What about the new season?"
The questions come faster and Killian hardly has time to process one before another one comes hurling at him. He doesn't plan to answer them - apart from with vague non-answers, anyway - but the jumble of words make his head spin. He tries to keep his head down.
"Did you enjoy your date?"
"Do you think you'll battle any dragons this season?"
"Are you dating?"
Killian opens the cab door. He lets Emma get in first, and watches her slide across the seat into the darkness. She visibly relaxes once she's submerged within the leather seats and tinted windows.
"Sidney Glass, here. Is there really nothing you can tell The Mirror about the new season?" says a black man with a deep voice, and curly coal hair.
Killian looks right at him and gives him the biggest grin he can. "It's going to be amazing," he says, before he too disappears into the car, slamming the door behind him.
Emma spends most of the cab ride tense, unmoving, rigid as a stone. Killian takes her hand, rubbing his thumb along her fingers and she seems to untense after that.
They remain holding hands as they make their way up the steps to her house. She rummages in her purse for her keys. It's only when she shoves the key into the lock that Killian realises she's shaking.
"Hey," he says, softly. She doesn't listen. She just pushes open the door open and drags herself inside.
He closes the door behind him, watching her as she kicks her heels off and shoves them to the side of the hallway. She uses the same hurried movements as she removes her shawl and throws it into the living room, onto the sofa.
"Hey," he says again. He crosses the room and takes her shoulders, hoping to help somehow. She struggles, trying to get out of his grasp, but he just holds on tighter. "Hey. Emma. Love. Look at me."
She struggles for a second more before giving up and reluctantly meeting his eyes. Hers are frantic, darting around the room. He places his hands on either side of her face to bring her focus back to him. She does and relaxes in his arms.
"Is that the first time that's happened?"
She nods.
"I'm surprised. You honestly haven't been mauled by the paparazzi before?"
"No."
He strokes her cheek. "It's okay. It's normal. They're just trying to get as much information out of us as possible. That's why they ask so many questions."
She nods. Killain is sure if she was feeling like herself, she'd roll her eyes, nudge him and tell him of course she knows that, everyone knows that. The fact that she doesn't worries him a little. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, feeling her soft hair brush against his lips.
"Are you alright now?"
"I'm fine, Killian."
He goes to drop his hands, but she grabs one with both her own. She's no longer shaking; her grip is soft but steady. She turns his hand around and presses a kiss to his palm before releasing him.
"I'm fine," she repeats. "It just freaked me out, that's all."
"It won't be the last time it happens."
"I know."
They look at each other for a moment. And then, "Do you know what you need?"
Emma gives him a look, sending a wave of relief over him. "What do I need?"
"A bloody good drink."
He disappears into the kitchen, smiling when he feels her follow him. He heads straight to the cupboard and pulls out two wine glasses, setting them on the kitchen counter.
"So what have you got?" He opens the cupboard.
"Wine."
"No rum?" He gives her a wounded expression.
"No one here drinks it."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing. It just means I'll have to stay here more often, doesn't it?"
He catches her incredulous expression when he throws her a look over his shoulder. He pours wine into the two glasses, a white one he found in the fridge. It's not his favourite, but some alcohol is better than no alcohol in his opinion. He hands her a glass which she accepts, taking a generous sip.
She seems much more relaxed now. She watches him over the rim of her glass, eyes sparkling, hair glimmering in the spotlights. Her hair looks beautiful tonight. She's curled it, and he can see all the different tones of gold shimmering under the light. When he looks back into her face, he can see she's smirking.
"What?" he asks.
"I'm sorry."
He sets his own glass on the side and leans against the kitchen counter, folding his arms, quirking an eyebrow. "For what?"
"I had intended to… seduce you." She runs her finger along the rim of her glass, still smirking at him. "I guess I just got scared. Not an attractive image. I suppose we'll have to cuddle up on the sofa and watch a movie or something."
He quirks the other eyebrow. "The night is still young."
"I guess."
"And you know you don't need to seduce me. Just say the word. However, if that gorgeous backless dress was an attempt, I'm certainly not complaining."
She takes another slow sip of wine and crosses the room. She places her glass on the kitchen counter, just shy of his own, and peers up at him through her eyelashes. It's definitely a seduction attempt, and he doesn't mind one bit.
"Henry's…"
"With Regina," she confirms.
He nods. He's glad. There was that one occasion when he walked in on the two of them… well, Killian can't remember exactly what they were doing, but he knows it isn't a sight for a teenage boy to see. Not the teenage boy of the woman in question, that is.
Emma trails a finger down his chest. He swallows, not as discreetly as he would have liked. She smiles innocently up at him, and it makes his knees go weak.
Bloody hell.
He places his hands on her waist and pulls her closer so she's flush against him, leaning down to press his lips to hers. But before he can get there, his path is blocked by her finger.
"Maybe we shouldn't…" she says, though he knows at once she's teasing him. "We do have work tomorrow."
"Do we? I'd forgotten about that." He kisses her cheek. "Do we really have to go in?" He presses another kiss to her cheek.
She laughs. "You shouldn't be late again."
"I'm never late." His kisses move down her cheek to her jaw. He slows them down, kissing slow and soft up her jaw. He nudges her ear with his nose. She trembles and he knows he's got her. "I'm a professional," he whispers into her ear.
"Are you?" she manages to get out. If that's the best comeback she can think of, he's definitely got her. His kisses dip down her neck, where the skin is softer. One of his hands trails up her back and she trembles again
"You're already on Isaac's bad side." Her voice is breathless.
"Darling, please, don't think about Isaac while I'm kissing you."
"I'll just think of Robert Downey Jr instead."
He chuckles into her neck, shaking his head. She's impossible, but that's why he loves her. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone and her head falls back. It's then that he realises she's pressed against the kitchen counter, but he has no recollection of how they got there.
"Oh, Robert."
"You're not funny." Though he's chuckling. He looks back up at her, face inches away from hers. Their noses brush.
"You're just gonna have to make me forget all about Robert Downey Jr."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Maybe." She raises her eyebrows.
He only sees one last smirk before he kisses her, one hand in her hair, pushing her against the counter. And with that, he manages to find the zip of her dress, just below her back. Yes, he'll make her forget entirely about Robert Downey Jr.
Thanks for reading! I've just realised I have eight chapters of this already written and I completely forgot. So expect another chapter really soon! What did you think?