One Day at a Time

by CuteMcBeauty

CS AU. Miss Swan's a single mom who holds two shifts since her son's father left them. Mr. Jones is an unemployed widower and father who finds it hard to hold a job because of a handicap. Both broken families trying to run from painful pasts. Maybe they can work through it together... one day at a time. (Rated T for now, will eventually change to M )

9. So thrives my soul

HELLO ALL! SORRY FOR THE DELAY, THIS WEEK I WAS FLOODED WITH WORK AND WITH MY MACBOOK SCREEN BUSTED AT HOME, IT'S HARD TO WRITE. BUT MY BOSS IS OUT ALL DAY TODAY SO I GOT A CHANCE TO FINISH THIS! I'LL TRY TO GET THE UPDATES DONE SOONER! CRAZY!TINK COMING TO TOWN, THE SHIT BEGINS TO HIT THE FAN. ANGSTY STORIES MAKES FLUFFY MOMENTS MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE, DON'T YOU AGREE? AND AS FOR KILLIAN'S ARTWORK, I AM GREATLY INSPIRED ON THE WORK OF AN AMAAAAZING ARTIST CALLED JOSEPHINE WALL, AN ABSOLUTE FAVORITE OF MINE; I RECOMMEND YOU ALL TO GOOGLE HER SO YOU CAN GET AN IDEA OF HOW I PICTURE KILLIAN'S PAINTINGS IN THIS STORY! I HOPE MY DEPICTIONS ARE ENOUGH OF A TRIBUTE TO HER BECAUSE, HOLY CRAP SHE'S GOOD!

AS ALWAYS, A MILLION THANKS TO ALL WHO HAVE FOLLOWED, FAV'D AND 'RE ALL LOVED! =) REMEMBER, EVERY TIME YOU DON'T REVIEW, GOD KILLS A KITTEN. (NOT REALLY, THAT WOULD BE KIND OF TERRIBLE, BUT STILL… HEH HEH HEH).

"Un-friggin-believable…" Emma shook her head before her computer.

The image before her made her imagination dance and swirl; it depicted a unicorn, prancing in the air, and all sorts of images seemed to stem from the hair that flowed from its neck. The animal seemed to float in the middle of a blue and white cosmos.

"And you haven't seen the end of it!" Henry shook his head. "The guy's a genius, mom, look…" He clicked on another image and Emma had to sit down before her knees went weak. This one was the painting of two tree barks, tangled together… and they formed the images of a man and a woman, embraced in a kiss.

"Jesus, this is amazing…" She shook her head.

"Mom, your new boyfriend is the world's answer to Salvador Dali."

Emma chuckled. "He's not my boyfriend, and how the hell do you know who Salvador Dali is, anyway?"

Henry shrugged. "Killian. He gave us all some assignments and Paige had to work on surrealism. Turns out that together with Remedios Varo and Leonora Carrington, Salvador Dali was a cornerstone in metaphysical and psychological art, also known as surrealism."

Emma frowned and then smiled. "Look at you, getting all smart and stuff…"

"I was always smart."

"Never doubted it for a second." She looked back at the screen of her desktop computer. "What even is this? This is… exquisite work."

"Hang on…" Henry clicked into another link. "Here, check this out: Killian James Jones, born in Westminster, London, January 26, 1980, one of Europe's most promising young artists, Jones has taken surrealism to a whole new level by adding nautical, romantic, natural and fantastic elements to his creations, such as elves, fairies and medieval motif. The element of femininity is dominant in Jones's work, an underlying sublimation of his love and respect for the archetype of 'the earthly and heavenly nurturing goddess of nature', mother earth. Educated at the London Royal College of Art, specialized in visual arts, his gallery known as K.J. Jones and Associate resided in the Soho District of London, housing a collection of over 280 paintings, illustrations and clay sculptures by the artist. The highest selling painting in his collection is called "The Forbidden Dream of a Princess", depicting a languid young woman on a Gondola, dreaming of her soul embracing a handsome young man and embarking on various adventures. "The forbidden dream of a Princess" sold for 21,000 Pound Sterling to a private collector. Unfortunately, The K.J. Jones and Associate Gallery was sold in its entirety by auction, on February 24th, 2010, after Jones declared to the press, collectors and patrons that he was retiring, age thirty." Henry huffed. "I'm telling you, mom, this guy's the jackpot, but he's seriously screwed up. I mean, he made a fortune out of one single painting and I suppose he did sell a few at that range, but then sold it all at an auction for peanuts? How much to you suppose he scrounged for all this amazing stuff?"

"Enough to get him the hell out of dodge, I suppose… Here… go down here…" Emma frowned, pointing at a link labelled as Biography.

Henry gave her a dubious look. "Are you sure you wanna go there? Sometimes it's better not to know…"

"I already know most of it. He's the one that told me to google him, now go!"

"Ok." Henry clicked and a picture of a younger but definitely happier-looking Killian emerged, arms crossed, both hands visible, standing with a proud grin before two unfinished canvasses.

The man had been born gorgeous, it seemed, but despite the age difference, he looked unburdened, relaxed… light-spirited.

He looked happy.

Henry read aloud.

"Like most other young artists, Killian J. Jones started in life as a talented and restless child. Growing up in a well-off neighborhood, Killian and his older brother, Liam, attended a prestigious middle school and later, Killian was accepted into the Royal College of Art. Just before the end of his third term, Aged 21, Killian's magnificent and creative artwork was discovered by renowned art promoter and connoisseur, Jonathon Cohen, who promoted his paintings and helped the talented young artist to set up his first gallery; his exhibit was a success, selling twenty-four free-themed paintings and ten commissions and grossing over one hundred and fifty thousand pound sterling within the first six months since opening. Since his debut, Killian J. Jones has become a cult figure for many fans of fantasy and surrealism.

Killian was married in 2003 to Milah McMillan, former wife of known Scottish socialite, John H. Gold, and the couple bore two children, Megan Denisse and James Patrick. Sadly, the little boy died in a tragic boating accident and his mother followed shortly, committing suicide three months after the death of the infant boy. Soon after, Jones and his surviving daughter moved to America; he has officially retired from the world of art, but has passed down to the world a precious archive of priceless creations that are boundless in spirit, creativity, uniqueness and beauty, that are bound to set off the imagination of many generations to come." Henry turned to look at his mother. "Wow… And I thought we had it bad."

"Jesus, poor Killian. And Megan. To lose her mother at such an early age…" Emma sighed, her face saddened. "Look, there's pictures there…" Henry clicked and they went through each and every one of the paintings uploaded in his official website. The photographs also showed some of his personal life: An expensive looking family portrait was the first.

The woman was beautiful.

"Gosh, poor woman. She couldn't cope with it." Henry shook his head. He gulped and looked at his mom. "What do you suppose that did to him, mom?"

Emma licked her lips, trying to swallow tears; he had had a beautiful picture-perfect family. And even though she had no complaints regarding her current status with the guy, she truly wished he hadn't had to endure the tragic feeling of loss he had lived with for the past five years.

"See here…" She pointed at a photograph in the corner. "Open that one, Henry."

Henry clicked on the picture. It depicted a smiling Killian, covered and smeared in paint, holding his daughter with one arm; the little girl had a paintbrush in her hand and it was plain to see she had somewhat recreated his father's façade. Behind them, on a mirror and taking the photograph, a pregnant Milah, only her smile visible at the edge of the image. Henry grinned. "That's Megan, mom!"

"Yeah…" She grinned sadly and then pointed at another image. "What about this one?"

After clicking, Killian was seen talking to a girl, maybe aged seventeen, her hair all tied up in a tight bun atop her head. He seemed to be teaching her something, instructing her, his hand on hers as he guided her pulse on the canvass. The girl was pretty, and seemed sternly focused on her work and his instructions. "Who's that?" Emma sneered.

Henry read. "Killian Jones seen here with his protégé and apprentice, Tanya Bell, another promising young artist from Australia."

Emma shook her head. "He was like the Axl Rose of the art world… Geez."

"He's such a nice guy, mom. He's kind of silly and goofy these days, though… That's kind of cool, although, why would he just up and leave all this to come to… Storybrooke, Maine?"

"Kid, the guy lost half his family in the space of three months. He needed time and space." She grinned. "That's pretty abundant in this town…"

"He's an awesome teacher." Henry shrugged. "He's so keen when he's with us, you should see him. Maybe after he sketched you, he'll feel ready to paint again."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Yeah. Maybe you are like… his new muse."

Emma gulped; for all her fears regarding men and the walls that she had expertly clamped her heart in when it came to potential suitors, the notion of being someone's "muse" seemed to touch a fiber in her that she didn't think still existed. Not to mention that the idea that she might help this broken young soul heal made her feel like she had a hand in changing someone's life for the better… maybe even her own as well.

"And you're sure you don't mind that… well, that we…?" She winced doubtfully at her son.

Henry sighed and thought for a few seconds while Emma stared expectantly at his face, looking for any sign that might reveal her son's thoughts on the developments. Henry turned off the computer screen and turned, full faced, to Emma.

"You know, I really wanted to find something that might make me feel uncomfortable about this whole thing… but I can't." He shrugged. "It's weird; I should be totally up the walls about it, but Megan and I have discussed it and…"

"Wait." Emma held her hand out. "You and Megan… have discussed this?" she chuckled. "You guys have formed a committee about Killian and I?"

"Come on… It's not rocket science, mom." Henry shook his head. "I could go off saying that 'my dad this and my dad that' and guilt you into dropping the whole thing… But the truth is, my dad left and didn't even try to get in touch, not even with me. He must have his reasons. I don't care. The only thing I know is that we were not doing so well, you and I… until Killian and Liam came along." He grinned. "So as long as we all remain happy, well… I'm cool."

Emma chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "Just two weeks… who are you and what did you do to Henry Cassidy?"

"He kind of… grew up a bit and realized the whole world wasn't about him." He grinned.

Emma grinned back. "Thanks, kid. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for everything that happened. You know that if I could have avoided it I…"

"Yatta yatta yatta, come on, yeah, I know." He smiled. "So… have you figured out how you're gonna dress for your big date tonight?"

She chuckled. "You're on top of everything, aren't you?"

He winked at her. "Meg told me red is his favorite color…"

"Will you stop playing matchmaker?"

"Just… giving you a bit of leverage."

"Yeah, well, it's just dinner here and then a movie, not the Oscars." She chuckled as she stood up straight.

The phone rang and Emma ran to pick it up. "Hello?"

"She speaks! Oh speak again, bright angel…"

Emma laughed. "What man art thou that thus bescreened in night so stumblest on my council?"

Killian was wide-eyed. "Bloody hell, beautiful, and here I didn't you'd notice…" He chuckled.

"Romeo and Juliet, at the Capulets' Orchard; The famous balcony scene." She smirked arrogantly. "I was in drama club in high school; played Juliet twice. Probably the one year I didn't run the hell away from my foster home."

"I'm impressed, my lady Capulet."

"Lord Montague, I may be a waitress, but I'm not a hick."

"Certainly not. And as a properly cultured and refined lady that you are, I wondered if perhaps you'd be fine if we altered the circumstances surrounding our date this evening for something a tad more… artistic in nature..."

She frowned. "What do you have in mind?"

Killian stretched the phone cord as he went about the kitchen, receiver pressed between his shoulder and ear, apron clad and opening the oven. "Dinner here, at my apartment. And afterwards, perhaps, instead of attending to watch Casablanca, you might consider the idea of maybe… posing for me?" He sensed her hesitation. "Fully clothed. I don't pillage and plunder on the first few dates, just so you know…"

"And there's that pirate reference." She laughed. "So… what are you painting?"

"Ah! Tis for me to know and for you to find out in due course."

After what she had seen in the website, and seeing the amazing work he was capable of creating, it made Emma's heart soar to think he'd be once again doing a painting, especially one where she was involved.

This 'muse' thing really wasn't too bad at all!

She sighed. "Should I bring the ice cream?"

"Certainly. Can't work without it now. Same flavor, love."

"Tell her you'll provide the spoons!" Megan turned around and gave her father a thumbs-up before disappearing into her room to avoid the ensuing scold.

He merely laughed through his nose.

"Will erhm… Henry be joining us?" Killian gulped.

"Actually…" She smiled. "He has a date too, just don't tell him I told you…" When Killian laughed softly, Emma continued. "Mr. Jefferson agreed to cater him for the night. It's Paige's birthday and since they live way across town, he offered to take Henry for tonight and to drive him to school himself tomorrow morning."

"Same here. My daughter was invited also."

Emma grinned. "Guess we'll have to be on our best behavior, then. We're unchaperoned."

"Not that it ever mattered…."

"Come on! Really?"

"You may not be able to resist me, darling…" He chuckled as he increased the oven temperature.

Emma sighed. "You really do think you're all that, don't you, Jones? I've resisted other guys before..:"

"Well, that's because you haven't been out with me yet."

There was something in the way he said that last phrase that had Emma gulping; seemed Killian Jones and his charming posh London accent had a remote control on her hormones. She merely spoke through a grin. "We'll see about that."

"We shall." He nodded with a confident smile. "Till tonight, Swan. I'll pick you up at seven."

Emma smiled wickedly. "Good night, good night, as sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast."

Killian cleared his throat and was unable to control the flushing blood on his cheeks; the mere word "breast" coming from her lips, though a phone, in the fakest Shakespearean English he had ever heard resulted undeniably provocative.

They hung up and Killian held the tooting receiver to his neck, pressing down his chin against it and smiling with his eyes closed. "So thrives my soul…" He whispered. "Bloody Juliet."

"Will you look at yourself?"

"Liam, don't start…" Killian shook his head as he sheepishly placed the phone back on the wall stand.

"No, no, it's bloody marvelous, brother!" The older Jones smiled. "I leave tonight happy to see that you're finally getting your act back together."

Killian sighed and grinned. "I… can't thank you enough, Liam. For coming here and all that. I… know that you are a busy man with a full schedule and… well…" He shrugged.

Liam grinned with a soft chuckle; he stood up from his place in the living room and paced to the eager young artist, placing both hands on his shoulders. "I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, Killian. You're my brother and my family."

The younger Jones grinned and threw his arms around his brother, who also did the same. "Thanks mate… For everything."

Liam pulled away. "You be sure to finish that painting, Killian. No matter what, if you start it, you bloody well finish it."

Megan came bouncing out. "I'll make sure he does!"

Killian huffed and shook his head. "What has the world come to where babes patrol the lives of their fathers."

Liam crouched down to Megan. "You be a good little girl, alright, my love?"

"Yes, uncle Liam." Megan nodded, saddened. "I wish you could stay."

Liam smiled. "Oh but my dear, I'm but a flick of the phone away! You need me, ever, you just call me! Your father knows this as well." He hugged his niece. "You keep up doing those numbers in your head, perhaps there will be someone who's not a bloody beatnik in your lineage… For all you know you might turn out to be the world's answer to Stephen Hawking and not another sodding Picasso."

She giggled while Killian shook his head with a smile. "Piss off…"

They heard a car honking.

Liam sighed. "That will be my taxi cab, little brother…"

Killian rolled his eyes and he and Megan spoke in unison. "YOUNGER brother!"

That brought a healthy laugh from Liam who hugged his brother again. "Have a great date tonight Killian love, and be sure to stay on the straight and narrow, not just for Meg and your new sweetheart… but for yourself. You deserve happiness too, Killian." He nodded. "I'm proud of you, brother."

Killian nodded. "Thank you."

Having said this, Liam sighed and picked up his bag as he headed for the door. "So, make sure you at least visit Greta and I soon. We miss you."

"I'm sure she disagrees with you…" Killian shrugged, following his brother to the door. "especially after I vomited on her Persian rug back when."

"And you threw a Faberge egg into the piano, she hasn't forgotten… but, she has hopes that you'll one day reclaim your position and earn enough money to pay her back, so till then, she'll have her eyes on you."

Both brothers laughed. "Give her my love… go safely, Brother! Call me when you get home, all right?"

"I shall." Liam nodded. "And Killian, if you need anything, please… don't hesitate."

Killian gave a small nod and a sigh as his brother stepped down the stairs and out the main door.

Megan stared at him. "Are we… going to be ok?"

He frowned at her from the door. "Of course, my darling, why?"

She shrugged. "I just… I don't want you to start feeling lonely and…"

Killian walked to her and crouched before her. "You fear I may start drinking again…"

Her silence and the saddened glare were indication that he was right; his daughter was scared of the possibility that he might relapse.

He hugged her promptly. "I have an illness, my love; but I will do everything in my power not to let it get to that ever again." He pulled away and grinned. "If it makes you feel better, I'll join one of those triple A programs…"

"That's double A, daddy!" She laughed.

"Well, I'll make it triple! Just to show you my heart's in the right place." He mused the hair away from her face. "I never want to hurt you or anyone else again, Meg love. Ever."

She nodded and then just raised a single cheeky brow. "So… what will you be wearing to receive the dashing young date?"

He huffed. "And there we go, just when I thought I was speaking to a child…"

"I am a child. I'm just not stupid. I know how the world works. You know I'm ok with slumber parties for grown-ups…"

"Meg, really…" He stood up, blushing an insanely intense red.

"It's fine, daddy, pillow fights are fun! I totally get it! Now, if you don't mind, I will go pick my clothes for Paige's party. And you should wear the black leather vest with a paisley shirt. You look lovely in those! Just… don't wear the old leather pants. You look like a pirate in them."

Killian laughed aloud. "You're full of sass today, young lady, go on, get your affairs in order and I'll sort myself out, ok?"

She raised her shoulder and winked at him. "My daddy's got a girlfrieeeend…" She sang as she hopped away to her room.

She was so much like her mother… But oddly, the realization of that did not make Killian's soul ache. On the contrary, he felt his heart soar, thinking this little girl, this precious young woman, was a little piece of him and his late Milah. A grin rose on his lips, he looked up and whispered. "Thank you, my love, for the gift of her… I'll look after her. You and Pat have nothing to worry about. Sleep with the angels, Milah…"

And the sudden feel of unburdened joy flooded his entire being as he set about preparing the large canvass where he would plaster this new muse of his.

With any luck, she'd maybe stay for a pillow fight.

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Liam Jones boarded his bus and left Storybrooke unburdened enough to sleep the whole way through.

And just as the bus left, another bus pulled into the station.

A hopeful, bright eyed young woman aged roughly twenty-two or twenty-three, stepped out of the bus, holding an easel and a large purse. She smiled as she looked around her, smelling the trademark scent of fresh fish, motor oil and salt.

A fishing town with a harbor; the perfect place where she and her love could spend their lives, painting sunsets by the sea and drinking hot coffee during winter nights.

She made her way through the station, stopping at a desk, where a friendly-looking young man with a ludicrously funny face smiled at her. "Can I help you, love?"

"You can." She smiled back at him. "I'm new in town, I just moving in. Is there an inn or hotel I could lodge in while I find a job?"

The man grinned again. "Well, this is a very small town, miss…"

"Bell. Tanya Bell." She nodded.

"Miss Bell. We have only one inn, Granny's Bed and Breakfast. You can actually walk there, just down the road and turn left on Main." He pointed in the direction. "You'll get to a diner with neon signs, that's Granny's diner. Go indoors, ask for Ruby or Grandma Lucas, they'll be happy to help you out."

Tink nodded with a friendly smile. "Thank you so much…"

"Hey, out of curiosity…" The young man swallowed. "Where are you from? You have a bit of a strange accent."

She shrugged. "Oh, I'm an Aussie. I was born in Brisbane, lived in Queensland… Then moved to London, then Boston…" She shrugged. "Now I'm here."

"Well, hello, big traveler!" He smiled. "And suddenly… Storybrooke. Blimey. What brings you to a small town like this one?"

She sighed deep. "Art and love."

The man smiled fully again. "Ah! True love will get you to the ends of the earth, that's for sure, eh?" She shrugged. "Yeah."

"I had me a woman once. Anna, was her name, beautiful like the sun itself. Bloody hell, did I love her. I would have killed and died for her."

She stared coldly into his eyes. "True love… For sure." She nodded. "Anyway… down this road, take Main and… Granny's Diner, ask for Ruby or…?"

"Grandma Lucas."

"Great! Thank you… Mr…" She looked at his name tag. "William Scarlett." She laughed softly. "Lovely name!"

"Same to you Miss Bell, and welcome to Storybrooke!"

With a satisfied sigh, she made her way down to the diner and entered. The quaintness of a small town in Maine was something she was ill-prepared to experience. She missed the buzzing sounds of cars, airplanes and people rushing past, sounds that kept the noise in her head at bay. All she could hear now was quiet and a couple clanking sounds of cups and dishes. She huffed, shook her head and pondered on the meaning of "the ends of the earth" and "Kill or die".

This was perfect for Killian and herself. No patrons, no nosey older brothers, no deadlines… and no Milah. The baby boy was gone and soon, she would see to it that Megan were permanently shipped to a boarding school.

She and Killian… alone… in this town.

She might just be able to endure the silence.

"Can I get you anything?" Came a friendly voice.

Tink turned to find Ruby standing there, big small-town frienedly smile and mug of steaming coffee.

She smiled back. "Yes, one of those will do nicely."

As Ruby pored her coffee, Tink spoke again. "Do you know… Ruby or Grandma Lucas?"

The beautiful young waitress turned sharply to her. "I'm Ruby."

"Oh what a marvelous coincidence!" She smiled broadly before holding her hand out. "My name is Tanya Bell. But you can call me Tink. I'm new in town and the kind young man from the bus station, Mr. Scarlett, told me you might be able to offer me lodging here?"

"Oh!" Ruby nodded. "Of course! We still have a few rooms available!"

"Great! So I'll just have my coffee and… Oh!" She grinned. "Maybe you know where I can find someone…"

Ruby shrugged. I know just about everyone in this town."

"Great! Then you may know Mr. Killian Jones? He was my teacher once. I was hoping I could take up my art lessons with him again and I was told he had moved here."

"Yeah, Professor Jones" Ruby nodded, grinning. "He works at the elementary school, art teacher. You knew him before?"

"About five years ago, in London." She nodded.

"Well, small world!"

"It is indeed."

"Yeah, he comes here often. He's quite fond of our grilled cheese."

Tink could almost feel her heart leap out her chest. "Yes, that would be him!"

"Well, if I see him around, I'll tell him you're staying here!" Ruby nodded. "He's become so much more open these days, ever since he met Emma…"

The sudden crushing sound of a massive car accident in a busy freeway didn't hold a candle to the sudden inner feeling in Tink's chest. She swallowed hard. "Who's… Emma?"

Ruby nodded. "She's my friend. She works here in the mornings. She kind of… caught the Professor's eye." She winked. "I think they're super cute together, actually."

"You… do…"

"Oh yeah! I mean, if this is the same Killian Jones we're talking about, then you probably know he's rudely gorgeous. And Emma's quite pretty too. If I didn't know better, from the way she's been behaving lately…" She pressed her lips together and nodded. "I'd say she's pretty taken with the guy. Who could blame her, right?"

"Right."

"Anyway, enjoy the coffee, if you need anything else, let me know. I'll check the room availability for you." Ruby grinned. "Welcome to Storybrooke, Tanya!"

When Ruby returned to her place behind the counter, she took a look at the new stranger in town, and something in her gut told her that something was just… off with this chick.

She texted Emma. "New weirdo in town. Says she knows Killian. Bad feeling about it. Call me."

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"Every time… you just… how the hell do you do all this?" Emma swallowed the last piece of the unbelievably delicious Lamb Korma Killian had cooked. "And I'm not even a fan of curry, but this!"

She literally licked her fingertips.

He grinned. "Glad you enjoyed it, Swan."

"Sure you are, this probably wasn't easy to cook." She cleaned her lips with a napkin. "I can taste like a million things in here… cardamom?"

"Aye… and…?" He nodded playfully.

"Cumin."

"Like all eastern meals, of course. What else?"

"A little bit of clove… maybe ginger?"

"Wonderful!" He applauded. "You've got a connoisseur's tongue, Emma."

She smiled. "Yeah, well, I've tasted a one thousand two hundred dollar wine, that made a sommelier out of a humble waitress."

Killian sighed deep. "I think you're an artist yourself…"

Emma nodded sadly. "I might have been. Once. But then I got pregnant at eighteen and if it comes to either feeding your son or attending drama school..." She shrugged. "Priorities are priorities." She raised her eyes to him. "I saw you were making a fairly decent living… from what I… googled."

Killian raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Yes, Swan, well... I used to think that myself. Losing my family made me realize money really doesn't dictate what a good life is." He grinned. "I think the time has come… for us to open the Haagen Daaz once more."

Emma grinned and made her own way to the kitchen. After she pulled the tub from the freezer, she looked around. "Spoons?"

"By the stove."

"Wow, ready for everything, I see."

Killian laughed. "That was my daughter. She was the one that told me to provide the cutlery. Cheeky little girl."

Emma sat down again, tub and spoons in hand. "Since this is a sad substitute for champagne, might the gentleman do the honor of cracking it open?"

As he happily opened the tub, Emma leaned her chin on her hand. "Is Megan also acting like a little… matchmaker?"

He laughed healthily as he placed the ice-cream on the table and took a spoon. "Actually, yes. She… caught us making out by the docks the other night…" He blushed a little. "And she keeps talking about… pillow fights."

"Pillow fights?" Emma sneered smiling as she stuffed her mouth with a rather large spoonful of ice cream.

Killian raised his brows, grinned and kept his eyes fixed on the ice cream (because looking at Emma and explaining Megan's misgivings on the whole "adult sleepover" business simultaneously would certainly make him look like a serious bumbling idiot). "Aye, apparently, one rather well-evolved little classmate of hers explained to her that some adults have sleep-overs where the ensuing parties embroil in rather noisy… pillow fights."

Shit. He didn't even have to look at Emma to feel her chuckle-contained stare. He blushed hard.

Fuck it.

"Well, let's just hope she continues believing it's… pillow fights." She finally laughed.

"Certainly, I'd wager she really doesn't fully know the implications…" He finally laughed. "Or at least I really hope she doesn't… not yet, anyway."

Emma laughed through her smile. "Henry tells me they've... talked about us." She shook her head. "I swear I can feel a parent trap kind of plot brewing there. I know my son, he's into all these missions and spy operations. I'm sure he and Megan have started an… 'Operation Hayley Mills"' or something like that."

"I'm sure they have. They're clever little bastards… Nevertheless..." He sighed and looked at Emma. "I honestly don't know where I'd be if I didn't have Megan." He gulped. "She saved my life, really."

Emma sighed and reached out to grab his one hand. He grinned and interlaced his fingers with her. "So… Henry is also okay with this?"

"Whatever 'this' is, yeah, he's fine."

He finally gathered courage to look into her eyes. "So… you know the full story now."

"Yeah… and I also saw your work. Killian, seriously..:" She shook her head. "I was… overcome by the power of those paintings, I swear."

He chuckled. "It takes a madman to plaster down all that crazy gobbledygook on canvass…"

"Maybe… but a hell of a talented madman." She rubbed her thumb on his hand.

Killian licked his lower lip and narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps… Emma Swan should attent drama school now."

"Yeah, right!" She smiled and leaned back, releasing his hand. "Thirty years old and an acting student. If I hurry I might land a theater role for Little Red Riding Hood's Grandma…"

"Swan, I'm serious." He leaned forward. "You've the looks, you actually remember the script for Romeo and Juliet, who knows?"

Emma swallowed. "I only know how to wait tables, Killian. That's all that life gave me a chance to learn."

He shook his head. "That's not true. You know how to raise a boy, you know how to be a good mother, you know how to smile, and god knows you have a way to make a man go insane. Not to mention, you do have keen senses, Emma. Your heart is eager to learn, you just… don't believe in yourself."

She huffed and dipped the spoon in the tub. "And who will look after my son while I'm gallivanting off with a bunch of teen model wannabees in a drama course? Who will be making money to pay the rent?"

"Here's an idea…" Le whispered. "You tell that fat, bloody bastard Dinapoli to fuck the hell off and you can use a couple of afternoons off to go to school. Thousands of people do it, swan, why can't you?" He raised his arms. "I've one hand, love, and I've managed to fix boats for the past five years."

Emma stared hard at him. What kind of man was this that could see so clearly through her, know her inner desires and her unfulfilled dreams? She side-grinned.

"Tell you what… If you really do start painting again, I'll go to school."

He gasped with a grin. "Manipulative wench…"

"Yeah buddy. Get used to it."

He smiled fully at her. Well… I've a rather sizeable canvass right over there. What do you say we get started, Swan?"

She stood up and dusted the sloping fall of her red dress. He glanced at her and smiled. "By the way, how uncourtly of me. I forgot to say something."

She looked up at him. "What?"

Killian blinked and grinned a goofy grin. "You look stunning, Swan. Red is my favorite color and you cut quite a figure in it."

The apples in Emma's cheeks reached an all new record as she grinned at him and made a note to thank Henry for the tip.

Killian reached out and touched the tip of her nose. "My god, you are beautiful." He leaned in and kissed her gently before pulling her to the living room. "Come on, Miss Swan. Let's immortalize your face in an original Killian J. Jones, shall we?" As Emma sat down on the couch before him, he turned from the canvass with a wink. "After all, I might later on be able to say I was able to paint Emma Swan, the famous, academy award winning actress, before she made her first movie. That might make this quite priceless. Now… stay still."

Emma studied his movements like a hawk: How the intensity of his gaze changed as he sketched her, the penetrating cerulean eyes, dilated and focused on her every feature, measuring her with the angles of his thumb and index, then turning silently to the canvass, plastering the magnificent beauty that Emma Swan was though his vision. He walked over to her and delicately angled her face in a different position and chuckled as he tried to clear her cheek from a coal stain. "Smile, darling…" He asked softly as he paced back to the easel. He continued gazing, staring, smiling and saying soft "yes'es" every time he got something exactly the way he wanted it.

After an hour of incredibly comfortable (and even sensual) silence, he huffed, almost a heaving relief, as he smiled at his model. "That's it."

She turned to him. "What? You're done?" She stood keenly. "Can I look?"

"Ah ah ah!" He stood before her. "Not until it's finished. I only sketched you, you're the centerpiece of the painting. I will continue adding details and things to it later."

"Aw, not even a little peek?"

"Nope." He grinned, crossing his arms. "But I promise you… you will be my first critic when it's done."

She nodded. "Well, we still have a couple hours."

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Not… pillow fighting, Swan."

She shook her head. "No, I don't think we're quite there, yet. But I was thinking… Netflix?"

He smiled and nodded. "I've popcorn."

"Princess Bride?"

"Always a classic. Make yourself at home, love, I'll get started on the snacks and… oh.." He sneered. "Look, Swan, the ice cream melted!"

She walked to him and placed her hands around his waist. "That's ok. I'm not depressed enough to have any more anyway."

He grinned and leaned his forehead against her. "That is good news indeed, my dear lady Swan…"

After a prolonged kiss (that made Emma wonder about his Pillow Fighting skills because DAMN the boy could kiss up a storm!), Killian got started on the popcorn and Emma found the movie.

They only reached the part with the 'Shrieking Eels'; they fell asleep on the couch, her head leaning on his shoulder and his own head on hers.

Neither of them had felt so blissfully safe and warm in a very, very long time.

Emma didn't even see the text message from Ruby.