The wifi connection is pretty iffy, but I'm going to try to post this tonight. Thanks for all the encouragement and feedback on the story so far. Since we've had a little drama and angst, I went for a fluffy chapter this time. Enjoy!
P.S. I may be giving away my husband. He almost let the move happen without my cardboard cut out of Captain Hook. I think it is grounds for divorce.
"Wham!" Ruby shouted over the crowd at the Rabbit Hole, her hand slapping the aged wood of the bar with emphatic emphasis. "I would have hit him so hard that he wouldn't have remembered his name." Her eyes blazed with anger, even more evident now that Emma and Killian had finished their description of Neal's reaction to the news of Henry.
"I've never seen Regina so worried," Emma admitted, her fingers rubbing over the raised pattern of the paper napkins. "Not so much about Neal, but Mr. Gold. Neal's not got an ounce of power, but Mr. Gold…that man runs owns the majority of the town and half the state. If he wants to fight to see his grandson…"
"That's assuming that Neal goes to his father," Mary Margaret pointed out. To demonstrate just how seriously the friends were taking the situation, even the teacher was drinking beer from the tap rather than ordering her usual drink. I don't think they get along well enough for that to happen."
David shook his head in disbelief. "If anything could bring those two back to together, it would be this. Gold's probably been waiting a decade for a something to offer his son. This might just be the ticket."
Emma made a sour expression with her face, slamming her bottle down with a little more force than she meant. "Great, I have potentially reunited Neal with his father. That wasn't exactly my plan here, guys."
Neal had not become any easier to talk to about Henry, despite Emma's attempts to remain positive over the situation. The man was bound and determined that he should have some rights to the little boy. Killian and Emma had long sense lost patience and finally told Neal that Emma would talk with the boy's adoptive mother about the situation. Promising nothing, Emma and Killian had met Ruby, David, and Mary Margaret for a few drinks to debrief and offer a toast to Emma's involvement in returning Anna and Kris from the kidnapping.
"This isn't your fault," Mary Margaret reminded her. "You were a kid yourself. You couldn't have…"
"Neal wasn't around for you to tell," Ruby interrupted. While usually easygoing and friendly, Ruby had a fiery temper when one of her friends was threatened. That side of her was on full display when she had seen Emma frazzled by the meeting with Neal. She had to be talked down from planning the man's murder, which Killian noted was bad form in front of a sheriff and deputy. "What did he expect you to do? Go on America's Most Wanted? Rent some billboards? You were trying to survive and he got away free and clear. It really pisses me off…" The raven haired beauty was ignoring the appreciative glances coming her way. Her pants were so right that they appeared to be a second skin on her and the lacy overlay top dipped down provocatively to reveal a wolf tattoo just at the juncture of the small of her back. Several men had already sent her drinks to garner her attention. She had sent most of them back with a roll of her eyes.
"Is Regina considering letting Neal meet Henry?" David said, cutting off the latest tirade. "I know she's not exactly thrilled about the turn of events, but maybe if Neal saw Henry then he'd calm down a little." Emma wasn't surprised that David would want to believe the best in Neal. The two had been the best of friends growing up and practically inseparable. The man's betrayal of David's friendship by setting up Emma and disappearing had hit the sheriff hard.
"I doubt it," Emma admitted, her head dropping to Killian's shoulder for a moment as though the closeness gave her a bit of strength. "The only reason I'm allowed in his life is because he freaking ran away to meet me. I can practically guarantee that Regina will make sure I'm out of it the first chance she gets."
The group of friends nodded in agreement, each taking a sip of their beers like a mocking toast to the fact. "Regina's not good at sharing," Mary Margaret noted, knowing the mayor better than any of them. "I don't think co-parenting would be a good alternative either."
Emma insisted that she wasn't seeking a chance to co-parent. She was confident and knew that her decision to place Henry had been the best under the circumstances. Despite the adoptive mother's fear that Emma would somehow decide she wanted to be a large part of Henry's life, she had no intention of superseding that authority.
"I thought you were brilliant," Killian told her when Mary Margaret went to the ladies room and David managed to convince Ruby to challenge him to a game of pool. "You were confident and told Neal exactly what needed to be said. I'm quite proud of you."
"Even if I didn't manage to put him off this," Emma said, her head lowering again to his shoulder. She was admittedly not much for public displays of affection, but she found herself seeking out his touch. Whether it was a quick hug or a caress of the hand, she did not think too much about those things until someone pointed it out to her.
"I don't think there was any other outcome. He has no right to, but Neal feels betrayed. He lashed out because of that. It was unfair to you, but you handled it much better than I could have ever. I'm impressed with you, love. I would have been much more inclined to be like Ruby in this situation." He rested his cheek against the top of her head for a moment until he could see that both Ruby and David were watching with amused expressions. Deciding it was probably best not to encourage their teasing of Emma, he moved away slightly.
"I guess," Emma said sadly. "I just wish that he could understand what I did and why. It was never about him or to punish him. I was trying to do the best I could for Henry." She stifled a yawn. "I guess I'm a little tired."
"You've had quite a day," Killian noted. "What with the missing person's case and your confrontation with Neal. I'd say that the lass is in good need of a night of rest and pampering."
"Pampering?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips at his roguish eyebrow waggle. "What do you have in mind, Mr. Jones?" She loved that playful banter that they so often shared these days, the colorful teasing and more loving glances that smoothed so many of the frayed edges.
He chuckled lowly. "I was thinking perhaps I could draw you a bath and make sure your muscles are nice and loose. Maybe we could sample a bit of that wine that I have been saving for special occasion. A fire in the fireplace, a bit of snuggling on the couch while I tell you how wonderful you are? Sound pleasant?"
"Sounds like heaven," Emma admitted, startling herself with how easy it seemed to imagine. The two of them shared a quick and chaste kiss before heading over to say good night to the three other friends.
"Why don't you take tomorrow off?" David asked, winding his arm around his fiancé's waist. "I can handle things on the paperwork end of things. That way you're ready and fresh for the interviews with Anna and all."
It wasn't too far of a way back to Killian's where Emma found herself that evening. True to his word, he drew her a bath and placed a chilled glass of wine in her hand as she emerged pink from the heat of the water and wrinkly from the time spent beneath the bubbles.
"I'm not even going to ask why a man like you has bubble bath," Emma teased good naturedly. "I have a hard time picturing you in a tub with bubbles up to your chin."
His eyes danced, pushing back a bit of her damp hair with his hand, he nipped at her neck that he had exposed. "Perhaps I had that on hand with you in mind," he said in the same teasing voice she had used. "Any excuse to get you naked, love."
"And any excuse will do?" she asked, her eyes sparkling under the dark lashes.
"Aye," he agreed. "As a matter of fact, I'm disappointed you are so covered up right now."
She giggled as he tugged on the fabric belt of his robe she was wearing. "Killian, it's spitting snow outside and I'm freezing. You can't really expect me to be naked all the time."
"Bloody shame," he declared. "Though I don't wish for you to catch pneumonia or some other awful malady. That's why I built a nice fire for us."
Leading her over to the couch, he waved his arm to the set up of roaring fire and the few snacks he had provided. Nothing was overly extravagant, but there were crackers, grapes, olives, and a few other items. More wine was also at hand. From the look on his face, one would think that he had grown, crafted, invented, or fashioned each of the items himself.
Rising to her toes on her bare feet, she kissed him, tasting a combination of the wine and the beer that they had before. "Thank you for taking care of me," she murmured against his mouth. "You always seem to know just want to do. How do you do that?"
His smirk was half cockiness and half chagrin as he leaned his forehead toward hers. "I can't say there is some huge secret, love. I just try to think what would make you smile. Your smiles are quite addicting to me and I find myself willing to do anything necessary to earn one."
She brushed her lips to his again, pushing her hands against his chest lightly until he sat down on the sofa. Not waiting to be invited, she followed, her legs straddling him and lifting her into the higher position. "Your smile isn't so bad either," she teased. "I think I'm getting addicted to it too."
"Are you now?" His voice was barely a hoarse whisper. "Then I suppose we make quite a team. It is fortunate that we found each other."
She smiled down at him, not answering with words, but with a gentle caress of her hand against his cheek, the stubble tickling her palm. Lowering her mouth to his, she sucked his bottom lip between hers, nipping at it lightly with her teeth and laving at the indentations with her tongue. Her movements were slow and a bit lazy, as if she might continue for hours or stop at any moment. He groaned with appreciation for them. With one arm about her waist to hold her steady, the other hand pulled at the robe he had lent her, lowering it from her shoulders in not such a smooth movement. First one side dropped from her shoulder and then the other.
"So much for snuggling by the fire," admonished lightly.
His smirk against her skin as he tasted the exposed flesh told her he was not sorry that things tended to grow heated between them. "This is exactly what I had in mind," he replied huskily. "Nothing better than kissing and tasting you, my love."
They continued for a bit, kissing and running their mouths over each other at the languid pace that neither of them had fully intended to set. She nipped at his pulse, eliciting sounds from him that matched her own as his ministrations drew them out of her. The loudest was when her hand slipped between them and into the waist of his pants where she found his rigid length. The sound of his moan as her palm and fingers curled around it vibrated against her.
She pulled back slightly to watch is eyes darken and the lids create hoods that fell over them as pulled and massaged the sensitive flesh. His gasp was swallowed as he jerked forward to capture her mouth again once her thumb ran over the tip of him. Her name was falling off his tongue in a reverent sort of way, soft and prayerful.
Despite his desperate state at her touching him, he managed to open the robe she wore fully. Both his hands and mouth explored and appreciated the soft skin that pulled taut of her form. His fingers sought out her gentle folds, seeking to pleasure her even as he felt his own pleasure and need rising desperately.
Her hand settled into a steady rhythm in cadence with is hips and moans that create a staccato beat. When he was not kissing her, he was whispering some almost incoherent about her being a marvel, which made her inordinately happy for some reason she wasn't trying to understand.
"Emma," he said, making her name an innate portion of his moan. "Darling, I need you. I need to…"
She smiled wickedly, tugging a bit harder at him before returning her concentration to his removing his pants completely. While his words were more wanton, hers were tinged with requests for patience – a large request for a man as wanting as he was at that moment.
They did not manage to make it to the bedroom, their bodies seeking each other and their own completions there on the sofa. Firelight danced across their bodies as their limbs tangled and hearts raced with each movement. Again he appreciated her natural glow and exuberance as she climaxed around him, enthralled with her all over again.
***AAA***
Killian read through the email one more time, the laptop propped up on his legs as his sat in the chair in his bedroom with his feet on the hassock. With Emma sleeping only a few feet away, he had elected to work from home for a little while, enjoying the quietness that did not come from solitude but from the comfort of having her nearby. She was wrapped protectively in his blanket, her arms circling a pillow and her blonde hair falling across another one.
He had been loath to wake up and remove himself from the bed, preferring the idea of cradling her rather than the silver laptop he was holding. However, duty called and thankfully his job afforded him a bit of flexibility. Taking a long sip of coffee, he lowered the mug to the arm of the chair and typed out a few more details for the potential client.
"You're still here," Emma said, her voice a bit hoarse from sleep. Palm down on the rumpled sheets, she pushed herself up enough to view the clock on his bedside table. "Why did you let me sleep so late?" She pushed part of the hair back from her face and looked at him pointedly, blinking at the bright light coming in around the curtains he had not opened.
"Good morning," he said, placing the laptop and coffee out of harms way and crossing over to the bed. "You needed your rest and I was not about to wake you up when you looked so peaceful."
She pursed her lips together, looking at him thoughtfully. "You haven't been watching me sleep, have you? That's such a creepy, stalker thing to do."
He snickered, running a hand along the side of her face and covering his fingers in the blonde tresses. "I have not been watching you," he said. "I may have stolen a glance, cut a bit of your hair for DNA cloning purposes, and taken a few photographs that are now on my Facebook page, but I did not do anything creep of stalkerish."
She looked incredulous, blinking her eyes. "You have a Facebook page and haven't friend requested me? I think I'm insulted." Her mock annoyance only lasted a moment before pounced to dig his fingers into her ticklish flanks, dissolving into a pile of giggles and gasps before she screamed out her surrender.
"You give up way too easily," he announced, hovering over her with his head dipped toward her. "I hope that you are more persistent in your professional pursuits."
She reached upward to his partially buttoned shirt, tugging on it to pull him forward slightly. Her hands fisting on the soft flannel material. "I think it is the effect you have one me," she said with a pout. "I have had every intention of refusing you, but I can't quit coming back. When I first met you, you were just supposed to be a little entertainment for the evening. You were going to help me get Ruby off my back about setting me up on bad blind dates."
His smirk grew, lower lip trembling with unreleased laughter. "I think she fell for it," he mockingly pointed out. "We have done a passable job at appearing to be a dating couple." There was a quick wink before he let her pull him even closer.
"Just passable?" she asked. "I think we could go for the academy award at this point. I'm starting to believe it myself." Her legs hooked over the backs of his calves. "And everyone is still buying it."
He looked offended, lips parted and forehead crinkled with a sad downward turn. "I can assure you, Swan, what I feel for you is quite real."
Lifting one of her hands to his face, Emma's thumb traced of the faint scar on his cheek. "It feels real to me too."
***AAA***
Emma had expected the phone call from Regina to come at the crack of dawn, but the woman refrained until almost 11 a.m. Keeping with their lazy tradition of the day, both Emma and Killian were sitting at opposing ends of the sofa with their legs entwined under the blanket. Killian was attempting a bit more work as Emma read the front page story in the Daily Mirror about the rescue of Anna and Kristoff. Steaming mugs of hot chocolate were at their sides and the curtains opened to the start of a snowy landscape that appeared much more than the weather reports of just flurries.
Reaching for the phone a bit lazily, Emma's relaxed state faded with the recognition of the phone number on the screen. Still, she answered it with a gentle sigh of resignation and nodded reassuringly to Killian who was watching her over the screen of his computer. Emma tried to be succinct in her explanations of Neal's reaction, understanding Regina's hatred of small talk and unnecessary details.
"I would probably anticipate that he will make some effort to reach out to you," Emma said, after explaining that despite her refusal to actually name Regina, Neal was sure to figure it out. "You can decide how best to handle him. The lawyers I consulted have all said that everything was done legally and he is not within his rights to contact you or Henry."
"Great," the mayor said, sarcasm dripping from each syllable she uttered. "So when he kidnaps Henry we can just console ourselves with the knowledge that he wasn't within his rights. It's the same as people who don't look both ways when crossing the street in a crosswalk. Yes, if they get hit the driver is at fault, but that knowledge does nothing for the pain and suffering of being hit by a car."
"I only meant…"
"I know what you meant, Ms. Swan. And thank you for talking to that man. I can't believe that you did not think to tell me of the connection when I hired him for the investigation. Do you really think I would have brought him here to Storybrooke if I had known?"
Emma knew that her own ability to bury her head in the sand was not always a healthy one. She had done it too many times, hiding from the cold realities that might distract her from the task at hand. However, as was the case here, her habit had a tendency to put others at risk. "I'm sorry, Regina," Emma said finally. "I never imagined that he would come here and I certainly never thought that there would be a need to discuss anything with him. But I assure you. As angry as he is, he won't harm you or Henry. He's just blowing smoke right now."
The two women talked for a moment or two longer, Regina asking a few questions and Emma trying to answer them. Killian pretended to keep working, but Emma could tell that he was actually listening to her end of the conversation. His eyebrow arched at moments and he reached down to run his hand on her leg when it sounded as though she might be a bit upset over something that was said.
"I should go," Regina replied with a sigh. "I…Henry has an event at school. I'm sure that your friend has already told you about it. He's reciting a poem that he wrote for a class. I…I thought you might like to attend. It would mean a lot to him." Unlike her usual demeanor, Regina sounded almost frightened and shy at the concept. Emma could tell that the woman was reluctant but still made the effort.
"I think that would be great," Emma said softly. "I'll get the details from Mary Margaret."
"Yes, you do that."
Emma placed the phone back down smiling as Killian lifted his eyes in a badly acted display of surprise. "Did the phone call go well, love?" He was the picture of innocence with his blue eyes shining and the dark hair falling over the creases of his forehead.
She told him about the discussion regarding Neal, listening to his advice and offering her own thoughts on the subject. They chatted about that and other things for a few minutes, including deciding that to celebrate the first snow of the season that they should have some of her famous stew. She puttered and snooped around his kitchen in search of the ingredients, pushing him out when she explained that it was top secret and not for his eyes. "You can't know what's in it," she said firmly, clanging a pot onto the stove and chopping vegetables in large chunks.
"Sounds dangerous," he replied, fetching her a bottle of white wine that she requested.
Eyeing him over the steam that was already starting to rise from the pot of stew ingredients, she smiled. "Many of the best things in life are just that – dangerous."
***AAA***
The snow was not very deep on their walk back from the market and Emma's apartment, but Killian still tried to make a few snowballs that he wisely chose to throw at inanimate objects rather than her. He admitted that he still felt rather childlike in the fluffy whiteness.
"There's just something about it," he told her, lips turned up as he gazed toward the sky. Fat, wet flakes were falling again, speckling his normally black hair with bits of white. "SIt makes me want to build a snowman."
"Not enough snow or time for that," she surmised, shifting her bag on her back as they crossed over Sixth Street on their way to his apartment. "We have to get back to the stew."
He grumbled a bit, pulling her to him as they reached the sidewalk. His smile seemed brighter as he used his free hand to tug on the knit cap she wore. "Enough time for this?" he asked, sealing her mouth with a kiss. Her eyes fluttered shut as a lone snowflake landed on her eyelashes. She called him a sentimental dork, but there was a laughter to her words that echoed between the two of them as they watched some of the other residents enjoy the snow too.
***AAA***
Emma's long legs seemed to go on for miles from under the hem of the button down shirt she had borrowed from Killian despite having picked up a change of clothes. With a skeptical eye, she stared into the pot on the stove, stirring in even circles just as she had been taught by Granny during a brief stint at the diner. "It's missing something," she muttered more to herself than Killian, who was standing next to her and slathering herbed butter on bread to be toasted in the oven.
"I've got a few jarred herbs in that cabinet there," he said, pointing with his elbow. "Not quite the right season for the fresh stuff."
Reluctantly she left her position and began to rummage through the items he had. She was duly impressed that the man owned more than salt and pepper, as most men she knew rarely got more eccentric with the spice selection than say garlic powder. Plucking the dried thyme from the shelf, she shook a dash into the pot and covered it with a lid. "It's going to be ready in a few minutes," she promised him, nodding to his perfectly symmetrical bread slices. "Just enough time to pop those in the oven."
"I'm rather enjoying you like this," he said, shutting the oven door with his hip. "I could get used to it." She was leaned down in front of the open refrigerator and staring into its contents.
"What barefoot, half naked and cooking your dinner?" she asked. She turned to see his expression, which wasn't the confident bravado she usually saw from him. The tips of his ears were pink and his eyes darted away momentarily. She knew she had said the wrong thing, as Killian was nothing if not supportive and certainly an encouraging man.
"I just meant us working together, spending the day just the two of us," he said, waving his hand as if to brush away whatever anxiety he felt over her words. "I suppose that some would say it was boring, but I have been enjoying myself."
She could have made a quip about the fact that he enjoyed their activities in bed or on his sofa. She could have been her usual snarky and sarcastic self, as that was her biggest defense mechanism. Instead she mimicked his earlier move and closed the refrigerator with her hip. "I'm enjoying myself too," she said, her voice hitching a bit. I like spending time with you."
She was almost sure that it was relief in Killian's eyes as they mutually closed the distance between them. "I'm a lucky bloke," he said roughly, holding her hips against his. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Emma, but I'm so grateful I did whatever that was."
Her eyes closed as she shook her head no. "Killian, I…"
"Don't," he said softly. "You don't even see how wonderful you are, love. You have no idea how brilliant, beautiful, and wonderful I find you. And I swear to you, my love, that I want to show you how special you are to me every day."
Her throat jumped as she swallowed hard, the words unbelievable and sweet at the same time. "I'm not perfect, Killian," she said, breathing his scent into her lungs. "I can't be."
"Nobody is perfect," he reminded her. "Not me, not you, not anyone. So don't think I am mistaking your brilliance for perfection." He cradled her face in his hands, thumbs dragging out across the warm skin. "I…I have been holding this back, fearing your reaction if I said anything. I don't wish to pressure you. If you want me to court and pursue you for years then I will gladly do it. But you must know that I see a future with you. I hope that you might feel the same."
There was barely a sound as she whispered his name. "Killian, I need more time," she said, voice wavering. "I…I don't know that I can say that. I don't know that I can mean it."
"I said too much," he sighed, leaning his head backwards. "I'm sorry. I read things wrong. I…"
"Killian," Emma said, the soft blue of his shirt she was wearing seeming to make her appear even more ethereal with the halo of blonde waves. "I don't say these words. I'm not superstitious, but I've never had much luck with them."
"I should not have pushed," he said, not letting go of her. "Forgive me?" He swayed a bit, the light of the kitchen glowing off his dark hair and the scent of the bread filling the air. His stomach rumbled a bit.
She blinked a few times and then nodded her head. "I think you just got all sentimental because of my stew," she told him. "If I made hot dogs, you would probably be less impressed with me."
"You could serve me cheese and crackers or Granny's lasagna and I'd still be in love with you, Emma Swan." He coughed, eyes widening as he heard his confession. "I didn't mean…bloody hell."
She laughed as his stomach rumbled again, followed by hers. "We could attribute it to hunger, but Killian…don't take it back. I may not be good at saying it and even pretty bad at hearing it, but the words are pretty nice."
Thoughts?