Emma scrunched her eyes shut - not that it made much of a difference in her nearly pitch dark bedroom - and silently recited to herself the list of names of new skips she had to start tracking down in the coming week, hoping that the monotony of the exercise would trick her brain into finally going to sleep, even though she knew it was useless.
It wasn't because of what had happened at dinner, although maybe she was still stewing ( obsessing ) about that a little bit ( a lot ). Actually, the awkwardness from that situation had all but dissipated after they'd gotten back to the apartment. Emma had put on a pot of decaf, and she, Liam and Killian talked until nearly midnight.
Killian proved to be far more than the 'wastrel' Liam had painted him to be. (What the hell is a wastrel anyway?) In fact, Emma found him to be articulate, funny, well-read. He had all kinds of stories about the different places he'd traveled negotiating contracts for an import/export business, and he told them with dramatic flair and a twinkle in his unfairly blue eyes. For the first time in years, Emma was actually considering using her vacation days so she could see a few of the wonders he described. Of course, she wasn't thinking about what it would be like to see those sights with Killian. That would be ridiculous.
Maybe despite her initial reaction to him, Killian was actually kind of okay. She might even concede that she liked him. A little. Which only added to her horror at how she had behaved earlier. Even now, hours later, she can feel her face flush all over again just thinking about it.
No one had ever looked at her the way Killian did when he kissed her hand. It sent odd little prickles all over her skin and made her stomach do some kind of flippy thing, so of course her hackles raised immediately. Only natural. Honestly, it had felt completely different from her usual internal 'creep detector' going off, but still.
It happened again - the tingles and shivers - when he had helped her remove her coat, his fingers brushing gently against her shoulder in the process. He'd been too close. So close that for a moment, she could feel his body heat, breathe in his scent of soap and leather and clean laundry. He had to be doing it on purpose, trying to throw her off by making her feel all fluttery inside.
She briefly considered that maybe he was testing her. Obviously this man knew the effect he had on women. Maybe he wanted to know just how loyal his brother's new girlfriend was. If her head could be turned by a stupidly attractive face and a tight pair of jeans. Good god, those jeans. When Killian had turned aside to remove his own jacket, she'd really gotten an eyeful.
Then he'd tossed the jacket on the seat, and it was the first time Emma had really noticed the prosthetic Killian wore in place of a left hand. She knew about it. Liam had mentioned before something about a car accident a few years ago. It didn't seem to be any kind of hindrance to him really, and Emma had the sense not to ask about it. Besides, it was really hard to focus on something like a prosthetic hand when Killian was looking at her with those damn expressive eyes, and his tongue was doing that thing it does again.
And then during their meal, well… he just kept looking at her, his eyes fixed on hers more often than not. Not that she was looking back at him. And he listened to her, really listened - like he actually cared about her crazy bail skip catching stories. So, no then. Not testing her. His interest seemed, well, genuine. Which was totally wrong, right? She was supposed to be Liam's girl, and Killian was NOT supposed to be looking at her like that (and she was NOT supposed to be kind of maybe liking it). So yeah, maybe when she felt the toe of his boot nudge and graze the side of her calf, felt the heat rising in her body from the point of contact up across her chest, neck and into her face, she had assumed that he was hitting on her, and getting angry at Killian was way easier than dealing with any other feelings or thoughts she might have been having.
So, she'd snapped at him, making an ass of herself and embarrassing all three of them in the process. Of course it hadn't been about her. Of course he was trying to get at Liam for being a stereotypical big brother. Killian was just a flirtatious guy, and he had only been being attentive to her out of respect for Liam. How freaking vain was she to think that he wanted her?
Emma curled in on herself under the sheets and smushed her face into her pillow at the memory. But no, that wasn't what was keeping her awake right now, humiliating as the situation had been. Her insomnia was all due to one very significant flaw in her and Liam's planning for this little charade of theirs. Somehow, for all the prep work she and Liam had done to ready themselves to play a believable couple, they had never given a single thought to the sleeping arrangements.
It was lucky, really, that Liam was the type to give up his room to an overnight guest. He'd already put Killian's luggage in there before they'd left for the restaurant. She supposed Liam had intended to sleep on the couch or something while Killian took his bed. That probably fell under the heading of 'good form'. Whatever.
Didn't make it any less weird when Killian bid them good night, insisting that they needn't keep him company, that he'd just stay up and watch a bit of 'telly' for a while, and then shooed Emma and Liam both toward Emma's bedroom. Because they're boyfriend/girlfriend. Of course they sleep in the same bed.
Emma hoped they played off Liam's stammering and her blush as either a sign of good manners at not wanting to neglect a houseguest or maybe some kind of American prudery on Emma's part. She could hardly be bothered to worry about that right now, when her roommate was in her room in her bed wearing nothing but his undershirt and boxers and snoring louder than those effing power tools he loves so much!
Nope. No, this was too weird. Liam was being very good about staying way the hell over on his side of the bed (thank God), and it had been her who insisted that he share the bed rather than sleeping on the floor like he'd offered. Emma sighed heavily. Nuh-uhn. Sleep wasn't about to happen anytime soon. She needed some hot chocolate and mindless late night TV and to calm the hell down.
She looked over at the soft blue glow of her alarm clock. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. She listened as best she could over and between Liam's snores, but couldn't make out the sound of the living room TV. Surely Killian was sound asleep in Liam's room by now. Why wouldn't he be? Not like he's reliving the way he over-reacted and falsely accused his roommate's brother of being a jerk and made a scene in a nice restaurant. Nope. That would be me.
She slunk out of bed, careful not to wake Liam, and slid her feet into her favorite fuzzy slippers. Stealth mode: engaged . Padding her way across the bedroom, she cracked open the door and made a quick survey of the living room, noting the closed door of Liam's room on the far side of the common space. Coast: clear.
A few minutes later, hot chocolate in one hand, remote control in the other, Emma settled down on the couch to watch some cheesy old movie. Which was great. Perfect even. Until the first commercial break, at which point her mind began to wander, and as it wandered, it began to whisper to her.
You don't really believe that was anger you were feeling earlier, do you? Emma told her brain to shut up. Girl, please. That man is gorgeous. And smart and interesting and- Emma clicked the volume on the TV a notch higher, and tried being deeply interested in the commercial for car polish that was playing. The Beetle could use a good wax. So could your bikini line. Better trim the hedges, since you seem to be planning on having a visitor in the neighborhood again…
"Mind if I join you, Swan?"
Emma startled, her body tensing so hard she practically levitated off the couch. She turned, wide-eyed to see Killian standing at the doorway to Liam's room. His hair was even more rumpled than before, as though he'd been dragging his hand through it. His prosthetic was gone, his left arm simply ending just above the wrist, and for a moment Emma felt as though she were getting far too personal a view - like reading someone's diary. Gone, too, were his ear stud and heavy rings, the only remaining jewelry a long silver chain that disappeared into the v-neck of his grey t-shirt. The form-fitting jeans had been swapped for a pair of flannel pajama bottoms with tiny sailboats on them. He looked softer, younger. Completely edible.
Oh, holy hell.
Emma didn't know how long she sat there, struck mute as much by Killian's sudden presence as by the truly unfortunate realization that she was seriously, seriously attracted to her roommate's brother. The very same brother she was supposed to be trying to convince that she was Liam's girlfriend . The pause had to be substantial though, as she noticed Killian shuffling self-consciously awaiting her answer.
"Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you there." Killian gave her a small apologetic smile.
Finally, Emma's brain got her mouth to work. "Uh, no. No, it's fine. I hope I didn't wake you up. Is the TV too loud?" She reached for the remote where it had fallen on the floor.
"Not at all, lass. I couldn't really sleep." He paused, a slight inexplicable bit of pink tinting the tips of his ears. "Strange place and all. But, I heard the telly switch on, and saw you there on the sofa and thought perhaps insomnia loves company?"
Emma smiled despite the nervousness tightening her chest as she sat up straighter, remote in hand once again. She stuck her arm over the back of the couch offering the remote to Killian, and raised her eyebrows at him in invitation. "Well, come on then. Maybe you can find something better to watch."
He grinned in response, reaching out to take the remote from her hand. His fingers brushed against hers, and this time Emma could not deny - even to herself - the spark of electricity she felt at his touch. She couldn't look up at him, too afraid he'd read it in her face, so she kept her eyes on his arm. From her vantage point, she had an upclose view of the tattoo marking the inside of his forearm - a blood red heart scrolled across with the name 'Milah' and pierced through by an ornate dagger. Interesting. Liam had never mentioned a Milah.
Emma heard a soft hitch in Killian's breath, whether because she was staring at his tattoo or because her hand had as yet failed to actually release the remote control to him, she wasn't sure. Nonetheless, the sound reminded her fingers to pop open, and a second later, Killian was walking around the end of the couch to join her. Emma scooted over to the far right end and grabbed a throw pillow to clutch over her stomach as a physical reminder of the boundaries between the two of them.
For his part, Killian moved to sit a respectable distance away, but paused, bobbing his head to indicate her empty mug on the coffee table. "I see you've already indulged in your libation of choice. What's your poison, Swan? I'd be happy to fetch you another."
"Oh." Emma glanced down at the mug as if she'd never seen it before. "Right. No, it's just hot chocolate," she answered, but quickly added, "But you sit down. You're the guest here. I'll get it." Emma stood, letting the throw pillow in her lap fall to the floor. She snatched the mug off the table and turned toward the kitchen. "And is there anything I can get for y-"
Her words cut off as Killian gently grasped her wrist and tugged her back toward the couch. "Allow me, lass. I insist. It's the very least I can do in return for your kind hospitality this weekend."
Emma chuckled at that, raising an eyebrow at Killian as she cracked a wry smile. "Right. The kind of hospitality where I yell at you and ruin dinner?"
Killian grinned back, letting go of her wrist to take the mug from her other hand. "Aye. That kind. Though I'd hardly say dinner was completely ruined. Liam's attempts to humiliate me notwithstanding, I had quite an enjoyable evening tonight." He leaned closer and gave her a wink. "When you weren't yelling at me."
Emma scoffed and flopped herself back down on the couch, but she couldn't quite keep the smile off her face. Killian seemed to take this as an acquiescence, and headed toward the kitchen. She could hear him opening cabinets and the clank of ceramic on the granite countertop.
Craning her neck to peer over the back of the couch at him, Emma asked, "Need any help finding anything?"
"Oh, I'm quite familiar with Liam's organizational system. I'd be willing to wager - ah! There it is. Right next to the pop tarts. So at least some of what Liam told me about you appears to be accurate." Killian said the last line almost under his breath, but Emma heard him anyway.
She intended to let it go, but as she listened to Killian's continued puttering in the kitchen, her curiosity got the better of her. "And what exactly did he tell you about me?"
The sounds from the kitchen stopped as Killian apparently froze. She could just picture his hand finding its way behind his ear to scratch nervously. She straightened up to peek at him over the back of the couch again, and her suspicion was confirmed.
Killian set the kettle on the stove and clicked on the burner before finally meeting her eyes. "He said you were lovely, inside and out. Though I must say his description hardly did justice to the real thing."
Emma felt a flush of heat rush through her at his words, but she recognized a dodge when she heard one. "Uh huh. And that has what exactly to do with pop tarts?"
Killian pressed his lips together to suppress a grin and took a few steps closer to her, stopping to lean his elbow against the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. "Yes, well, the phrase 'dietary sophistication of a nine-year-old' may have come up a time or two."
Emma huffed in indignation. Oh, I'll show him a nine-year-old. She reached down to grab the throw pillow she'd dropped, then popped up again kneeling on the couch to brandishing the pillow menacingly. "Childish, am I?" she hissed.
After a split second of surprise, Killian narrowed his eyes dangerously and aimed waggled an accusing pointer finger at Emma. "Oh, bad form, Swan. Liam's the git who said that, not me. And you should never start a fight you can't finish." He moved closer to her and grabbed another pillow off the arm chair to the side of the couch, preparing to defend himself.
She raised an eyebrow and glared right back at him. Challenge accepted. "Back up there, buddy. Don't make me use this thing. You couldn't handle it." She stood from the couch, squaring her body to Killian's.
He took two more steps closer, now well into her personal space, his eyes locked on hers. Emma's pulse pounded in her ears, as his teeth drug over his lower lip before his features settled into a cocky smirk.
"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he practically growled.
Emma's breath caught, but before she could respond (either with her own snark or a quick blow to his head), the kettle began to whistle on the stove, making them both jump back, lowering their weapons sheepishly to their sides.
For a few moments, a strange look passed over Killian's face, if it had been anyone else in any other context, Emma would have thought it was desire, maybe even yearning, but she'd made the mistake once already of thinking that Killian wanted her that way. The darkening of his eyes was probably due to nothing more than annoyance at her for attempting to start something as juvenile as a pillow fight with a relative stranger.
He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, seeming to think better of it. He scrubbed his hand down his face and tried again. "I'll just get that then, shall I?"
Emma dropped her pillow back onto the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. "Truce?" she offered.
"Truce," he agreed, tossing his own pillow back onto the chair. "I'll just finish up in there, and be right out with our cocoa."
"With whip cream and cinnamon?" Emma asked with a wheedling grin.
"With whip cream and cinnamon." Killian returned her smile before turning back to the kitchen, shaking his head and chuckling as he went.
Emma resumed her spot on the couch, and picked up the remote, her heart still dancing a funny little jig in her chest. What was she doing threatening her fake boyfriend's brother with couch pillows? What kind of a grown-up does that? It was almost like she was trying to flirt with him, but doing it really, really badly. Geez, she needed to get herself together.
Just as she had almost decided to chug down her cocoa as quickly as possible and go straight back to bed, a loud snore resounded from her bedroom, reminding her why she'd snuck out here in the first place. She knew what she needed. Something equal parts distracting, engaging, and relaxing. Nothing worked like the Captain.
She clicked on the DVR, scanned down the list of titles to the one she wanted and pressed play. Killian joined her shortly thereafter, first settling the mugs onto the coffee table, then reaching behind Emma to yank the throw pillow out from behind her.
"Can't very well leave you armed now can I?" He gave her a cheeky grin and she hummed doubtfully in response. "So what are we watching?"
"Captain America." Emma answered, tucking a foot underneath her and resettling herself against the arm of the couch.
"Interesting choice. I thought the point of this exercise was to lull us back to drowsiness?"
She gave a small shrug. "This movie relaxes me."
That earned her a raised eyebrow from Killian. "You mean you just needed an excuse to stare a Chris Evans for a couple of hours?"
And that earned him a punch to the shoulder. "No!" When he continued to look at her askance, Emma shoved a stray piece of hair behind her ear and continued. "Okay, don't make fun of me for this, but battle and fight sequences make me sleepy."
"Hm. And why is that?"
"There's so much happening on-screen that it focuses your full attention. There's no room for my brain to think about anything else, so it kind of shuts up for a while. And since usually the reason I can't sleep is because my brain wouldn't shut up in the first place, well…" Emma shrugged, looking down to pick at a rough spot on the couch cushion.
"It just - it helps." she finished, raising her eyes back up to his.
Emma waited for the laugh or at the very least an eyeroll to be thrown her way, but to her surprise, Killian only smiled softly at her. "Makes sense to me, love," he answered. "I've been known to take certain measures to quiet my own thoughts from time to time. Yours is a bit healthier actually. I tend to use rum."
"So I've heard," Emma mumbled without thinking. Killian's face fell at her words and she immediately wished she could snatch them back. Dammit could somebody please get me a crowbar to pry my foot back out of my mouth?
A second later his expression had taken on a practiced nonchalance, his head canting to the side as he flicked his gaze down to the coffee table and back up to meet hers again. "So. What exactly did Liam tell you about me then? You seem to have had a few preconceived notions." His words were carefully measured, and Emma sensed in them no accusation, only curiosity tinted with a hint of sadness. "And you didn't appear to be put off by this." He raised the stump of his left arm briefly, before allowing it to fall back into its inconspicuous position at his side.
Emma nodded, choosing to answer the second question first. "Liam did tell me about your hand. No details, really, just that you'd lost it in a car accident. Everything else is just little pieces here and there that I put together. He said you travel a lot - I think the words he used were 'galavanting all over the world'. That you've got a girl in every port. And that you think rum and women are the solution to your problems."
"Whereas he firmly believes that the solution to everything is brooding and self-righteous stubbornness. No wonder you fancy Liam, Emma, he must remind you of your Captain Rogers." Killian grumbled, gesturing vaguely to the television.
Emma laughed. "Hey! If you're going to insult your brother AND my favorite super hero, you can get off my couch!" Emma paused, pursing her lips and tapping a finger against her chin feigning serious thoughts. "But, I suppose you're not completely wrong. About either of them." She gave Killian a small smile, which, after a bit of a dramatic sigh on his part, he returned.
"Sorry. He's not completely wrong about me either, though I haven't a lass in every port. There's, ah…" he paused, his hand reaching to rub at the back of his neck. "There's no one waiting at home for me. Or waiting anywhere else in the world, for that matter."
And there he goes LOOKING at me again , Emma thought. For a moment his eyes held something she couldn't quite name, but that felt deeply familiar. It was a look that spoke of loss, of loneliness. She knew she shouldn't, but as the moment stretched between them, she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Who's Milah?"
"What?" Killian leaned back, instinctively pulling his arm close to his body to cover the tattoo.
"I- sorry, I noticed it earlier. The tattoo I mean." Emma answered quietly.
"Someone from long ago," Killian answered, his voice dark and rough. He turned away from her, looking for all the world as if he were suddenly engrossed in the movie they'd both been ignoring.
"That car accident. It took more than your hand, didn't it?" She spoke the words as a statement, already knowing the answer.
"Aye," he answered simply, then forced himself to look at her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But my tales of woe are hardly proper bedtime stories."
Emma nodded in response. On instinct she moved closer to him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, feeling the need to offer him some measure of comfort. "For what it's worth," she began hesitantly, "I know what it's like to lose someone."
His smile broadened, a genuine one this time, and a little gleam of wickedness flickered in his eyes. "Why Swan, are you trying to bond with me?" He leaned in, nudging her in the ribs with his elbow.
Emma dropped her hand from his shoulder, rolling her eyes at him for his sarcasm, but she didn't move back to her end of the couch, and neither did he. A strange sense of camaraderie fell over the two of them, the comfort of kindred spirits. Killian picked up the remote as Emma picked up her now cooled mug of cocoa, and they settled back into the couch cushions. Not quite touching, but no longer intentionally not touching.
"What say we watch the good Captain punch some Nazis, eh?" Killian asked, clicking up the volume a notch as Emma smiled her agreement at him over the top of her mug.
The last thing she remembered that night was the sound of battle blaring from the TV screen and the feeling of something solid and warm beneath her cheek.
Killian awoke in the grey light of dawn with a crick in his neck, a mouth full of hair and an angel in his arms. An angel who was (rather adorably) drooling on his shirt. He knew he should move. He should've moved last night when Emma had toppled over onto him, falling asleep exactly as she'd predicted right in the middle of the movie's climactic battle sequence. But then, as now, she'd looked so peaceful, that he couldn't quite bring himself to disturb her.
It was an innocent embrace, after all. Nothing to feel guilty about. They were friends, albeit new ones. He quite liked her actually. As much as he'd teased her about it last night, he did feel as though they had bonded somehow. So friends then. Mates. Chums. Totally innocent. It wasn't as though she could be harboring anything but platonic feelings for him. She'd made her faithfulness to Liam quite clear at dinner.
When she'd nuzzled deeper into his chest in her sleep, her arm tightening around his waist and a sound strangely like a purr of contentment in her throat, she simply must've been dreaming of Liam. The thought triggered an uncomfortable roiling through his gut, and with one last bit of reluctance, Killian finally decided that he must try to slip out from under the sleeping Swan before the growls of his stomach woke her. Coffee. Coffee and breakfast, that's what was needed. Besides, innocent or not, it would be best perhaps if she didn't awake in his arms. They'd only just recovered from the rough start they'd had the previous day. No sense in beginning a new day with fresh awkwardness.
As gently as he could, Killian eased himself out from under her, lowering her head onto a small cushion. The very cushion, in fact, that she'd threatened him with just a few hours ago. The memory brought a grin to his face. Liam was a lucky man indeed. To find a woman not only beautiful, but intelligent. Fierce, yet still playful. Strong, yet with an underlying tenderness to her, something he felt honored to have been allowed to see, if only for a second.
When she'd spoken to him of knowing the pain of loss, he could see the truth of it in her eyes. There had been no pity there, only empathy and compassion. He appreciated it, more than words could say, but their tentative friendship wasn't ready yet to handle the full weight of his past (nor hers, he suspected). So, he'd teased her to lighten the mood again, and it had seemed a successful ploy.
There would be plenty of time to get to know her better and she him. For the first time in a long while, he actually wanted someone to know him. Yes, plenty of time. For surely, Liam wouldn't be such a fool as to let a woman like Emma get away. The snarling of his innards intensified as he stepped into the small kitchen. Food. Right. Must grab a bite to eat.
His body moved on autopilot as he turned on the coffee pot and grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry, pausing a moment as his eyes passed over the pop tarts. No, Liam would have the good sense to treat Emma well. He was happy for them. Happy for Liam. Setting the cereal box on the counter, he jerked open the cupboard and retrieved a bowl. Happy that Liam had Emma to be there for him, to talk with him, to wrap him in her softness and warmth and - Oh, bloody fucking hell.
The empty bowl slipped from his hand, clattering loudly against the countertop. Never. Not once in his life had he ever been jealous of his brother. He'd always admired Liam, for years had tried to be just like him until Killian had finally realized that he'd never quite measure up to the high standard his brother had set and gone on his own way. But he'd never been jealous of Liam, not until-
"Wha time 'sit?" Emma mumbled sleepily.
Killian whipped his head around to see a sleep rumpled Emma stretch an arm over her head, her back arched so as to push the swell of her chest forward tantalizingly. He turned away just as quickly, blinking his eyes to try to clear the image from his mind. "Just past seven, love. Sorry for the noise. I seem to be a bloody butterfingers when I've not had my coffee."
Emma muttered something under her breath that sounded like 'at least it's not power tools,' and soon he heard the quiet padding of feet coming up behind him. Killian resumed fixing himself a bowl of cereal, taking pains not to look at Emma directly - half awake as she was, there was still the risk of her seeing through to his inner turmoil - but in his periphery he watched her pull down a pair of mugs before commencing an impatient vigil next to the still-brewing coffee pot.
"So what do you 'grown-ups' eat for breakfast? Because this nine-year-old is ready for her pop tart," Emma said, and Killian couldn't help but snort a laugh in response. "Sorry I fell asleep on the movie."
Does she know she fell asleep on more than just the movie? Killian turned, cautiously meeting her eyes. "No worries, lass, you did warn me. I'm just glad you finally got some rest." The creaking of a door drew their attention, and Liam trudged into the living room, scratching wearily at his mop of curly hair. "Speaking of rest, here comes sleeping beauty himself." Turning to Liam, Killian called out, "Oi, you lout! It's ten minutes past sunrise already! Has domestic life made you soft?"
"Shut it, brother," Liam grumbled, fetching a mug before taking his place next to Emma at the coffee pot. "It's bad enough I have to go into work on a Saturday. I'll not have any of your cheek this early in the morning. I didn't sleep worth a damn anyway."
And likely because I was greedily snuggled up to your lass. Killian felt a tightness beneath his breastbone as a pang of shame sliced through him.
"Well, you could've fooled us. You were snoring like a buzz saw," Emma teased, bumping Liam playfully with her hip.
Killian picked up his bowl and moved to sit at the table. The simple display of affection had sent a wave of emotion rioting through him. He'd known Liam had to work that morning. His brother had told him as much yesterday, but that was before. Before he'd met Emma. Before he knew she belonged to Liam. Before he'd discovered what a remarkable woman she was, learned how her body molded perfectly to his. Before he'd begun to wish with every fiber of his being that HE had been the one to meet her first. Not that it would've mattered, in the end. Emma would've met Liam eventually, and he doubted he could compete with his older brother even with a temporal advantage.
Wonderful. Longing, jealousy AND self-flagellation. How was he supposed to spend the entire morning alone with her without making an utter arse of himself?
He was distracted from his dark musings by a ringing phone, and looked up in time to see Emma dash to her room. Killian watched her lithe form disappear through her bedroom door, his thoughts beginning to stray again, only to be snapped back to the present by the sound of Liam clearing his throat. A steaming mug of black coffee had been placed in front of him, and Liam was now seated across from him, making Killian suddenly self conscious of how long he must have been staring off into space (staring after her ).
"So. What do you think of my girl, then?" Liam asked, a strangely guarded look on his face.
"She's bloody brilliant, Liam," Killian answered honestly, then allowed himself a bit of a smirk. "Far too good for a wanker like you."
One corner of Liam's mouth quirked up at that. "And are the two of you getting on any better now?"
Killian fought against the flush that was slowly creeping up the back of his neck. "Oh, aye. We've patched it up." He bobbed his head in the direction of Emma's room. "Thick as thieves now, us." He gave Liam a small smile, then took a long sip of his coffee.
"Right," Liam answered. "Then I trust the two of you can entertain each other for a bit. I'll get the mess sorted down at the harbour as quick as I can, then maybe we should all meet up for lunch at Granny's."
"Unfortunately he's gonna have to entertain himself this morning." Emma's voice rang out from across the room. "That was work," she continued, holding up her cell phone. "We have a lead on one of my skips, so I'm on stake out duty all day."
At the pronouncement, Killian's shoulders sagged, and he chose not to dwell on whether it was from relief or disappointment. Liam stood and walked back to the kitchen, meeting Emma at the coffee pot and pouring her a cup which she accepted it with a grateful smile.
"Thanks, babe," she said, kissing her fingertips before patting Liam's cheek. "I better go get in the shower."
Killian looked away as his insides twisted once again. He heard her retreating footsteps as Liam called out for her to ring him up if she could still make it home for dinner.
"I'd best be putting my kit on as well," Liam added dropping back down into the seat across from Killian. "Mind if I have first go at the shower in the guest bath? I don't want to get in Emma's way if she's in a hurry."
Killian nodded, and Liam rose from the chair, taking his coffee with him, and giving Killian a fraternal slap on the shoulder as he passed. Liam ducked into the bedroom that Killian should have slept in the night before to retrieve a change of clothes, then disappeared into the guest bathroom.
Killian finished his breakfast in solitude, trying to think of absolutely anything that wasn't Emma and his brother, and above all else forcing away the image of Emma's graceful form glistening wet under the steamy shower spray. Football, sailing, the export agreement he had to negotiate in London next week. Nothing held his attention for long. Eventually, Emma and Liam emerged, poured themselves each a travel mug full of coffee for the road and bid him adieu, leaving him with profuse apologies and a spare key to the apartment.
Once he was well and truly alone, the introspection began. For the first hour, Killian thought of nothing but Emma, unable to resist indulging himself for a while. Oh, she was a tough lass. And clever. She'd put his sorry arse right in his place straight away, even if he had only slightly deserved it. He could hardly be blamed for kissing her hand when he didn't know she was Liam's lass. She was a bloody vision in a red coat and he had been powerless to resist the urge to touch her. Besides, at that moment, Liam seemed to have some kind of connection to Tink, the hostess. How was he to know Emma was off limits?
But after that, well… Perhaps he'd leaned in closer than necessary to help her off with her coat. He'd told himself he was only trying to identify her perfume, something light and fresh and powdery. And perhapshe could've been more careful after the first time he brushed her calf with his foot. He hadn't been trying to do it, but he hadn't been trying very hard not to either. The little rush of warmth that tiny bit of contact sent through him was interesting to say the least, now that he's being honest with himself. A traitorous part of him wondered if she'd been at all affected as well. Oh, she'd felt something alright. And that something had proven to be white hot rage. Gods, he's a bloody idiot.
Then they'd talked, all three of them back at the apartment, and things had seemed to improve. She'd seemed genuinely interested in hearing about his travels, and maybe he'd embellished a few tales, just to see her smile widen, the flash of her eyes. Perhaps it should've been a clue to him, how a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he'd fancy taking her himself to see the sights he described, if only to see the world anew again through her eyes.
Killian sighed to himself. Even if the whole world were his to give, she wasn't his to give it to.
His frustration propelled him off the couch and toward his suitcase. He needed to get out of this bloody apartment for a while, and that would necessitate a shower and proper clothes. He fetched his toiletries and headed to the bathroom to set about the mundane business of readying himself to face the world.
He showered as quickly as possible, never allowing his mind to wander down dangerous paths. As he stood before the mirror, the familiar routine of brushing his teeth, trimming his stubble, drying and artfully mussing his hair gave him something harmless to focus on. Dark shirt, black jeans, and he felt almost like himself again.
That is, until one last check of the mirror reminded him that he hadn't applied his customary kohl around his eyes. He hesitated for only a second, and in that second his mind wondered if Emma would find him handsomer with or without it. From that one thought his spiral of shame began again.
He grabbed his jacket, phone, and the spare key Liam had left him and exited the apartment, hardly caring where he was going. He reached the street, picked a direction and started walking, letting his thoughts run their course.
All he had hoped for months was that Liam would find himself some happiness. He knew his brother wasn't one for drinking and carousing, but he also knew that, if left to his own devices, Liam would never put himself back out there to meet anyone. So, Killian had drug him to pub after pub, playing the wingman, pouring the rum, introducing his brother to woman after woman in the hopes that maybe, just maybe one would spark his interest. All the while, Liam had never needed to put himself out there. The perfect lass was already waiting for him at home.
Killian had meant well. He had tried to do right by his brother, to be there for Liam the way Liam had been there for him after that car wreck had taken his hand and his Milah - a small piece of his body and a large piece of his soul. Killian didn't know how he would've survived those months ( years really) following the accident if it hadn't been for his brother's unwavering support. It didn't matter that Liam had never approved of Milah, of Killian's involvement with a married woman. The Brothers Jones took care of each other.
Thus when Liam's heart had been broken cruelly, Killian had tried to repay the favor in the only ways he knew how. But, Liam hadn't needed him. Had done bloody brilliantly on his own, in fact. Liam was happy, or at least he seemed that way. He had found exactly what Killian had hoped he would. So, what kind of brother - what kind of man - did it make Killian if he couldn't share his brother's happiness?
The irony of it all was that Emma had made him feel better , or rather like he could be better, wanted to be better. Like he might actually be worth someone's while. And for all that, he now felt like an absolute rotter. A jealous bloody fool.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he was unsurprised to see Liam's name on the caller I.D. It had been a couple of hours now, and Liam was likely back home wondering where the devil Killian had wandered off to. He picked up the call with a terse, 'hullo.'
Liam answered, his voice gruff and rushed. "Brother, it's a bigger mess down here than I expected. Someone's cocked up the whole schedule, we've got supplies missing and - well, I'll spare you the details, but I'll be here a few more hours. Are you bored to tears with our quiet hamlet yet?"
Killian huffed a laugh. Of all the things plaguing him at the moment, boredom was not one. "I'll be fine. I've just popped out for a bit of a walk. Showing myself the sights, as it were."
"Very well," Liam replied. "I am sorry about this, brother. We've barely had a chance to speak alone since you've arrived."
"Think nothing of it. I'll see you later this afternoon, I suppose."
After saying their goodbyes, Killian resumed his ambling, losing track of the time. He wandered past storefronts, then houses, and finally as he reached what seemed to be the edge of the little town, it occurred to him that perhaps it would be a fine plan to get take-out from the diner he'd passed near the beginning of his walk and bring it down to the harbor to surprise Liam with lunch. His brother surely would need a lunch break after all, and Killian was interested to see the workings of the small seaport anyway. He checked the clock on his phone, and as suspected it was indeed nearly lunch time. He quickened his steps back to the main commercial area.
A curious sight met his eyes, however, as he reached the diner. Through the large glass windows he could see Liam in the far corner smiling broadly at a blonde lass sitting across from him. The woman's face was turned away from Killian, and yet it must be Emma. Obviously they'd decided to meet for lunch without him, and on top of that Liam had lied to him about it.
He felt an almost painful tightness in his chest, but before any thoughts could form as to why they would have done that, the woman turned her head, and Killian recognized not Emma's face, but Tink's. Killian stopped in his tracks, attempting as best he could to stay out of sight, but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene.
Tink was smiling at Liam, her lips forming words that Killian could not hear. Her hands slid tentatively across the table, and Liam grinned even wider, clasping one of her hands in his before raising it to his lips. Then the pair of them stood from their booth, their fingers interlacing again as soon as they were close enough, and Tink raised up on her toes, resting her free hand on Liam's chest as she pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth.
Killian could watch no more of this. He ducked into the alley next to the building so as not to run into the guilty pair as they departed from their rendezvous, his wide-eyed shock quickly turning into jaw-clenching anger. This was Liam, the man who had practically raised him. Who had beat into him the value of good form. Who would've boxed his ears for even thinking of two-timing a woman. And this was not just any woman.
Liam was cheating on Emma!