It was late afternoon before Liam finally made it back home from the docks. He opened the front door to find two duffel bags prepped and waiting in the entryway and Emma seated at the kitchen table, a tense set to her shoulders and a seemingly forgotten mug of coffee in front of her. Obviously lost in thought, she startled a bit at the sound of the door shutting behind him, but as her eyes refocused on him her 'game face' as she called it fell into place.
"You ready?" she asked, already standing and striding toward where Liam still stood by the door.
Liam picked up his keys from where he'd dropped them onto a side table, and cracked his neck. "As I'll ever be, I suppose. Do we have a plan?"
Emma pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head. "Nope. You see how well our last plan went. Besides, we've got over two hours in the car to figure something out."
The lass had a point. Still, Liam glanced down at the duffels and back up at Emma with a raised eyebrow. "And yet you bothered to pack? For both of us?"
"Just trying to be prepared." Emma shouldered her bag with a small grunt. "Besides, I already had this one in my car from today's stakeout. Now grab yours and let's go. You're driving."
Liam stopped half bent over, his hand hovering above the shoulder strap of his bag, and looked up at her in surprise. Emma rarely let anyone else drive.
She scowled back at him. "Unless you want to spend the next two hours folded up in a car with a barely functional heater and that shakes when it goes over 55 mph?"
"Point taken." Liam cracked a small smile at her which broadened as she rolled her eyes back at him. He then snatched up his bag, and the pair of them left without further adieu.
Despite Emma's declaration that they had plenty of time to work out a plan whilst on the road, the two of them barely spoke at all, each consumed by their own musings. Liam could hardly have even said what radio station was playing in the background. It was all just white noise to him.
Finally, as the sky began to darken and the Boston skyline came into view, Liam gave voice to the dominant thought he'd been toying with most of the trip.
"Emma, I think I should talk to Killian first. Alone."
He kept his eyes trained on the road, but in his periphery he saw her sit up straighter in her seat, her head snapping around to look at him. He waited for the protest he knew would be coming.
"What? Liam, no. This whole stupid thing was my idea to begin with, and I'm not gonna let you-"
"Yes. You are." He turned his head long enough to give her his best 'big brother' glare, and she glared right back, crossing her arms defiantly. "I deserve to take the blame for this. All you did was offer to help a friend in need. I'm the one who was too much of a bloody coward to simply talk to his own little brother."
"I owe him an apology, too, Jones."
"For snogging him?" Liam teased, waggling his eyebrows.
Emma punched him in the shoulder.
"Oy! Don't assault the driver." He heard her frustrated huff, and continued on in a more serious tone. "Aye, I know you do, Swan. But think of it this way - under the circumstances as he believes them to be, the two of us showing up together is odd enough in and of itself, not to mention that having to deal with both of us at once could make him feel cornered or attacked. This is going to be a difficult conversation as it is without immediately putting Killian on the defensive. Let me bear the brunt of this, and you can make your apologies after."
Emma sighed heavily. "Okay. I don't like it, but I get it." Liam's eye caught the movement of her hand as she shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. "So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait in the truck?"
Liam shrugged. "It's that or the stairwell, though the latter is quite drafty."
Emma gave a noncommittal "hmph" in response, and the two lapsed into silence again.
After working their way through the congested city streets, Liam pulled up in front of Killian's building, thankful to whatever deity is in charge of such things that he found a parking space big enough to parallel park his pickup. He dug a handful of change out of his center console, before getting out and feeding the parking meter. He heard the whirring of a window being rolled down and looked back over at the truck just before Emma's voice rang out.
"Liam!"
He walked back over to stand by the opened window and leaned his head in. "What is it, Swan?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever words she intended to say to him seemed to die on her tongue. Instead she offered him a wan smile and a shrug, finally replying with a simple, "Good luck."
He nodded his silent thanks, and pulled back, tapping the flat of his hand twice beneath the window in a gesture he hoped conveyed 'I've got this ', then turned to go and face the music.
It occurred to Liam as he knocked on the door that he didn't actually even know if his little brother was home. As he'd said to Emma earlier, this wasn't something to be dealt with over the phone, so he hadn't called to warn Killian of his arrival, nor had he the presence of mind to check the building's resident garage for Killian's mustang.
As such, he felt contradictory waves of both relief and anxiety when his knock was met with a snarling, "Who is it?" He didn't respond, waiting instead with foreboding for the clank of the deadbolt and creak of hinges. To say that Killian was surprised to see him on his doorstep would be quite the understatement.
Killian's eyes sprang wide, the red slash of blood vessels clearly visible against the whites under the bright hallway lighting. "Liam? What are you doing here?" he asked, his rum-roughened voice a mixture of confusion and wariness.
Liam looked past Killian into the apartment, taking in the partially filled glass and open rum bottle on the coffee table. From the looks of it, Killian had only just started his second glass. Not ideal, but it could've been worse. Liam's heart twisted with regret that he was the cause of his brother's pain. Damn it, all he'd done for the better part of his life was try to care for Killian, be strong, be a good example. To do all the things their father hadn't done. Now look at the bloody mess he'd made.
"We need to talk, brother. May I come in?"
Killian's shoulders slumped, his gaze falling to the floor. "Aye, I suppose we do." He stepped aside to grant Liam access to the apartment. "Best get on with it then."
Liam walked past him, not turning around to face him until he'd reached the middle of the living room. "First off, whatever it is you think this is about, I can assure you it's not what it seems. I owe you an apology, Killian."
Killian shut the door and walked slowly and deliberately over to the coffee table. He picked up his glass and took a swig, closing his eyes for a moment and seeming to consider his words before responding. "What I think is that I went to Granny's this very morning to pick up lunch for you and I, only to see you - bold as brass - kissing another woman right in front of the damn window. The person you should be apologizing to is Emma. Not me."
Killian set the glass down again, then straightened, finally meeting Liam's eyes. "Liam, please tell me there's another explanation for this," Killian growled, his temper starting to get the better of him. "How could you do it? To hell with good form, how could you bloody do that to Emma? I was right, what I said this morning. She is far too good for a cheating bastard like you."
Says the wanker who kissed this cheating bastard's girlfriend! Or sort of fake girlfriend… Liam thought. His hackles rose at Killian's accusatory tone, but he forced himself to bite back his knee-jerk response. He sank slowly onto the loveseat cursing under his breath and running a hand roughly through his hair. "There is an explanation," Liam answered, his voice dull and weary. "Though I'm afraid you shan't like it much better."
"I'm all ears, brother," Killian rasped, maintaining his rigid stance.
Liam closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Cards on the table, Jones. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and opened his eyes to meet Killian's glare. "Emma and I are not and have never been a couple. She agreed to pretend to be my girlfriend only for the purpose of your visit this weekend."
Killian furrowed his brow. "I don't understand," he replied, confusion seeping into his voice to replace the anger of a moment ago.
"Sit down," Liam gestured to the other couch. When Killian didn't move, he added more forcefully, " Please. "
Killian drew back in suspicion, but did as Liam asked. Once Killian was seated, Liam leaned back in his seat, scrubbing a hand down his face before crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Gods, why was this so hard?
"I'm not cheating on Emma, because Emma and I were never together."
Killian shook his head, exasperation marring his features. "Then why the devil did you tell me that you were?"
Liam pressed his lips together. Perhaps if he said it all quickly, it wouldn't hurt as much. "When Ariel left me, my heart was shattered. I know that I was taking my time getting past that, but you better than anyone should know that you can't rush these things. I know you were only trying to help, but I just couldn't bear another weekend on the pull. Boozing it up. I wasn't ready for that. I-" Liam paused, biting the inside of his cheek as the old ache gnawed at him again. So much for quick and clean . "I still saw her I face everywhere," he finished quietly.
Liam's words seemed to strike a chord in Killian. His expression softened and for a few seconds Liam could practically see the ghosts of the past dancing through his brother's eyes.
Yet, the momentary understanding was rapidly replaced by another flare of anger. "That still doesn't explain this whole bloody charade."
Liam exhaled sharply through his nose, his own frustration building. "We-" he stopped and corrected himself. "I. I thought if you believed I'd found a nice lass, you'd give it a rest. Give me a sodding break for a while."
"So this is all my fault then, is it?" Killian raised his voice, gesturing wildly. "That's a bit rich."
For fuck's sake, I'm trying to explain and apologize here. Must we really break out the theatrics? Liam stood, his expression taking on a hard edge. "I'm sorry, Killian. But I didn't feel I had any other choice."
Springing up from the couch, Killian squared his body to Liam's and jabbed an accusing finger into his chest. "You lied. To me ."
The words came out in a veritable snarl, but Liam could see the hurt - no it was deeper than that - the near devastation in Killian's eyes. His entire being practically vibrated with it. This was Liam's baby brother. The one he swore to protect. The one he bloody well came here to apologize to, and what the hell was he doing but being a prideful arse and trying to justify himself! I must have more of dear old dad in me than I knew, he thought with a shudder.
Shame flooded through Liam, washing away his stubborn posturing and he dropped his eyes, his shoulders sinking in defeat. "I was wrong, brother. I made a mistake. I never should have-"
Killian cut him off with a gesture, blinking at him in disbelief for a second. "No. You shouldn't have." His voice sounded hollow and foreign. "You should've talked to me. You should've trusted me."
Killian turned aside and took one more sip of his rum, then without another word, he strode toward the front door and yanked it opened. Refusing to look at Liam, Killian simply bobbed his head in the direction of the hallway. "Get out."
The eerie calm in his voice sent a chill down Liam's spine. He moved quickly to Killian's side, gripping his shoulder to force his brother to look him in the eye. "Killian, I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I am so very sorry, brother."
Killian eyed Liam's hand on his shoulder derisively, until Liam released him, and Liam's entreating gaze was met with nothing but a cold stare. "Fine. If you won't leave then I will."
He began to walk away, but Liam called after him. "Killian, wait! We need to talk about this!"
Killian stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face Liam with narrowed eyes and a sardonic tilt to his head. "You know, brother," he sneered, "I believe I'm going to need you to give me a sodding break for a while."
Emma checked the time on her phone again. Liam hadn't been gone that long, but she was going stir crazy just sitting there waiting. Her stomach rumbled audibly. It was well past dinner time and she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. She noticed a small convenience store just up the block, and decided to get out of the truck for a few minutes to stretch her legs and appease her hunger.
Besides, strolling down the aisle of brightly packaged snack food and debating the merits of sugary versus salty was a whole lot more appealing than spending another minute fretting over how the conversation upstairs might be progressing. Though she'd understood and (begrudgingly) accepted Liam's position on the subject, she still felt like she ought to be there to take her fair share of the blame. She wasn't ashamed for trying to help Liam, but now that she knew Killian better ( now that I know what he tastes like - God, what's wrong with me? ), lying to him felt… Ugh, she didn't know what she thought or felt about anything anymore.
It had started out as such a good day. She'd caught her skip, and landed herself a healthy payday in the process. How had it all gone to hell? Oh, yeah. Right. Kissed my roommate-slash-fake-boyfriend's brother. That was it. She shook herself. Stop thinking about the kiss.
Settling on sugar, she selected a chocolate bar, paid the clerk, and left the shop. Shivering in the cold night air, she flipped up the collar of her jacket and started back down the sidewalk to Liam's truck. She was just about to pull open the driver's side door when the clatter of a heavy door slamming shut caught her attention. She turned around just in time to see Killian Jones striding away in the opposite direction from where she'd just come.
"Jones!" She called out to him, and he must've heard her. Even from half a block away she saw him pause, his hand clenching into a fist at his side, his head tilting skyward in what appeared to be a silent plea to the heavens for patience.
"Are you leaving?" she asked, immediately cursing herself for the obviousness of the question, not to mention how small her voice had sounded. What the hell, Emma. He can leave if he wants to. No need to sound like a disappointed five year old.
He turned his face just enough to meet her eyes, and jerked his head in a beckoning manner. Emma took it as her cue. As she walked toward him, he moved to take up a rakish pose leaning against the wrought iron fence lining the building's small garden. Legs crossed at the ankle, hand hitched on belt buckle, generic smirk firmly in place. They may not have known each other long, but Emma could certainly recognize a defensive posture when she saw one. This image he projected of practiced calm arrogance might as well have been a stone wall.
As she reached him, he crossed his arms over his chest, raising his chin with a touch of defiance. Make that a castle keep, with some of those turret things. Emma furrowed her brow.
"Where are you going?" she asked in a quiet but firm tone, jutting her own chin just as stubbornly.
Killian looked away as if showing her the direction of his intended travels with his eyes. "Down to the pub." He turned back to her with a pale imitation of a smile. "I've every intention of having a pint or two, then coming home to my empty apartment to get a bit of shut eye."
His implication couldn't have been clearer. He wanted them gone. "I take it Liam told you."
Killian looked away once more, and Emma watched the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard. "Aye, that he did."
"And clearly that went well," she deadpanned.
That seemed to get his attention. He cut his eyes back to her sharply, all pretense of composure gone. "I don't wish to discuss my relationship with my brother with someone I hardly know."
He flung the words at her harshly, and Emma felt it like a slap to the face, flinching despite her own attempts to remain impassive. He was right. They didn't know each other. Not really. One night, one heart-to-heart didn't make them friends. A few kind words, one kiss ( one stupid, perfect, amazing kiss ) didn't make them lovers. It didn't make them anything. Because he left. Both times, he left.
Maybe she had fallen asleep on the movie and slumped unknowingly over onto Killian's shoulder. And maybe she also woke up just a little bit when he'd clicked off the television. Maybe it felt so good to be in his arms, that she just sort of milked the whole sleep-snuggling thing a little bit. He hadn't seemed to mind at the time. She thought - hoped - he had even reciprocated. A slight tightening of his hand on her shoulder? A brush of his lips against her hair? Things she should've been annoyed about for Liam's sake, if it hadn't felt so safe . So right.
But then she'd woken up alone. Whatever intimacy she thought had sparked between them must've just been her own sleep deprived imagination.
And maybe he'd said some nice things to her. Things no one had ever said to her before. So, she'd kissed him. She kissed him. Not the other way around. And even if he kissed her back, what did it matter? He pulled away. He left. He thought it was a mistake.
And now here he was, confirming all of that for her.
He studied her face, probably having seen her flinch, but even as she steeled her own expression, his softened. Emma couldn't let herself focus on that, though. There was no point in distracting herself with false hope, when the real problem at hand had nothing to do with her own feelings. There was no 'her and Killian' - nothing to fix there - but, she'd helped make a god awful mess between Killian and Liam. She needed to say something - anything - to at least try to fix that.
Emma took a deep breath. "Here's the thing. You're right. I don't know you, and I don't know what happened in there, but I do know this. Liam loves you . More than anything."
Killian barked a mirthless laugh. "Well, he's got a bloody odd way of showing it!"
For a second, his mask completely dropped, letting Emma see the depth of genuine hurt in his eyes. Before she could think better of it, she was reaching out to him, lightly curling her fingers around his elbow. "Killian, I-"
"Swan, it's late," he said gently, not rejecting her touch, but not acknowledging it either. "You and Liam had best be getting on the road. Don't want you to fall asleep at the wheel." His lips twisted up into a half smile, but his eyes still held a certain melancholy and a hint of that something else she didn't know how to describe.
At the mention of sleep Emma's mind flashed back to the comfort of Killian's embrace, the way they seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. Instinctively, she moved closer to him. "I know," she replied, quirking up one corner of her mouth. "I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I lied to you." Emma shrugged and shook her head sadly. "You know, for what it's worth."
Killian closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "Think nothing of it." When he opened them again, all Emma could see in his expression was a bone-deep exhaustion. "I was right about one thing," he continued. "Liam is a lucky bastard to have you - for a friend. "
He pushed himself off the fence, and Emma stepped back, embarrassed at how close she'd allowed herself to get. He turned away from her to resume his trek down the sidewalk, but before he'd gone two steps, he paused, angling his head just enough to speak to her over his shoulder. "I'm glad there's at least one person in his life that he trusts enough to confide in."
The break in his voice nearly did her in. "Killian, no-"
"Tell Liam to lock up on his way out," he murmured with an air of finality and stalked away into the night.
He needed time. Space. Emma got that. God only knew she couldn't fault anyone for wanting to run away from a problem that hit a little too close to an emotional sore spot. Didn't make it hurt any less as Emma watched him walk away without so much as a backwards glance in her direction. But, at this point in her life she was pretty adept at slapping a band-aid over the "everyone walks away from me" bruise and getting on with things.
She made the executive decision that she'd done as much waiting around as she could stand for one day, so rather than go back to the truck, she trudged up the stairs to Killian's apartment. The door was unlocked, as she had figured it would be. Under other circumstances she might have taken a moment to look around, examine the decor, and get a feel for his living space, but she already felt like an intruder. She didn't want to add 'creeper' to the mix. She just needed to grab Liam so they could drag themselves back to Storybrooke with their tails between their legs.
A quick glance revealed Liam at the kitchen table, pencil in hand and scribbling something on a battered, pocket-sized notepad. Oh, Jones. You know he's not coming back until he's sure we're gone.
"So, I saw Killian on his way out."
Liam paused his sketching, but didn't look up. "Oh, aye? What did he say?" he asked, the calm tone of his voice belying the obvious tension in his neck and shoulders. Emma shut the door behind her and walked over to stand behind his chair.
"Not much." Emma leaned over Liam's shoulder and could make out a drawing of what appeared to be a bookshelf, with little notations underneath that must've been a supply list. "But I got the distinct impression that things didn't go so hot." She moved to sit down in the adjacent chair, cocking an eyebrow at Liam expectantly when he finally raised his eyes from the page.
"You could say that."
Emma pursed her lips and nodded once. God save me from brooding Joneses. "Let me guess. You both got stubborn and defensive and it all went downhill from there?"
Liam set the pencil down and tapped the side of his nose with one finger. "In one. Give the lady a prize."
Emma reached up to swat the back of his head and plopped herself back down in her chair resting her elbow on the table, chin in hand. "So what are you gonna do?"
Liam squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slowly before opening them again. "I don't know. He'll be out of the country for most of this week. He hardly answers my calls when he's traveling when we're on good terms. I doubt he'd speak to me now."
They fell into silence for a few seconds each staring at nothing in particular. Emma drummed her fingers restlessly on the table top and had opened her mouth to suggest they head home, when Liam huffed a laugh.
She glanced over at him, perplexed. "What?"
"For what it's worth, he was almighty outraged on your behalf," Liam answered with a sly grin.
Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes even as her pulse began to flutter. "You Jones boys and your good form."
Liam smirked. "Oh, no. Don't sell yourself short, love. This was more than that. He went right off on me. Called me a cheating bastard and told me you were far too good for me. Seemed he couldn't quite believe it was possible for a man to want another lass if they had you."
Emma felt heat rising in her cheeks and the rapidly accelerating beat of her heart. She tried to hide it, turning away and feigning annoyance at Liam's antics, but to no avail. There was something she had to know, and she'd just have to come right out and ask it.
"Did he…" she looked up at the ceiling and tilted her head slightly from side to side, annoyed at herself for how silly she was acting. "Did he mention the kiss?"
"No, he didn't," Liam answered gently. "To be honest, I think in the moment he was much more concerned with being furious at me than anything else. There was quite a bit for him to process. But I wouldn't fret about it, Swan." Liam scooted his chair closer to her, nudging her in the ribs until she turned back to face him. "I think he quite fancies you," he concluded in a stage whisper.
"What are you, twelve? " Emma grumbled, earning her a snicker from Liam in response. "Come on. Let's get outta here."
She pushed her chair out from the table, and started toward the front door. She couldn't deal with this. She couldn't deal with fraternal drama, Liam's obviously misguided taunting, and the stress built up over hours on a stakeout, hours on the road, plus what had felt like hours just twiddling her thumbs in the truck. Not to mention she had a stack of new case files waiting for her on her desk come Monday, and…Hang on.
Emma stopped in the middle of the living room, turning back to Liam with narrowed eyes. "When does Killian get back from London?"
"Next Saturday," he replied warily. "Why?"
"Jones, I think I have an idea."
Killian awoke the following Saturday to a darkening apartment. Apparently the nearly eight-hour flight and five-hour time difference had hit him harder than he expected and his plan to simply close his eyes for a few minutes had devolved into an extended slumber. Bollocks. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight. Not that he'd done much sleeping all week.
To Liam's credit, his brother had only called him once during his week away in London. Killian hadn't answered. He was sure Liam didn't really expect him to from the contrite-yet-resigned tone of the voicemail left. Killian was grateful that Liam wasn't pushing, that he was trying to give him the space he needed, but at the same time not giving up.
What was it Liam was always saying to him when he was a lad? A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. It seemed that what Liam wanted was to apologize and make peace between the two of them, but Killian wasn't sure that he was quite ready to hear it. Not yet.
What Killian wanted right at this moment was a glass of rum. Not here. Not in the apartment where he'd argued with his brother. He had to get out of this place.
Killian quickly showered off the last clinging dredges of the miasma one acquires from air travel. He then dressed himself, adding a slightly thicker line of kohl around his eyes than usual in an attempt to camouflage the dark circles beneath them. He grabbed his wallet, keys and phone before slipping on his armour of black leather and heading out the door.
It wasn't a long walk to his favorite pub down by the waterfront, but he found the chilly, slightly briny evening air bracing. It helped him think. Whether that was for good or ill remained to be seen. He made his way through the streets oblivious to the people he passed, instead over and over again talking himself into and then right back out of forgiving Liam and Emma. Exactly as he'd been doing the entire week in London, when he should've been sleeping. Gods, he missed his brother. What do you do when the person you usually rely on for good counsel is the same person you need advice about?
He had to admit on some level he understood where Liam had been coming from. The words his brother said about seeing Ariel's face everywhere had rung true. Killian remembered all too well the haunting pain of seeing familiar dark curls, a hint of a lost smile, a laugh that was almost but not quite right. How every similarity he found in a new face or form felt like needles in his skin, piercing reminders of what he could never have again. Killian had embraced that pain, feeling it was nothing more than he deserved, using rum to take the edge off when it became too much. Liam on the other hand seemed more inclined to avoid it altogether, to ignore it and hide himself behind a wall of stubbornness.
Killian understood, and yet he was still too angry to let his brother off the hook. Liam had lied to him. Didn't trust him. For all that they'd been through together, Liam still saw him as nothing more than his wastrel of a little brother. A useless burden to be coddled out of a sense of familial duty. It was humiliating.
Speaking of humiliation, he'd made a bloody fool of himself with Emma as well. She'd lied to him, same as Liam, but the hurt he felt with regard to her was of a very different nature. Obviously, at the outset they were perfect strangers. She didn't owe him a thing, and so he didn't feel the same sense of betrayal for her actions as he did with Liam. The problem was that he'd been so immediately taken with her - her spirit, her energy, her compassion. After years of keeping himself bottled up, she'd somehow managed to pop him right open, and the moment her mouth touched his, he was more than ready to pour himself out to her and let her swallow him whole.
None of it was real though, was it? Real for her, that is. It had been terribly real for him. How was he supposed to sort out which bits were the true Emma Swan? Except that… In light of what Liam had told him, so much of his interaction with Emma didn't make any sense. Why would she have needed to charm him as she did? To bond with him? It would've been more expedient for her to have simply been friendly, polite, and unmemorable.
But most of all - why had she kissed him? At the time, Killian had believed she was distraught from the news that Liam was cheating. Seeking comfort where she could find it, and he'd been too weak to deny her. Since that was clearly not the case, then why?
The thought tormented him, and he very nearly walked straight past the pub's door. Chiding himself at his own idiocy, he pulled the door open and in short order had deposited his sorry arse on a barstool. He ordered his preferred brand of rum and settled in for a long, lonely evening.
Which was immediately interrupted by a blonde in a sinfully tight red dress and fuck-me heels. It was all he could do to blink stupidly at her as she made a beeline toward him, and reached out to stroke his arm.
"Hi, babe!" Emma chirped (for of bloody course it was she), then leaned in to hug him, her lips ghosting across the shell of his ear as she whispered, "I'm on a job, just play along. My mark could already be here."
For a moment he was absolutely flabbergasted, but his instinct toward good form kicked in just after, and he bared his teeth in imitation of a smile. "Swan, so lovely to see you," he gritted out. "So what exactly are we doing now?"
Emma beamed like a high school cheerleader and even bounced slightly, her words at odds with her overly perky demeanor. "I've got a bail skip who frequents this place who should be here any minute, if he's not already," she gushed quietly, her lips barely moving as she grinned. She traced her fingers over the back of his hand and his breath caught in spite of himself. "Would you mind helping me by acting as part of my cover? Two people talking are less conspicuous than just me by myself, more or less casing the joint."
Bloody buggering fuck, he thought, but he couldn't just walk away and ruin her operation, could he? What could it hurt after all? At least he's not her bloody target this time. Let some other poor bastard suffer. What's it to him?
"Alright," he replied finally. "Shall we get a table then?"
She nodded cheerfully, picking up his drink with one hand and using her other to pull his arm around her waist as she lead him to a table by the back windows. As they walked, his traitorous body stirred in reaction to the feeling of her curves beneath his fingers, his pinky just barely tracing the jut of her hipbone, but he forced all such dangerous thoughts aside.
They took their seats, and she placed his glass in front of him. The sun had fully set by now, and through the glass he could see the moonlight glinting on the waves. They were silent for several moments, neither seeming to know what to say to the other. Emma made a couple of surreptitious sweeps of the room with her eyes, a vapid smile curving her lips. Surely anyone who came close enough could see she was putting up a front, but perhaps it would convince her mark from across a crowded room.
At length, Killian asked, "Did Liam send you?"
Emma gave him a cutesy shrug, keeping up the flirtatious persona. "I actually am here to catch a skip, but he didn't not send me."
"Why?" he asked, already half knowing the answer.
"He didn't think you'd listen to him." She replied as her fingernail once again began to trace nonsense patterns against the back of his hand.
"He was right," Killian acknowledged, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scowling.
"Jones, if you can't look happy to see me, maybe just enjoy the view for a minute?" She bobbed her head in the direction of the windows.
Killian took a sip from the glass Emma had placed near him, and the two of them fell into silence once again, gazing out the windows as the heavens began to reveal their constellations.
"So, what am I looking at?" he asked after an extended pause.
"The horizon," she answered simply.
"Is it doing something?"
"Not really, I just thought you'd find it calming."
"It is," he replied with a nod, annoyed with himself for the tendril of warmth unfurling in his chest that she would have this slight bit of insight into him. He plastered on a smirk and raised his glass in mock toast. "So is rum." He downed the remaining liquid and returned the empty glass to the table top with a rough clunk .
Emma's facade cracked for a split second, that glimmer of vulnerability making Killian's guts twinge with regret. But then she grinned at him again, mask firmly back in place. "I was hoping we could talk about Liam."
Bollocks, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. Not now. Not with her. He shook his head and forced his voice to remain low. "Swan, we talked about this."
She batted her eyes innocently at him, and he turned away from her, focusing his attention on the view of the darkened harbor.
"I talked. You walked away." There was a strange catch in her voice at the end that pulled his eyes back to her face. Her lips still smiled, but her eyes told a different story - accusation mixed with a sadness that ran deeper than just one argument, that spoke of a lifetime of being left behind. Her words from a week ago drifted back into his memory: "I know what it's like to lose someone."
"Swan…" he whispered, casting his eyes down to the table.
They were interrupted by a waiter asking for their drink orders. Killian requested a second glass of rum. Emma ordered a Diet Sprite with a lime wedge in a lowball glass, prompting Killian to raise an eyebrow in question.
"Looks just like a gin and tonic," she elaborated, adding in a little wink to get herself back in character.
Right. She's working. Killian took the opportunity to change the subject and asked her about her job. For a while, they chatted pleasantly, or as pleasantly as possible when discussing deadbeats and criminals. Her current mark sounded like a real piece of work. Killian felt a flicker of worry for Emma build inside him, but he shoved it down, reminding himself that she did this for a living and it - she - was really none of his concern. Except that...
Except that every once in awhile, her leg would bump his under the table sending a frisson of heat through his body, just like the night they'd met. Except that it was comfortable talking to her. So comfortable, in fact, that he could almost forget about the strange circumstances that had brought them here. Almost. The waiter returned with their drinks, and Killian immediately took a healthy pull from his glass. As soon as he placed it back on the table, Emma slid the glass away from him, drawing his focus back to her.
Her expression had hardened, clearly back to business. "I just want to know is anything going to be enough? Or are you willing to lose him just to spite him?"
He sighed wearily, propping an elbow on the table to rub at his temple. "Give me back the rum."
"He's done a lot of good," she continued, undeterred. "He's always been your hero. Yeah, he made a mistake, but he owned up to what he did. Did you ever think that maybe he lied to you because he was ashamed? He's always been the one to protect you. The 'strong one' or whatever. He wants to keep that image. He doesn't want you to see him as weak or to make you worry about him. He wanted you to be proud of him, not think of him as some broken mess."
He'd let his eyes drift shut as she spoke, but those last words pierced him to the quick. He cut his eyes sharply to hers. "You mean the way he sees me?"
Emma flinched back in surprise, then leaned forward in her seat, resting her crossed arms on the table. "Stop," she practically commanded, her voice and demeanor brooking no argument. "You know that's not true. You're not broken, either one of you, no matter what mistakes you've made. You both just need to forgive yourselves. And each other."
She leaned back in her chair again and took a deep breath, puffing away a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes. "The thing is, no matter how many times I tell you, or anybody else does, you have to do it yourselves."
Before Killian could respond, Emma turned away, something by the door catching her eye. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a skip to catch." She looked quickly back at him, eyes wide as she whispered frantically. "I apologize in advance for what I'm about to do, but just go with it. I swear I'll buy you a drink later to make up for it."
Emma stood quickly and slammed her drink down on the table, her face the picture of wounded fury. "So you what? Brought me here to break up with me?" she yelled loudly enough for the whole bar to hear. "Afraid I was going to make a scene, James? Well, how's this for a scene! I'm gonna screw the next guy who buys me a drink and there's nothing you can do about it!"
It didn't take a lick of acting skills for Killian to pretend to be dumbfounded. That came naturally. As Emma stormed off to the far end of the bar - followed by nearly every pair of eyes in the room - he took the opportunity to skulk his way to the men's room. He needed a moment to collect himself after the oddity this evening had turned into.
Thankfully the loo was empty. Killian turned the tap on the sink and splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to clear his head. He braced his hand on the basin and stared down his own reflection. What are you doing, mate? What are you going to do?
He turned and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, drying his hands and face before leaning back against a graffiti covered wall. The fact was, Emma had a point. Liam was all that Killian had left in the world and it would be ridiculous to push him away forever over this one incident. She was right, too, about him needing to forgive himself as much as he needed to forgive Liam.
That's why Liam's lie had cut him so deeply, wasn't it? It was less the lie itself, as the reason behind the lie - it hit on all of his insecurities. That he's untrustworthy, irresponsible, selfish. That every time he actually does try to help someone he cocks it up and makes things worse.
But I've got a choice now, he thought. I can keep wallowing like a git and push Liam away or get over myself and go talk to him. Talking. What a novel idea.
Blowing out a breath, Killian pushed open the door to the men's room and exited. He looked over to see Emma engaged in conversation with some greasy, Armani-clad prat at the bar. The man wouldn't keep his hands off of her - brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder, touching her upper arm, the small of her back.
Instantly stricken with a flare of jealousy, Killian had every intention of storming straight out of the bar, but then he heard the trill of Emma's forced laugh. He looked again, just in time to catch a glimpse of her profile, and he could tell even from across the room that Emma was clearly not enjoying the other man's attentions. In fact, she looked about ready to snap.
Couldn't this wanker see how uncomfortable she was? It seemed so obvious to Killian, that he couldn't understand how no one else seemed to have noticed. He knew he shouldn't interfere. This was her job after all, but he'd be damned if he let this arsehole manhandle her, so he strode toward them.
The man slid his hand down to cup Emma's shapely derrière. Killian's vision went red, and he hastened his steps, his lips twisting into a feral snarl. Then quick as a cobra's strike, Killian saw the man slam face-first into the bar top with Emma holding one of his arms contorted in what had to be a considerably painful manner behind his back. As Killian came within earshot of the two of them, Emma reached down between her cleavage with her free hand, pulled out a zip tie, then proceeded to wrangle the man's other hand behind his back and tie his wrists together.
"You know, I was going to do this the nice way," she grumbled, grunting as she pulled the man up by the shoulder and spun him toward the door. "But you just had to get all handsy, didn't you?"
Bloody hell, that may have been the single hottest thing I've ever seen, Killian thought . He stood there agape for a few seconds as Emma marched the man to the door, but quickly came to his senses.
"Swan!" he called as he jogged the short distance to catch up to her and walk by her side. "Can I be of any assistance?"
"Hmmm. I think I've got things pretty well under control." She bestowed a sickly sweet smile on her prey. "Mr. Carmichael here is going to behave himself now, aren't you?"
The man gave her a murderous look, marred by the blood dripping from his nose onto his expensive suit, but answered with a curt nod.
Emma turned her attention back to Killian. "I just need to hand him over to Boston's finest. There's a patrol unit outside expecting him. Would you…" she cleared her throat, her lashes fluttering as her eyes flickered down then back up to meet his. How she managed to look shy and demure whilst perp-walking a criminal she'd just single handedly apprehended was absolutely beyond him. "Would you mind just waiting a few minutes? I do still owe you that drink, after all."
Killian pressed the crash bar and held the door open for her and her quarry to pass through. "Not at all, Swan. I'll be right here."
Emma returned as promised not five minutes later, sidling up to him at the bar. She ordered him another rum and herself a real gin and tonic this time. Apparently now that she was off the clock, so to speak, true libations were acceptable.
When their drinks arrived, he inclined his head to indicate her glass. "All done then, I take it? With your arrest, I mean." He felt strangely exposed talking to her now, knowing how she'd seen right to the heart of his issues with Liam. He gripped his glass tightly to keep himself from scratching at that damn spot behind his neck. He knew she'd already learned that tell of his.
She tilted her glass up and took a deep gulp before replying. "Yup."
She seemed to be holding back as well, so he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "I don't know what I had pictured when you told me you were a bail bondsperson, but that…" He raised his brows and blew out a puff of breath. "That was not it."
One corner of her mouth quirked into wry smile, and he took it as a good sign. "What did you expect?" she asked, amusement coloring her tone. "Some elaborate honey-pot trap where I suddenly tell him I know all about his sins until he realizes I'm a bounty hunter, flips the table into my lap, and makes a break for it? Nah-ah. Not in these heels."
She straightened a leg, pointing her toe to direct his attention to the footwear in question. Killian's eyes trailed down the length of her leg and his mouth went dry. His fingers itched to trace the sinuous lines of her sculpted calf, to discover if her skin would feel as silky and warm beneath his calloused palm as he imagined.
Gods, did she do that on purpose? He drug his eyes back up to her face as quickly as he could make himself. "Those do seem a bit impractical for running down lawbreakers," he said with a smirk.
"I track, I identify, I arrest." She shrugged as if to indicate that this was all no great thing. "This one just got a little messy because he pissed me off."
Killian laughed - a deep, resonating sound, that felt both foreign and entirely welcome in his chest. "You're a bloody marvel, Swan."
She beamed at him, then pursed her lips eyeing him up and down in consideration. "Marvelous enough that I've convinced you to talk to your brother?"
Killian took a small sip of his rum, and sighed in capitulation. There was no sense in denying it now. Still, far be it from him to miss an opportunity to tease her. "After that display? I'd be terrified not to do as you say. I might find myself tied to a tree or with a dagger to my throat."
She lifted her brows so that they formed a peak above her pert little nose.
He raised his eyes to stare off at some point just above her head. "Yes, Swan. I'll talk to him," Killian deadpanned. He let his gaze fall back to hers again. " Tomorrow. Tonight, I'm jet-lagged as hell and it's been quite the bizarre evening."
She nodded, giving him a small, self-satisfied grin. "Fair enough."
Killian took another sip of rum, then grazed his tongue across the edge of his teeth in contemplation. Things were going so well between the two of them at the moment. Did he dare press his luck?
"You know, I can't help but notice that you're pushing rather forcefully for me to forgive Liam, but you don't seem to be pleading a case for any forgiveness for yourself. Unrepentant, is that it? No regrets?" He'd meant to tease her, but the words came out with a bit more earnest curiosity than intended.
She licked her lips, and her posture grew very still. "I said I was sorry. For the lying."
"Aye, you did."
"And…" She looked down, swirling her finger through the condensation ring left behind by her glass. She seemed to be trying to decide something, and must have made her mind up about it, because she met his eyes again with a look of determination. "I was about to tell you everything right after we -" she cleared her throat, her eyes flickering away for a split second before she continued. "Right before you left."
The wheels in his brain spun and he suddenly remembered. She did try to stop him, tried to tell him something, but he was hell bent on running at the time and didn't bother to hear her out. He pressed his eyes closed for a moment silently scolding himself. When he opened them again, Emma was chewing on her lower lip, studying him.
"Besides," she said with a casualness in her voice that rang false. "You made it pretty clear that I'm nothing to you. Just a stranger. I figured there was no 'us' to fix."
Killian's eyes widened at her admission. He couldn't allow her to believe that for a moment. "Emma," he breathed her name as gently, as tenderly as he could. "You aren't nothing. You were never nothing."
He reached out tentatively and took her hand, curling his fingers around hers. She stared down at their joined hands resting on the bar, but didn't pull away, though her breathing seemed to shallow.
He had to ask. It was driving him increasingly mad the longer he spent in proximity to her. "You don't have to answer this if you don't wish to, but I must ask. Emma, why did you kiss me?"
She met his eyes then, her expression a curious mix of nervousness and hope - an exact mirror of his own feelings. "Confession time? Because I wanted to. I really, really wanted to."
A broad grin split his face as soon as the words left her lips. Her lush, tantalizing, pink lips. He tugged on her hand gently, squeezing her delicate, cold fingers in his, and she smiled back at him. "I've got a confession of my own then. Amidst all the muddle that was my brain the last time I spoke to Liam, as angry and hurt as I was, some treacherous part of me was ever so annoyingly happy that maybe all this mess -" he raised his prosthetic hand in an all-encompassing gesture, "meant that Emma Swan was single."
She chuckled, and cocked an eyebrow at him "Is that right?" she asked, a smile in her voice.
"So…" He let his tongue trace the corner of his own mouth as his gaze flickered down to her lips and back up again. "Are you?"
She pressed her lips together, studying him for a moment, but her eyes danced with the same hope he now felt blossoming in his chest. "Yeah, I am." she replied. "For now."
Liam had been in the living room pacing like a caged tiger when Emma got home that night at nearly 2 a.m. She was accustomed by now to him worrying about her when she had to work late, especially out of town, but this was a new level of anxiety. Granted, she knew exactly why, but still - seeing him like that had been more than a little disconcerting.
He trained those big blue Jones eyes on her, and reached out with both hands as if expecting her to deliver him a large parcel. "So?" he asked, contracting his fingers in the universal gesture for 'gimme'. "What happened?"
Emma hesitated. She felt good - very, very good - after her last conversation with Killian at the bar that everything was going to be okay, but she knew from experience that giving someone unrealistic hope was far worse than if the happy ending just never played out. Was it really so unrealistic though? For the first time in a long time, Emma thought that maybe hope and realism could peacefully co-exist.
"We talked," she answered finally. "I slammed some other guy's face into a bar, and then we talked some more. I think things are looking up."
"And what does that mean?" he asked, his face scrunched in confusion.
"It means that I think you should get some sleep - we both should - and just wait and see what, if anything, happens tomorrow." Emma stepped out of her heels, then pushed them under the coffee table with her bare toes. "Now go." She pressed a hand to the middle of his back, rubbing soothing circles as she shooed him gently toward his bedroom. "Go snore on your side of the apartment."
She should've known. She should've known from his huff of irritation as she gave him a final reassuring pat on the back and he closed his door behind him, that by morning she was going to regret brushing him off. At that moment, though, she was exhausted and weirdly happy and, well… she was pretty sure she was going to have some good dreams that night. Maybe a little bit of hope wasn't such a bad thing.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
Dammit.
BAM! BAM!
I hate him.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
I guess I brought this on myself. Ugh.
Emma crawled out of bed, still wearing her clingy dress from the night before and stumbled toward the living room. There was Liam, hammering away at a… thingy. Made of wood. She guessed. Whatever. Coffee.
She scratched at her tangled hair and ambled over to the coffee pot, making sure she nudged him ('kicked' was too strong a word) with her foot on the way over. She supposed she could've called his name to get his attention, but words. Words are hard. Caffeine.
As the coffee pot burbled to life, Liam looked up at her. "Ah, the princess has awakened!"
"Weekend," Emma muttered with a scowl. "Ground rules."
"True, true. But it is after 10 a.m., so I'm well within the rules, love," he replied, and the jackass had the audacity to wink at her.
"Hmph" was the best retort Emma could come up with under the circumstances.
Liam snickered and walked past her to the cabinets, retrieving two mugs. "If you'd like to go get dressed, I'll pour you a cup when it's ready."
Emma's genuine gratitude won out over her desire to say something snarky, and she simply nodded in response then headed back to her bedroom. A lightning quick shower, fresh clothes and her toothbrush soon had her feeling like a human again.
Liam handed her a steaming cup as soon as she returned to the living room, but just as she settled herself onto the couch, a knock sounded at the door. Her heart rate increased as Liam moved to answer it. Under other circumstances, she might've been self-conscious about her wet hair and lack of makeup, but she was sure this particular visitor was more concerned with Liam at the moment than with her.
"Killian?" Liam's voiced sounded almost choked, and Emma looked over to see her roommate gripping his brother's forearms tightly. "What are you doing here? Never mind. Come in, come in."
Killian complied, following Liam into the living room. Emma stood, taking her coffee mug with her and had every intention of ducking into her bedroom to give the brothers some privacy, but Killian's voice stopped her. "It's alright, Swan. You can stay. Please."
Wordlessly, Emma sat back down, sipping her coffee as she watched the brothers Jones intently, waiting to see who would speak first.
"I'm sorry, Killian," Liam began, sincerity evident in his voice. "I wanted to be this perfect example for you. To inspire you."
Killian furrowed his brows. "All you did was raise the bar so high the only thing I could do was fail."
Liam hung his head. "I'm sorry I let you down. I was selfish."
"Aye, you were." Killian nodded. "But, at some point this has to stop."
Liam sighed wearily, meeting his brother's eyes again. "Killian, I'm not ever going to stop trying to protect you. Not ever. I don't care what you do or say."
"I know," Killian replied, his expression softening. "I need to stop punishing you."
"You do?" Liam ducked his chin, looking down at Killian warily.
"Yes, I do." Killian's lips quirked up at one corner. "You're my hero. This doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the good person inside of you. It doesn't change what you are."
"Which is what?"
Killian reached out to place his hand on Liam's shoulder. "My brother . You wanted to protect me, so you lied. Which was rather self-defeating, but human . Cutting you out, trying to hurt you has just made me miserable. Anyway, I miss you." Killian shrugged, dropping his arm back to his side. "And I forgive you."
They grinned at each other rather awkwardly in Emma's opinion, and once again she was tickled to see both of their right hands reaching up to scratch behind their ears. Boys , she thought with a small smile of her own.
As if they could hear her thinking, they both turned toward her as if they'd just remembered she was there. She raised her mug to them in a toast, hiding her smile behind the cup as she sipped. Killian's eyes lingered on her, and she felt a flush of warmth slip over her skin under his gaze.
Liam cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. "I've always been a bit jealous of you, you know?"
Killian raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You can't be serious."
"It's true," Liam confirmed, then his voice took on an almost adolescent whine. "Killian's the clever one, Killian's the charming one. He's so bloody witty and perceptive. Woos all the ladies and has all the adventures." He threw his hands in the air. "How could I ever compete with that? I'm just the stuffy old boring big brother."
Killian shook his head slowly marvelling in disbelief, then smiled, opening his arms wide. "Come here you stuffy old git."
"Oh shut it, you ponce." Liam rolled his eyes, but accepted Killian's hug, squeezing his brother for all he's worth and ending it with the customary manly back-slapping.
When the brothers broke apart, Liam gestured to the couches and told Killian to take a seat while he fetched him a cup of coffee. Killian tentatively sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Emma. Turning to face her, he ran his hand roughly through his hair and fixed her with a broad, almost dopey grin.
"Hi," she said, unable to contain her grin in return.
"Hi," he replied. "Thanks for talking some sense into me."
Emma scrunched her nose playfully at him. "Anytime."
Liam returned with the coffee and made himself comfortable in the arm chair. "So what are you two talking about? You look rather cozy ." He emphasized the word with a twitch of his eyebrow.
Emma pursed her lips and glared at her meddling roommate. Subtle. Very subtle. She was about to comment, but Killian beat her to it.
"Honestly, Liam, we called a truce not 5 minutes ago, and already you're trying to take the piss out of me?"
"Fine, fine. No more taunting," Liam drawled, the quickly amended, "for today, at any rate. And no more lying. Ever. For either of us."
Killian hummed in agreement as he took a sip of his coffee. His face turned pensive for a moment before he spoke. "Bloody stupid thing to lie about, wasn't it?"
Emma set her mug down on the table and leaned forward to listen.
Liam tilted his head in question. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean, brother, is that if you were going to lie to get out of spending the weekend out on the town, why didn't you tell me you were sick or something? Much less complicated. Easier to fake. No long-term follow-up."
Liam locked his eyes on Emma and she stared right back at him. Killian was absolutely right. They were a couple of idiots. She wasn't sure which one of them cracked first, but soon enough they'd both burst out laughing.
"Oh my god," Emma chortled shaking her head and swiping a hand at the corner of her eye.
"This, Liam" Killian admonished as their laughter died down, " This is why they say I'm the clever one." He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. "And I've another clever idea for you. It's nearing lunch time. Why don't you go pick up the lovely Tink and the four of us can meet up at Granny's. I think I'd rather enjoy getting to know your new girlfriend. The real one."
Liam's eyes lit up endearingly at the mention of Tink's name. "An excellent plan, brother."
For a moment Liam glanced knowingly between Killian and Emma. She thought he was about to say something else, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead he stood and grabbed his truck keys and wallet off the counter, then headed to the door. "I'll see the two of you in half an hour."
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Emma became terribly, painfully aware of her state of aloneness with Killian. They'd parted on a high note in Boston - or at least she thought it had been a high note. She told him the truth about kissing him because she'd wanted to, and he hadn't backed away. He'd actually smiled. And then made sure she was single. So maybe Liam wasn't totally off base with his teasing? So then...
"So…" Emma began awkwardly.
"So." Killian smirked and scooted closer to her on the couch, their knees barely brushing. "Are you ready to go on our second date?"
Emma cocked her head to the side, barely suppressing the smile threatening to break across her features. "Second date? Did I miss the first?"
"Aye," he said with feigned nonchalance. "The drink you bought me in Boston was the first, double date with my brother and his lass is the second. Do try and keep up, darling."
He leaned in closer, that stupid smirk on his face and his stupid tongue doing wicked things again. He grinned lecherously when he caught her staring at his mouth. Cocky asshole.
She needed to do something to set him off-balance, needed to see if she could affect him as much as he was affecting her. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and reached out to smooth her hand over the lapel of his leather jacket. The widening of his eyes and hitch in his breath were slight, but gratifying nonetheless.
"What a shame," she said with a pout ( and there goes that tongue of his again. Good lord, it's got a mind of it's own ). "Maybe I'd have known it was a date if there had been a good night k-"
Before she could finish her sentence, Killian surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that made her toes curl. She threw her arms around his shoulders, and fell willingly as he lay back on the couch pulling her on top of him. His hand caressed the curve of her jaw, the nape of her neck, finally tangling his fingers in her hair. His other arm wrapped around her waist, his prosthesis pressing firmly into the small of her back as if he couldn't get close enough to her. She knew the feeling well - it was the same one coursing through her own blood.
Emma nipped at his upper lip, and he opened to her, letting that talented tongue of his slip and curve around hers. She breathed him in, swallowing his moan as their lips worked in tandem and this, THIS is exactly what she needed. Exactly what she -
The door swung open abruptly and Liam's voice boomed through the living room. "Have either of you seen my…"
Emma raise her head to see Liam frozen, absolutely stunned. Killian groaned exasperatedly underneath her, and she dropped her forehead down to his chest, clinging to his lapel and burying her nose in his shirt front to hide her laughter.
She turned her head, pressing her ear to Killian's chest ( I guess I CAN make his heart race ), and looked up at Liam to see his face plastered with a smug grin. "Phone. I, ah, left my phone, but I suppose I can find it after lunch. I'll just let you two have at it then."
He stepped back out the door, and Emma could feel Killian reaching down to the floor for something. Just before the door closed, Liam popped his head around it and flicked his hand at them in a commanding gesture. "Carry on!"
The door shut and was immediately struck by the cushion Killian had apparently aimed at Liam's face. Emma laughed again, looking down at Killian as he scrubbed his hand across his forehead.
"Oh, brother…" he sighed, then placed his hand back at her waist squeezing gently and looked up at her with fire in his eyes and the very devil in his smile. "Now, Swan, where were we?"