Here it is, the second part of the cs valentines day gift for the lovely captnbellamy over on tumblr!

The second time she sees him isn't at all to do with his unacceptable shower times, believe it or not, but is more to do with her friend and her friend's new husband, David, (more like a brother to Emma, if she's honest with herself and she loves him like one).

She goes to their house on Sunday evening for dinner like she does every week, apple pie in her hands as she waits patiently at the door.

"Hey," she starts, not looking up as she waltzes into the apartment. "I brought-"

Her eyes widen at the unexpected person who she'd been rambling to who coincidently was completely not Mary Margaret or David.

"You!"

He smirks.

"Hello, love," his tongue curls around the syllables with purpose, that dark look in his eyes. "Fancy meeting you here."

Honestly, she's very - extremely - close to strangling him when her two friend's come walking in.

"Emma," Mary Margaret grins, her eyes flickering to Killian's. "I see you met Killian."

"We met previously, actually," Emma retorts, her eyes hard.

"That's right," she grins. "The two of you live in the same building, right?"

Killian's eyes don't falter from hers, following her every movement but Emma shoots a glare at her best friend, recognising the tone. It wasn't purposeful... right?

"That's correct," Killian murmurs, just as David comes up to stand next to him.

"Come on, Jones," he says jovially, arm clasping around his shoulder, "Dinner's almost ready."

And still, his eyes never leave hers as she goes out of her way to avoid talking to him, to avoid any physical contact as she glares at Mary Margaret.

"We're not done talking about this," she warns her friend as they fall into step behind Killian and David.

Mary Margaret merely smiles at her, the one that is so full of hope and positivity that she wants to murder her, and shrugs, humming under her breath with a soft look in her eyes that has Emma judging her sincerity.

"I wouldn't doubt it for a second," she tells her.

But then David is suddenly at her side, arms stretched for a hug which she returns softly, and Emma doesn't have a chance to broach the subject again, especially not when she is very pointedly ignored.

At the table, Killian is placed on her right which she notices completely, his leg pressing into hers, thigh against hers, with his scent surrounding her and she's cursing the two idiots in the room. Though, which two the idiots are is up for debate, considering she really, should have seen this coming. She'd just told Mary Margaret about him, literally, two days before, about the irritating neighbour who kept her up at all hours so honestly, it was more than expected for her friend to do something like this.

Wanting Emma to find true love and all that. God. Who could really harbour that much positivity? It was beyond irritating and she knew that.

She tries to ignore him, eyes glaring down at her food as she pokes her food about on her plate.

She must have missed something, she muses, with everybody's eyes on hers.

"I was just asking," David pauses, "When you met Killian?"

"Thursday," she answers shortly and Killian chuckles, hand reaching up to scratch that spot behind his ear that she will completely not admit she finds so endearing.

David frowns but she feels Killian's eyes on hers, feeling as though he's burning a hole into her skin.

"Afraid I vexed her highness," Killian answers and when her head snaps up to glare at him, there's mirth dancing in his blue eyes as he stares back at David. "My shower times are something of an inconvenience," he clarifies.

"Well, if you didn't shower at 3 am like a normal person..."

He merely grins, his left dimple protruding as his eyes gleam back at hers with glee.

"I thought we went over this the other night, sweetheart," he tells her, "Not a normal person," another pause. "I'm extraordinary."

She snorts with an eye roll.

"And there's that extended sense of self worth," she snips.

"Most people call it confidence," he counters.

"Nope," her lips pop on the last digit. "You're just a cocky bastard."

Killian doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, leering towards her with a smirk.

"You love it," he retorts with a wink - and seriously, damn him all to hell.

There's a retort on her lips, an insult probably when a cough interrupts them and she practically jumps away from him, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

"Well," David coughs, "I can see the two of you are getting along just fine."

Killian's eyes are still on hers.

"Not as well as I'd like," he retorts.

David smirks and Mary Margaret grins.

"Maybe you shouldn't be such a monumental asshole, then," Emma suggests, sarcasm coating her tone.

He doesn't comment, just widens his smile ever so slightly as his eyes flicker back over to Mary Margaret's.

"David tells me the two of you managed to paint the nursery?" he says politely, voice raising at the end in his question and Emma wants to groan at the comment, knowing she'll never leave now if she wants to show her all the new things she's recently bought for the baby on the way.

"Yes," her eyes light up. "Oh, Emma," she says, "You have to see it!"

Honestly, she's killed him several times over. In her mind, anyway.

"Of course," she gets out between clenched teeth.

(And well, if she delivered a kick to Killian's thigh under the table and he covered it over with a small cough, eyes glaring into hers, no one needed to know.)

(Except David, if the knowing look he gave her was anything to go by.)

Throughout dinner, she finds out that David and Killian work together. Somehow. Killian works for his company anyway (and honestly, she's still not all that sure what David does), but he works down at the docks. Something about ships, apparently. Not boats, as she coincidently finds out.

"Ship, Swan," Killian corrects and she almost jumps back at the passion in his eyes. "And she, ships are always referred to in the female."

She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Jones."

(After she pointedly ignores the looks she receives from Mary Margaret and David.)

But nothing escapes that later, when she goes to say goodbye, after Mary Margaret had practically forced her to sit still while she went over what she'd bought for baby Nolan, she talks to her, that serious look on her face as she glares back at the blonde.

"He seems nice," she tells her.

Emma hums uncomittedly.

"You could mind your manners," Mary Margaret instructs her and Emma snorts.

"He's not nice," she corrects. "He's a cocky womanizer."

This time, Mary Margaret smirks with a cocked eyebrow.

"So, that's what bothers you. That he sleeps around a lot."

Emma huffs, arms crossing over her chest but doesn't dignify it with a response, getting up to leave when Mary Margaret calls her back.

"Yes?"

"I almost forgot," she says quietly. "David told Killian you'd give him a ride, since you live in the same building, and he walked over here."

The only response she gets is a glare to her back as she walks away.

"You're welcome," Mary Margaret calls over her shoulder as she walks back into the living room.

"You won't be saying that when I call you for help in me burying his body," she mutters.

"You wouldn't," Mary Margaret sing songs.

And damn her, she's right.

Like a good friend, she does give him a lift. However, she ignores him all the way there, eyes glued to the road but when they get into the lift together, that's when the awkwardness seeps through the air.

"They seem nice," he offers.

She snorts.

"Funny. They said the same thing about you."

"I am nice," he defends and she raises an eyebrow.

"You have a funny way of showing it."

And then the elevator pings, signalling that they're on their floor. Honestly, she's all good to ignore him again when he grips her arm, hard enough to stop her in her tracks but soft enough that it won't leave marks.

"You've got me all wrong," he tells her, eyes on hers.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

He nods.

"We got off on the wrong foot," he tries again, releasing her arm from his grip as his lips quirk upwards and pauses for a second. "How about we start again? Since you will be seeing a lot of me from now on, living in the same building and all that."

She doesn't particularly want to but he is right and working with David, it's not like she'll ever get rid of him.

If you ask her later, she'll blame it on the glass of wine she had at dinner, as inaffective as one glass is, to the reason why she nods, breathless at the feel of him up close, his chest practically pressed into hers when he smirks.

"Good," he smiles, one that actually looks genuine, to her at least.

He leans towards her and she really thinks he's going to kiss her but he bipasses her lips, his lips landing on her left cheek in a lingering kiss that has her fingers clenching up into a fist. His breathing comes out unevenly against her ear and she shivers at the warmth, at the feeling of his scent surrounding her and honestly, she's quite sure she's going to kiss him when he pulls away.

His eyes flicker down to her lips when he eventually pulls away, that small smile still on his lips as he scratches that damn spot behind his ear.

"It was a pleasure," he says softly. "Emma."

He pulls away, altogether, and she's left watching as he walks into his apartment, stood there, paralysed.

God. She was so screwed.