Author's notes: Picking up right where we left off - post Pastor Jones punching the fuck out of Neal and winning over his mate Dave in the process.
At first he was worried that Emma would be upset with him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him (to be perfectly honest he was quite upset with himself), but the way she melted into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her told him that she was just relieved for the whole thing to be over.
Perhaps the anger would come later, but for now he held her tightly and whispered "You're OK, love, I've got you," into the soft hair just above her ear.
He caught Mary Margaret's eyes as he began to rub reassuring circles into Emma's shoulder to help calm her down - and in them he could see her gratitude and understanding. She gave him the slightest nod with her lips curling into a hint of a sad smile before moving to her husband's side and whispering into his ear.
Whatever she said made David give him a similar nod before they both turned toward the door - a silent approval for him to be the one to comfort their daughter.
With their departure he became aware of the fact that they were still standing in the lobby, and though people weren't outright staring at them - they really should go find somewhere a little more private.
He brought his good hand down to hers - interlacing their fingers as he led her to his office. He was grateful for the soft brown leather couch that still remained from the previous pastor and he directed her to it gingerly, letting her lie across the cushions. Despite the ample space to stretch out, she stayed slightly curled in on herself - too much like the scared woman he'd seen moments ago when Neal had cornered her.
He crouched down on the floor in front of the sofa, her face still hidden behind stray strands of her golden tresses. It was like a security blanket for her. She didn't want him to see her so… weak. But when he brought his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear - she didn't stop him, but she flinched.
Her jade eyes were rimmed in red, cheeks flushed pink - either in fear of Neal or embarrassment of his actions, he couldn't yet tell. He felt like his heart had shattered in his chest - the sharp edges of it piercing his lungs, making it impossible for him to catch a full breath.
"My darling, I'm so sorry" he soothed. Kissing her forehead sweetly. "I just…" He sucked in a harsh breath. "I just couldn't stand to see you like that. You looked so uncomfortable, distraught even - and then when I realized…" his voice trailed off and her gaze finally met his - the tears forming there making her eyes seem impossibly magnified. "When I realized it was… him. I just couldn't help it."
He searched her expression for any hint of a reaction, but found none. At her silence he felt the distinct slither of doubt and self-consciousness worming it's way through his body - it made him shudder to think his lack of control could have just cost him the one thing he wanted most: for Emma to feel comfortable around him.
He desperately wanted to be steadfast for her - secure and strong in a way that she hadn't experienced yet. And then he had to go and fly off the handle and ruin all of that. Lost in the raging seas of his emotions - he'd almost missed her small voice.
"Killian?"
He looked back to her with a furrowed brow, as if he could still catch the outline of his name on her lips if he concentrated hard enough. She was shaking a little, but she reached her hand out to touch his arm.
"Thank you." She all but whispered it on a sigh - so much breath behind the words they barely made it to his ears, but once they did - the tension fell from his shoulders and face, his lips even quirking up into an appreciative grin.
"I'd do it again in a heartbeat," he replied, bringing his thumb to her cheek to swipe at the tear that had finally fallen. "I'll die before I let anyone hurt you."
The sincerity in his words shot straight to her heart. She believed him. She believed that he would do anything in his power to protect her.
"No one has ever…" her voice was finding it's strength now, little by little. "I've always felt so alone. Like it was me against the world. But, just then - I…" her voice was cracking now, but she willed herself to continue. "I was never the kind of girl who wanted to be protected, but just then - I wanted help, and then there you were."
He could feel those broken pieces of his heart making their way back to their proper place in his chest as she spoke - the sentiment tender and proud in a way he never felt deserving of.
"I'll always be there, love. Always." He cupped her chin lightly, bringing his lips to her forehead for another gentle kiss. "He won't be a problem any more. You can relax now. You're safe."
She was so exhausted - the adrenaline from the unexpected encounter and the ensuing "fight" (if you could call it that), had run it's course, and now left her feeling dazed and drained. Killian grabbed the throw blanket on the other side of the couch and pulled it up over her, continuing to stroke her hair and whisper reassurances.
She had no idea how long they sat there like that, or even if she had stayed awake. She was so tired and relaxed that she may have dozed off for a while. But when her stomach started grumbling she realized it must've been quite a while.
Poor Killian was still in a crumpled heap on the floor - his thumb still absentmindedly moving in her hair.
"Killian…" she nudged him - yeah. He'd dozed off too. "Killian," she repeated a little louder - this time his name causing him to stir.
"Mmmm" he groaned and scrunched his nose up at being woken up. He was unspeakably adorable like that, something youthful and even juvenile in his unedited expressions.
"You fell asleep," she added - still jostling him a little to get him to wake up.
"S'did you," he murmured, his voice still heavy and low.
"Yeah, but I'm awake now, and hungry." She laughed as she reached to find her phone to check the time. "Oh shit, it's 4. We slept for a while - and... " she frowned at the screen.
He begrudgingly sat up, straightening his back and stretching a little.
"What is it, love?"
He was most definitely going to be sore from that awkward position.
"A text from my mom. My parents invited us to dinner - like… together. Tomorrow night."
A chuckle rumbled in his chest at the way she still looked startled about the message.
"Is that a problem?"
She shook her head at him while she moved to stand up and straighten herself out, hands moving nervously through her hair. "No, of course not. It's just… very… formal? Official?"
"There's nothing wrong with the formalities, darling - and although I know you're quite fond of spontaneity - a bit of good form never goes amiss." There was a sparkle in his eye at both the innuendo and the way he held his shoulders proud and square when he spoke of his beloved good form.
On the bed behind him lay Emma and the remains of what appeared to be most of his wardrobe. He had been trying on different outfits for the past hour and a half - absolutely determined to make a good impression at their first official dinner with her parents.
Never one to take too terribly long to get ready in the first place, Emma had spent the past hour and 15 minutes just watching him. The way he would flick through the hangers, brow furrowed as he contemplated each piece. Honestly, it was just a fantastic excuse to watch him get undressed over and over again - licking her lips when he tried on a particularly snug pair of jeans that sat dangerously low on his toned hips.
Of course that was the pair he decided to stick with, and it made her want to peel him out of them before they even left his place. He was singing quietly to himself as he tried on shirt after shirt, and she could see his anxiety in the way he fumbled with his buttons.
With just 15 minutes left before they needed to leave, she finally moved from the bed to what had become her "side" of the closet. Really, it was just the spot to hang her coat, a couple shirts and a dress. She landed on the dress - a casual grey cotton shift with a pair of black leggings and her black ankle boots.
Turning her head to the side she worked her fingers through her hair to pull out the more egregious knots, but didn't bother doing anything else to it - the warm blonde locks falling in gentle waves around her shoulders.
He was quite nervous, actually. It seemed silly, since not only did he and Emma decidedly NOT need David and Mary Margaret's approval - but it appeared that punching Neal seemed to win it nonetheless. And yet, here he was, in a smart pair of dark-wash jeans (which hugged his ass in a way he knew Emma would appreciate) and a simple navy blue button-up, fidgeting like a teenager on prom night.
Taking a deep breath he looked himself over one final time, ran his fingers through his hair to mess it up just enough to keep him from looking too put together.
When she turned back around her breath caught in her throat. He was still standing in front of the mirror, but he seemed to have settled on an outfit. His good hand was shoved deep into his pocket, his shoulders hunched a little as he took stock of himself - and apparently wasn't terribly happy. Emma, however, felt her heart soar at the look of him. Something about his shy demeanor in that moment reminded her of the buttoned-up Priest she fell in love with.
He was all good form and social anxiety - clearly unaware of how mind-numbingly attractive he was in this moment.
"Well don't you clean up nicely?" She stepped up behind him, moving forward until her frontside was pressed into the firm line of his back, snaking her hands under his arms and around his waist, working them up his chest as he sighed into her touch.
"Think we'll pass inspection?" He teased, feeling her nimble fingers turn greedy, toying with the sharp muscular v carved into his hips.
"Well, I don't have time to be as thorough as I'd like. But it certainly feels like everything is -" he hissed as she dipped her hand down over the growing bulge in his already too-tight jeans - "ship shape, Captain."
He rocked his hips into her hand - desperate for more contact, but she pulled away.
"It's bad form to leave a man all riled up like that love." He growled after her as she giggled her way over to the bathroom.
He grumbled under his breath as she called out from behind the closed bathroom door that she'd be ready in 10 minutes.
It was for the best anyway, he told himself, putting the flowers he'd bought for Mary Margaret into a sturdy enough vase to make the short car ride. He tried to convince himself they didn't have enough time for what he had in mind anyway as he pulled the bottle of Moscato from the fridge (of course Mary Margaret would love something that sickly sweet.)
He groaned as he settled into the couch, flipping through the mail while she finished up. He couldn't imagine what else she had to do to great ready - she looked lovely enough as it was - but he knew better than to question her.
She grinned to herself at the idea - how much it reminded her of when they first got together. Standing there in front of the mirror, fidgeting like he was heading into a life-changing interview - Killian looked so much like the Father Jones of old, and less like the debauched sex god she'd brought out of him.
Five. Five photos, all timed to be sent during dinner. She knew he was required by the church to keep a relatively close eye on his phone in case of emergencies, so he'd definitely see them.
The first one was relatively mild. She just applied some fire-engine red lipstick, pulled her neckline down a little and leaned seductively toward the mirror to give an excellent view down her dress. Click.
One down, four to go.
Standing at the front door, he took another deep breath.
"Ready love?"
"I feel like I should be the one asking that," she retorted, reaching around him to ring the doorbell.
He winced at the harshness of the sound and the inevitable start to what was bound to be a very anxious evening.
The door swung open before the second chime, and Mary Margaret was practically radiating heat with the intensity of her smile.
"Come in! Come in! Oh, are those for me?! They're lovely, Father - erm… Killian!" He extended the flowers awkwardly, the bottle of wine tucked into the crook of his bad arm.
Mary Margaret scooped them both up quickly, handing them off to David (who made quick work of getting the flowers in a vase, wine in the fridge, and pulling some whiskey out of the cabinet) as she returned to her post in the kitchen.
Emma chuckled a little at the way her mother was rambling. She was clearly excited, and the skip in her voice matched the bounce in her step as she worked away. David simply held up the bottle of whiskey and tilted his head to inquire after them, Emma nodding fervently and Killian politely declining.
After a while they settled into easy conversation. David and Mary Margaret still went to the Catholic church sometimes, and Killian was glad to hear that his replacement seemed to be doing well - though they had noticed a slight dropoff in attendance.
They talked about Killian's new position, and how much he liked the new church - though he wasn't terribly thrilled about the idea of being "on-call" all the time - required to keep his phone handy. David just laughed, saying that it's part of the marriage contract too, just not in writing.
Dinner was almost ready, they were just about to get the table set, and Killian excused himself to use the restroom and wash up. As he was walking over he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Cursing the piece of technology he loved so dearly otherwise, he slipped it from his pocket and tapped the screen. A message from Emma? That's strange. He hadn't seen her pull her phone out - not to mention she's been sitting next to him all night…
He closed the door to the restroom and opened the message at the same time - his eyes widening as he took in the sultry image. His breath caught in his chest and he dropped the phone clumsily in surprise accidentally kicking the small chest of drawers as he scrambled to pick up his phone.
The clatter could surely be heard out in the main room, Emma calling out to him teasingly "Alright in there, Jones?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." He called back, licking his lips as he let his eyes rove over her. She was up on her tiptoes, pushing her chest out toward the mirror - and leaning over in a way that left her perfectly rounded breasts on display, her head turned slightly to show off her elegantly long neck as she smiled coyly for the camera.
His brain finally clicked the pieces together. That's what she was doing for 10 minutes in the bathroom. And if their history was any indication, he was in for a long [excruciatingly sexy] night.
He imagined every unsexy thing he could think of - old ladies in swimsuits, the Titanic - none of it mattered. His erection simply wouldn't go down, which he would ordinarily love, but at the moment it was kind of a problem. Running his hand through his hair, concerned that they may send a search party soon with how long he'd been in there, he decided to try and take care of it as quickly and quietly as possible.
There was a small bottle of lotion sitting on the vanity, and he did a quick sign of the cross (old habits) and said a prayer for forgiveness for what he was about to do.
After putting a quick pump of lotion into the palm of his hand, he shimmied his pants down far enough to pull himself out and work over his straining cock. His head slipped back as he sighed heavily in relief - just the pressure of his hand and the slick lotion on his hardened arousal had him keening.
He rested his other arm on the vanity as his hand pumped over his sensitive skin. Before long he was rolling his hips into his hand, his breathing shallow, his strokes shortening to focus on the little ridge at the tip that Emma liked to run her tongue over.
Oh God…
That final thought of Emma sucking him greedily is what did him in. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed as he felt himself tighten up, raising up on his toes and pointing himself toward the sink as his orgasm overcame him - hips jerking and cock pulsing as thick ropes of his release shot into the porcelain bowl.
Jesus Christ. I'm so in love with this woman, Killian thought to himself - catching his breath as he washed out the sink and cleaned himself up.
When he came out from the bathroom she was grinning like the damn Cheshire cat - and he looked... well, sated. Simultaneously blanched and blushing.
"Everyone ready?" Mary Margaret smiled brightly.
He smiled and nodded weakly, walking over to the table - pulling Emma's chair out for her he leaned in to whisper "Bloody tease" into her ear as he completed his outwardly gentleman-like gesture.
They settled into sparse, but relatively easy conversation as they ate. It seemed David had been having some trouble with a group of teenagers who thought it was quite funny to go around defacing Mayor Mills' reelection campaign signs.
Her tough take-no-prisoners attitude had gained her the nickname "The Evil Queen," and while many of the townsfolk liked to complain - none did so in her presence, and they certainly didn't dare run against her.
It was during a lull in the conversation that Killian's phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. He immediately looked up at Emma, suspecting it to be another of her inappropriate photos. Best save that for later.
"You can get that," Dave said, nodding to Killian's pocket. "We know it's a condition of your new employment that you have to pay attention to your phone. It's not a problem, honestly."
Mary Margaret quickly and heartily agreed. "Yes, of course! Please go ahead. We wouldn't want you to get in trouble."
Killian lifted his hand in protest, "That's very kind of you, but I'm sure it can-" his sentence was cut off by yet another vibration in his pocket. He huffed in resignation. "Very well. Please, excuse me."
He stood up from the table, expertly holding his napkin in front of himself to hide what was soon to be an obvious tent in his already too-tight pants. Emma picked up the conversational void by starting to talk about her recent interest in portrait photography of all things, while Killian made it over to the corner to pull up the messages.
Just as he suspected. Both from Emma. Both picture messages. He held his breath as he clicked the first image. She had her back pressed up against the bathroom wall opposite the mirror, giving a nearly full-view of herself. The leggings were gone, and while one hand held her phone up, the other was dipped into a marvelous pair of black lace panties, her dress bunching up at her forearm where she'd pushed it up to gain access. She was looking directly into the camera, tongue peeking out to lick her lip.
He felt himself twitch and harden at the thought, suddenly quite upset that she was doing all of this just mere feet from him while he twiddled his damn thumbs in the other room. Clearly his talented fingers could've been more… agreeably engaged.
The second picture was impossibly sexier, the dress had been removed entirely and she was standing boldly in nothing but the lace bra and panty set he caught a glimpse of just moments ago. She'd pulled one of the cups down and pinched a pert rosy nipple between her fingers, her legs crossed as if trying desperately to find some friction for the ache between her thighs. Surely it was torture to tear her hand away from herself long enough to snap the picture.
He swallowed thickly - both hoping for that to be the end, and begging for it not to be. But his phone remained silent for long enough to convince him that he had to head back to the table. He slid the phone back into his pocket, opening his stance at the knees a bit while he adjusted himself in his pants - hoping his raging erection could go unnoticed until they could excuse themselves for the evening.
"Nothing too serious, I hope!" Mary Margaret chirped as he settled back into his seat.
"Nothing urgent no, just some office stuff." He lied through his teeth - add that to the list of transgressions to atone for in his nightly prayers, and Emma smirked playfully from across the table.
While the dinner itself was quite delicious, he'd never been more uncomfortable in his life. And not because Mary Margaret and David were being tough on him, in fact, nothing could be further from the truth - they were nothing but incredibly gracious and kind to him for the remainder of the meal. But try as he might, he couldn't get Emma out of his mind, and he'd held this erection for so long it was starting to become physically painful.
It was at the end of the meal - plates cleared away, just the drinks and conversation left - when Mary Margaret had offered coffee and it happened again. Another loud buzz came from Killian's pocket, but this time the edge of his phone was pressed directly into the hard line of his arousal. The feeling of the vibration against his impossibly sensitive cock almost made him cum right there. In his pants. At the table with her goddamn parents. As it was, he gasped and his eyes rolled back a little before he could clench his jaw to control himself.
"Actually, Mom, no thank you. Killian's been keeping something from you guys all night," Emma started (the warning glare he gave her didn't go unnoticed, but she continued anyway). "He hasn't really been feeling well, but since he's been such a good sport, I think it's time to get him home."
They all stood up from their chairs, David grabbing a few stray dishes and ferrying them to the kitchen while his wife fussed about coats. He took the opportunity to stand and adjust himself before Mary Margaret handed him his coat.
"You should've said something! We could have rescheduled!" She patted him on the arm reassuringly before turning her attentions to Emma and giving her a big hug.
David clapped him on the shoulder with a sincere smile, "Feel better soon," before giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek. It was clear he was a little worn out, his wife was quite energetic on normal days, and Killian could only imagine the flurry of activity that would have preceded a night like this.
"Thank you both for being so understanding, and for the delicious meal and delightful company," Killian said as politely (and quickly) as he could manage. The throb between his legs was stronger than ever, and he was desperate to be somewhere - anywhere - else than standing in front of her parents.
"See you soon," Emma added with a wave, before turning toward the door.
Once the door clicked safely shut behind them, he grabbed her by the wrist possessively, practically dragging her down the stairs. She giggled at his impatience, knowing the final two pictures would really do him in - and to be honest, she was glad they were soon to be in a position to do something about the bulge he'd been expertly hiding all night.
He was striding down the street, a man determined - before abruptly turning to pull them into a nearby alley and pinning her to the brick wall with his hips, leaving his mouth mere centimeters from her lips as he shoved his hand into his pocket roughly, pulling his phone out.
"And just what did you leave me this time, darling? Another picture?" His voice was low and gravelly as he swiped at the buttons to pull the images up.
His mouth went dry as he took them in. She was completely naked, exquisite pale skin reflected to it's fullest in the mirror. She had climbed up onto the counter (thank god he had a deeply set countertop), legs spread wide, feet planted on the mirror in front of her, giving an impossibly erotic view of herself spread out for him. She'd brought two fingers up to her mouth and was sucking on them lewdly as she snapped the shot, cheeks hollowed around her own digits.
He grunted in approval as she squirmed at the memory of what came next.
"Such a dirty, wanton woman," he growled, flipping to the final image.
Her skin was no longer pale as porcelain, but rather sporting a delectable blush, particularly in her cheeks and across her chest. She was still sitting on the countertop, legs spread wide, but this time those fingers were buried inside herself, riding her fingers as her hips lifted up from the cool counter, her head thrown back in ecstasy. He'd know that look anywhere, she was mid-orgasm - and it was the most splendidly beautiful and breathtaking thing he'd ever seen.
How she had the focus to take the picture in that moment was beyond him. He was dizzy on his feet just seeing it. She felt his cock twitching even more between them, and she knew that last picture had the desired effect.
"Like it?" She teased.
"No." He said flatly. Her face only had a split second to fall into confusion before his lips were on hers, devouring her in a passionate and needy kiss. He dropped his phone to the hard concrete below, forgotten in the desperation of the moment.
Pulling back to kiss and suck at the pulse point hammering away in her neck, he whispered. "No. I don't like it. Because I'm jealous. You were having all of that fun without me."
He brought his hand down to grab her hip harshly as he bit at her collarbone.
"You just wanted to torture me all night, didn't you? But you had your fun first…" His thoughts and words were punctuated with kisses, nibbles and soft bites, working his way down her body - kissing her through her clothes until he got to the hem of her dress.
He snaked his hand upward, her body jolting at his touch, until he was cupping her through the thin lace of her bra.
"Maybe I should torture you, get you all riled up and then just leave you here. Or better yet, take you back to your parents. Say you forgot something," he pinched her nipple as he spoke, earning a gasp of pleasure from her.
"You wouldn't dare," she responded by dragging her hand down to squeeze his ass and pull his hips tighter into herself, increasing the pressure on his straining cock as she swirled her hips lightly, causing him to curse under his breath, his movements faltering. "You're too far gone. I know it."
He sucked in a clearing breath, knowing she was right - of course. He was going mad with his desire for her. So mad, that not long after masterbating in her parents bathroom, here he was - about to fuck her senseless in an alley. Embracing the inevitable, he focused on chasing their pleasure.
"Did you think of me?" He crooned as he pulled his hand from her chest and dropped it to roughly pull her leggings and panties down, licking his lips at the pooling wetness he found there. "Christ, you're so wet for me."
He was practically panting now, but so was she, and he slipped two fingers inside of her as he continued to growl into her ear. "Did you imagine my cock as you rode your fingers in that bathroom? Play with yourself and imagine it was my tongue sucking on you? Dipping into you?"
She moaned as he spoke - his dirty talking always got to her in a way she never could have imagined. The combination of his sultry voice wrapped around those wicked words, and his fingers pumping into her relentlessly was driving her wild.
She was bucking against him absentmindedly but in a moment of clarity she realized it wasn't what she wanted. She whispered to him urgently, "Please, Killian, so close - not like this."
He understood immediately what she meant, and he couldn't blame her - it's what he wanted too.
"Take your shoe off," his tone was commanding - she didn't even bother to ask why just the one - simply doing as he asked. She bent down and unzipped her boot, while he fumbled with his pants, popping the button and shoving both them and his boxers down far enough to pull himself out.
She slid her foot out of the show, and with it still raised he pulled her leggings and panties all the way off before grabbing her around the waist and lifting her - coaxing her to catch her heels behind his back, her tights dangling uselessly from her other foot, the boot holding them on.
With her legs wrapped around him like this they were deliciously close to where they both ached for each other. With her hands thrown around his shoulders, she used that little bit of leverage to push up just enough to catch the tip of his cock, letting her weight fall as he slid into her.
They both sighed in relief as he finally settled into her warm, tight sheath.
"Oh, God, you feel so good wrapped around me." He sounded absolutely wrecked, like a man wandering the desert who'd just found his oasis.
"Mmmm" was all she could manage as he started rutting his hips into her, long languid strokes better suited for a bedroom than an alley, but she could hardly complain as each deep roll of her hips shot white lightning through her veins.
She was sliding down the wall a little, the harsh brick scraping across her delicate skin, and she flexed her legs against his to steady herself in an attempt to work her way back up - but the movement made her even tighter around him, and Killian's hips stuttered in surprise, the intensity of the sensation almost sending him over the edge.
"Fuck, love," he bit out as he drove into her relentlessly - the pace quickened as he started to lose control, "So close. Are you close?" He half pleaded - hoping to God she was close, because he felt like he was about to burst.
She anchored one arm on his shoulder, gripping the hair at the back of his head, and brought her other hand down between them to her sensitive bundle of nerves. In a few short circles she was right there with him, the tight coil of her impending release settled low in her belly, ready to snap at any moment.
"Yes, Killian, so close" she sighed as he kept pounding into her, each snap of his hips driving her closer and closer to that glorious peak. He tilted his hips up just a tiny bit - and on the next thrust he hit that spot deep within her that had her seeing stars.
"Oh, God, that's it - Don't stop!" Her fingers were working over herself furiously as she started to fall - every single nerve in her body firing as she snapped and crashed over the edge, her legs shaking as he convulsed around him, still driving into her - his brow furrowed in concentration as he chased his release.
She was like a vice around him as he continued to rut into her, "Emma, God, Emma, I'm gonna -" his mouth hung open on the final word as his hips stuttered, unable to keep their steady rythm as he tensed and pulsed his release deep inside of her, coating her walls with his thick seed. His orgasm was so forceful she actually felt the pressure of him shooting his cum inside her, which only drew out her own high even further.
They were both breathless and sated, slumped against the brick wall - vision dark with their recent release. Who knows how long it was before they released he was still inside of her, both of them half naked and connected in the most intimate of ways in public (albeit in the alley).
Reluctantly he allowed himself to slip out of her and step back, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, and untangling her panties and leggings, helping her work her bare leg back into them before kneeling in front of her to put her shoe back on. He blinked up at her from his kneeled position, impossibly blue eyes shining through the relative darkness - and he couldn't help but say it.
"Emma Swan, I am so impossibly in love with you." He stood up as he said it, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it sweetly.
She blushed at his statement, knowing it was true - but still slightly uncomfortable at the gravity of it. She knew this "I love you" wasn't just meant as a platitude, but rather as a way of saying, "I'm yours if you'll have me," and for the first time in her life - it was what she really wanted.
They come so far together. When they first met she was a rebel with an eye toward havoc for havoc's sake - and he was… well, a priest, a recovering alcoholic, a one-handed mess. But together they were so much more.
"I love you, too, Killian. Now, let's go home." She beamed triumphantly at the crumbling of the last of her armor - stepping into his side and allowing him to put his arm around her as they left the alley.
As the months passed, David and Killian became surprisingly fast friends - and (unsurprisingly) enthusiastic sparring partners.
Things at the new church were going fantastically, exactly the kind of place Killian had always wanted to land. It was forgiving enough not to toss out a preacher who punched someone on his first day, and forward-thinking enough to allow him to tackle the difficult issues of the faith with the realistic approaches people actually needed to hear.
He and Emma had moved into a new place by the water, this one a little bigger. For the moment the extra two rooms were for both of them to have their own home offices, but he hoped that someday they'd need the space for a very different reason.