OH MY G: No one told me I posted an epic fail. The previously posted CH4 was wrong. I'm so so so so so sorry :/ please forgive me. This version is correct. ALSO, I've updated the earlier chapters. The only big piece I've added to is CH2 with a memory of how Robin and Emma know each other. Not sure why my docs are posting right. Probably operator error. Whoops.
PS You are all amazing! 41 follows :) yayz
Upstairs in bed, Killian stared at the ceiling. After the fiasco with Robin's friends he considered himself done with people for tonight. Rubbing a hand over his face he thought back to Emma Swan, the blonde firecracker. Beauty and fire combined into one beautiful, frustrating woman.
Muffled cheers and whistles sounded from outside. Curiosity piqued, Killian abandoned his sulking. He went down the staircase and grabbed a beer on his way out into the backyard. Once there he leaned against a tree, watching Robin and friends raise their drinks to the coming year. Robin gave an endearing speech putting his feelings for Ruby, Regina, Victor, and Emma on display.
They all looked happy: everyone celebrating together, filled with excitement; living in the moment. Killian wished he felt a part of this, a part of something more. Instead, he felt emptiness. Years ago, disappointment created the void in his heart and tonight it assured him distance was best between himself and everyone else. Friends were never forever and provided constant let-downs. The meeting with Swan was a prime example.
From the shadows he watched Emma and Victor standing close to one another. Was she smiling up at him? Odd couple if you asked Killian. Eventually she waved Victor away toward Ruby and strode out of the yard. Killian finished his beer and followed her. As much as it pained him, he had to repair things with Robin's childhood friend, lest Robin felt moved to kick Killian out for making Emma uncomfortable.
Deep breaths don't hyperventilate. No job, home, college, money-nothing. Can't breathe, can't breathe. Halfway to her car Emma slumped to the ground, hands and knees catching her in the middle of the street. Blurred vision meant she was going to pass out, didn't it? Not that it mattered; nothing mattered any more. Emma wasn't going to Storybrooke University with everyone else. She wasn't going anywhere except here: the streets.
"Are you all right?" A man called out. Their voice sounded far away but hands lifted her against something warm and solid. "Lass, you've got to control yourself."
She shook her head and managed to squeeze out a few words between pants. "Can't see." It was hard to think. Emma felt her rescuer settle them both down on cold hard concrete.
"Here," he said then placed her hands overhead clasped together while whispering words of encouragement. "Hold on tight, let go of everything on your mind." She listed to his voice; the warm words calmed her thoughts, pushed back the panic from earlier. Her breathing made its way back to normal. The world blinked into focus.
Emma sat on the front porch against someone's chest. A man's scruff scratched at her cheek. Then she realized her hands were wound up and around a neck. Scrambling to get away she elbowed a stomach, almost escaped until he grabbed her waist and flipped her around to face him.
Bright ice blue eyes ringed with concern hovered inches from her face.
"Better, eh, Swan?" I have died, she thought, died and gone to heaven because they do not make them like this anymore; muscular, shaggy black as midnight hair, a bit of scruff, piercing eyes, and an accent that a woman dreamt about for days after hearing it.
She nodded.
"Did something happen? Last I saw you were talking to Victor. If he did anything untoward…" Untoward? Who is this guy? Emma wanted to roll around in his accent for the rest of her life. Then it hit her—Killian Jones. The roommate. The asshole roommate.
"No, Victor would never." She shook her head. "I guess it was from stress. Graduation and all that growing up business."
"Understandable," he said.
"You can let go now."
"Hmmm?"
"Everything is fine now; you can let go of my hands." She pulled them away and rubbed her shoulders. Killian cradled her cheek with a rough palm as he thumbed away a tear. "Crap. Tears. Tell me my mascara isn't a mess."
He laughed. "I wish I could, Lass."
"Emma," she said pulling herself out of his lap to stand at the porch rail. "My name is Emma and I need to fix my make-up." Or else everyone would ask about the black tracks running over her cheeks. And she wasn't prepared to deal with her friend's lines of questioning.
Killian rose. "Let me get Robin."
"No, don't!" Emma grabbed at Killian. "Like I said, I'm fine. Overstressed but fine, plus Robin will only sit by me the whole rest of the night or force me to lie down. What were you doing anyways? Following me, Jones?"
He frowned, "Yes. No. I simply wanted to fix things between us because I'm sure Robin would have no qualms about kicking me out to make you more comfortable. You are important to him. That means you and I will most likely be around each other a lot this summer; I don't want three months of weird anytime you stop in to hang out. Or worse, I'd hate to keep you away."
"Cause this isn't going to make things awkward at all." They shared a laugh. She tried not to notice the way a smile lit up his face, made him so much, so much, more. "Look, I need to fix this," she said waving at her face. "I happen to know Regina keeps a stash of supplies in the upstairs bathroom."
"And you need me to sneak you in?" he asked.
"Well, yeah. Your bedroom has its own door on the other side of the house. They'll only ask questions if they see me like this, Killian. Can we please keep this between us?"
"For now, Lass."
His room wasn't a mess but it wasn't tidy either. Bookshelves and Firefly posters lined the walls. This pirate kept getting cooler.
"Quick, your favorite Mal quote," Emma said after he shut the door behind them.
"I am to misbehave. Yours?"
"That is definitely my favorite of Mal's but of all time: I am a leaf on the wind."
Killian finished for her. "Watch how I soar."
"Words to live by," she said. Before his geektasticness swept her away any further, Emma headed for the hall. She found Regina's makeup kit but the bathroom light had burnt out. Thankfully, Killian had an old fashioned wooden dresser complete with over-sized mirror and decent lighting. "Mind if I borrow your mirror? Lights are out in the bathroom."
"Of course," he said with crossed arms from where he leaned against the far wall.
Emma repaired the damage with makeup remover while Killian stared her down in the background. She let out a loud breath, tossed her red leather jacket onto his bed, then met his eyes in the mirror.
"Just say whatever it is that you so obviously want to say."
He nodded. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine," she replied as she drew liner back on under her eyes. "Nothing another drink won't cure."
Killian didn't look convinced. "You were collapsed on the road ten minutes ago; give it another ten to be safe. Look, I won't say anything but you need to talk with one of your friends."
"I can't tell them about this attack." Emma shook the mascara before brushing her lashing with the spiked wand.
"I'm talking about what is stressing you. Talking it out will help."
Emma scoffed at him. Done applying makeup she packed everything away again and turned to look at Killian. Without the mirror between them he felt closer, more real. "I can take care of myself."
"Says the girl I saved from the middle of the road."
"Saved? Please, I would've been fine with or without you." She left before he could say anything back. Killian stayed put for the rest of the evening, staring at her forgotten red leather jacket.
A/N: Hi there! Thanks for reading. I've updated CH 1-4 as of July 18th.
And per usual, please review.