The rest of the weekend passed in a pleasant blur of grocery shopping, casework, and filthy letters; declaring their intentions seemed to light a fire he hadn't known existed, and she made it clear the feeling was mutual. He felt energized and relaxed when he returned to work on Monday morning, and even Spencer was impressed by how thorough and detailed his work was regarding the Tillman case.

"This might just get them to settle," he said proudly, scrolling through an electronic version of Killian's work on his iPad. "Excellent work, Jones."

"Thank you, sir."

The senior partner continued to tap on the tablet. "You will be attending my holiday party, correct?"

"I—yes, sir." He was never foolish enough to decline that invitation; Albert Spencer's annual holiday party was the place to make connections, and it was understood that attendance for associates was practically mandatory. Killian didn't particularly enjoy himself, often making the rounds a few times with James, Spencer's son and a fellow associate, and making sure Spencer himself saw him before slipping out before ten o'clock. Some of the guests were good company, but after growing up relatively poor (the settlement from the accident hardly counted, given how much of it went towards his education in the States), he found the majority of his boss' high society friends extremely grating, unpleasant, and out of touch with reality.

"My secretary tells me that you RSVPed without a plus one."

Killian blinked, trying to process why his boss was mentioning the detail. He'd sent back his response to the invitation a month ago, only a couple of weeks after he'd started leaving messages at Swan's door. And even if he could change his response to include Swan as his date … that would not work, given their unique situation.

"That's … correct," he said slowly, treading carefully.

"You're not bringing anyone?" Spencer raised an eyebrow. Was he supposed to bring a date?

"And who would you have me bring, sir?"

"Just bring someone," Spencer said emphatically. "You're young, you're handsome, and you're talented, and that's all well and good. But people don't like to see family lawyers who don't have their personal lives together. It makes them think you don't know what you're talking about. Just bring someone who'll smile and look nice and make you look good. I already added a plus one to the guest list, so just make sure my secretary gets a name by Friday." And with that, he nodded and left Killian's office.

Bloody hell.

Instead of going home after work, he went to the marina. Thirty minutes after he left the office, he was aboard the Jolly, mulling over the situation.

He couldn't ask Swan. It was just out of the question. But should he even tell her about it?

It felt like an insult, almost, to insist that he was not ready to meet, and then, mere days later, tell her about an event to which she was essentially invited by his boss. It was nothing short of taunting, wasn't it? He could still tell her about the event in general, he supposed; he had never planned to hide it from her. He would have to explain his absence that evening anyway, and "work holiday party" seemed fairly innocuous. She might assume he'd be welcome to bring a significant other, but she wouldn't guess that he'd been instructed to.

It was settled, he thought, as he stared off at the horizon. He would let his Princess know that he would be absent that evening, but thinking of her the whole time. It was an easy promise to make: it would be true.

But who to bring with him? He supposed there was one potentially easy answer to that.

"Hey, Killian."

"Evening, love."

"Are you … are you calling me from the boat?"

He rolled his eyes at Belle's comment. The boat. "I'm simply enjoying the evening from the deck."

"Ah. Well, what's up?"

"Are you available the evening of the eleventh?"

"No, and I don't think you are either," she said.

"What?"

"Graham said he called you. He wanted us to go to the movies with him and meet his girlfriend."

"Shit." He'd meant to check his calendar and get back to Graham, but with all the turmoil surrounding Swan—Emma, he had to remind himself—it had slipped his mind entirely. "That's the annual holiday party."

"Oh, so you can't go anyway."

"No, and I … I need a date. Spencer made it abundantly clear that it's not optional."

She laughed. "That's a bit strange."

"He said something about how no one wants a family law attorney who doesn't have their act together," he said, trying to remember the phrasing. "I don't know, it sounds like bullshit to me, but he was insistent."

"I'll come with you." He sighed with relief. He truly didn't deserve such a friend. "Do I get to wear a fancy dress?"

"The fanciest." He couldn't suppress his grin.

"What about your neighbor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will she appreciate you going to this event with someone else instead of her?"

"She knows I'm not ready to meet," he explained. "She's giving me time. We're happy with the relationship as is."

"Whoa." Bloody hell, he had not meant to say that! "Killian, relationship?" Her inflection was far from judgmental, but he cringed anyway.

"Let's not make a huge ruckus out of this."

"How can you even say that?"

"Belle, please."

"Oh, please yourself, Killian. How would you react if I said something like that to you? Don't pretend you'd think nothing of it."

She had him there. "What are we supposed to do? Celebrate? Nothing's changed; we simply put a name to it."

"But you're still not ready to meet?"

"No." He wasn't about to tell Belle about what had happened Saturday, when he'd asked Swan out in the laundry room. It was time to redirect the conversation back to its original thread. "Anyway, you'll come with me?"

"Of course I will, Killian. Just let me know what time. I think I have the day off, so I can meet you at your place if you'd like."

"Thank you." He felt his shoulders relax; he loathed asking for favors. "I'm truly fortunate to have such a wonderful friend."

She chuckled, clearly pleased at the compliment. "Well, I try."

He arrived home quite late; it had been a while since he'd taken public transit to the marina instead of driving, and he'd forgotten how long it took to take the train. There was a note waiting for him under Swan's mat.

My Captain,

Is everything all right? I feel kind of like a spoiled asshole asking where the hell my letter is. But, like … maybe I'm a spoiled asshole. Are you okay?

Your spoiled asshole Princess

My darling, not at all spoiled Princess,

You have my sincerest apologies, love. I had quite the day at work and spent some time on my ship to clear my head. You may be shocked to hear that the Green Line was particularly unforgiving when it came time for me to return home.

Was your day all right? I spent much of mine wishing I could return to this weekend, enjoying myself with you. I admit, I'm still a little giddy. It's been quite some time since I could say that I was in a relationship—more time than I'd care to admit. You may have to remind me how to behave.

Please don't feel pressured to reply by tonight, by the way; I know it's quite late. I will try to make it up to you, I promise. Even if I don't remember how to be a boyfriend very well, I do know that you should never have to wait up, wondering if I've forgotten about you, feeling even the least bit unwanted. I care about you, and I'll try not to leave you worrying again.

Yours truly,

Your Captain

He made sure to warn her the following week that he would be unavailable Friday evening, and would be out of touch until the following morning. He was careful: he simply said he had an office holiday party, hoping that she would assume, like he had his first year at the firm, that it was a simple party, held late in the workday in the office itself. If she knew it was a black tie event, and then she spotted him in a tux as he left his flat, the jig would be up.

Maybe Belle's presence would make this party bearable; he really rather preferred to stay home and chat with Swan.

There was a knock on his door at six o'clock, just as he was fastening his cufflinks (hopefully no one important would notice that they carried a skull and crossbones design on them). He opened the door to find a beautiful brunette in a blush colored gown; it took him a moment to even recognize that it was Belle standing in front of him.

She was grinning widely as she swept into the flat. "So, I take it you think I look nice?"

He managed to find his voice again. "Belle, you're stunning." Bloody hell, she looked nothing like the shy librarian he'd known for years.

"Why, thank you, Killian," she said, curtseying cheekily. "Oh, you're wearing the cufflinks I got you!"

He grinned and struck a pose to show them off. "But of course. I can't resist wearing them when given the opportunity."

"That makes me very happy." She was still grinning, as though she had a secret.

"Is everything all right?"

"I rode the elevator with someone," she said mysteriously, her tone implying that the comment should mean something to him. When he merely furrowed his brows and shrugged, she sighed, although she kept smiling. "Beautiful blonde, who happened to get off on this very floor and pick up a note that someone left under her doormat—ring a bell?"

He could feel his blush extend to the tips of his ears. "You didn't …" He coughed to clear his throat. "You didn't talk to her—tell her—"

"She complimented me very sweetly on my attire, and I thanked her." Belle rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "Of course I didn't tell her."

He sagged. "Thank you."

She chuckled. "Ye of little faith. Now, let's get this show on the road! I didn't get all dressed up to sit around at home."

"Too right."

He'd been nervous that Swan might join them in the elevator; he knew she would likely hit the fitness center tonight, knowing he wouldn't be home. Instead, when they stepped into the lift, it was empty except for Will, who wore the expression that indicated he was about to spend another Friday wallowing in whiskey at a local bar. But the man's eyes lit up and widened as Belle moved next to him, graciously trying to bunch up her flowing skirts to avoid inconveniencing him. Killian concealed a smirk as he hit the button to the garage level.

The Boston Public Library was decorated resplendently for the occasion, and Belle had to continually suppress her giddiness as they moved through the rooms and greeted the guests Killian knew. "I've never been to such a fancy event in my life!" she all but squealed when they moved to a corner to get a break from socializing. "And it's here. You know how much I love this place."

"Thanks again for coming with me."

She rolled her eyes as she sipped her champagne. "Well, of course."

"Belle? Killian?"

"Kristoff?" The social worker was several feet away, waving enthusiastically for them to come over.

"I didn't know he'd be here," Killian whispered as they walked over.

"Neither did I," Belle replied. "Hi, Kristoff!"

"Evening, mate." He shook his hand. "Where's your lovely girlfriend?"

Kristoff smiled sadly. "She wasn't feeling well."

"Oh, that's too bad." Although he privately thought it was for the best; having an extremely, tactlessly talkative date could be a liability at this sort of soirée.

"Killian Jones, is that you?" Ingrid Fisher, chief of staff and Kristoff's boss, glided over, looking like a queen in a glittering silver gown.

"Ingrid, it's lovely to see you." He kissed her cheek. He was understating his feelings; it was a relief to see her. She was one of the few people he looked forward to conversing with at these sorts of events.

"And who is this gorgeous lady?" She looked towards Belle.

"Ingrid, this is my friend, Belle French. She's agreed to keep me company this evening. Belle, this is Ingrid Fisher, from the Department of Children and Families."

"My extremely demanding boss," Kristoff said helpfully, causing Ingrid to roll her eyes.

"Lovely to meet you," Belle said warmly.

"Likewise," Ingrid said sincerely. "Now, you said, 'friend?'" she asked, giving Killian a look that made him very much want to find a hiding place.

"Uh, yes," he said.

"Belle, why don't we go check out the reading room?" Kristoff said loudly.

"Oh, that would be lovely," Belle agreed eagerly, before the two quickly departed.

Ingrid laughed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make it too awkward."

He smiled, trying to seem at ease. "No worries, darling. But yes, Belle's simply a friend of mine. Spencer was adamant that I not come tonight without a date."

She chuckled. "Well, that does sound like him, always trying to make a good impression with the clientele. Though it doesn't make that much of a difference."

"I agree wholeheartedly."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're single actually," she said, and his heart sank. "There's a woman in my office who I swear would be perfect for you."

"Ingrid."

"Just hear me out. She does adoptions, so it wouldn't be a conflict of interest like it would be if you dated Kristoff." She winked. "She's gorgeous, and she's got a great sense of humor, and she's recently single. I think the two of you would absolutely hit it off, and I'd be happy to give you her number."

The only way to handle the awkward moment was to simply barrel right through it. "Ingrid, that is a very kind offer, but I'm … actually not single."

"Oh." She looked surprised and a little sad for a minute, but then fond irritation crossed her face. She playfully slapped his shoulder. "Well, why didn't you say anything? Letting me go on like that …"

"My apologies."

"So if you're not single, what's with bringing a friend tonight?"

He sighed. "She couldn't make it."

"That's too bad," Ingrid replied sympathetically. "Long distance?"

He almost replied with a no. But … "Yes, exactly." Long distance! It was so simple! "Fortunately, she was all right with me bringing Belle, but I do wish she could have been able to attend with me."

'Well, hopefully next year, distance won't be an issue." She smiled. "Because I am very interested in meeting whoever was able to get Killian Jones to be in a relationship." He coughed on the champagne he'd been sipping, but Ingrid simply chuckled and strode off.

He arrived home after dropping off a happily drunk Belle; there was a note waiting for him.

My Captain,

I hate your stupid job's stupid holiday party. I miss you tonight. Come home and tell me how much more fun you'd have had if you'd stayed in tonight.

Sorry, I'm in a bad mood. My boss goes to this party every year, and I always want to go, but the invite's just for her. Well, this year one of my coworkers got to go, too. He doesn't even like these kinds of shindigs! I might have wallowed a bit over the whole thing. I ate a sleeve of Ritz crackers and watched Say Yes to the Dress for a few hours. Uuuugh I feel so gross.

I don't know what time I'm going to bed, but please … I know you might be home late, but please leave me something. I feel so …

Here, she'd crossed out a great deal of text, so completely that he couldn't discern what she'd said.

Whatever. Miss you.

Your Princess

He loosened his bow tie and undid his cufflinks first, but then he immediately sat at the computer.

My dearest Swan,

You were on my mind all night, love. All I could think of, the entire party, was how how early I could skip out and come home. To say I would have had more fun here with you doesn't do justice to just how much better my night would have been had I spent it in your figurative company. The entire evening, I wanted to talk to you, to laugh with you, to revel in your presence. Work parties are already undesirable ways to spend my time; when they also keep me from you, they become abhorrent.

I will spend the entire weekend working to make it up to you. I swear to you, my darling Princess, that when I'm through with you, there will be no doubt in your mind how much I regret leaving you alone all night.

Truly yours,

Your Captain

Some new scenes here! I'd love to know what you think of them.