"Permission to enter, Captain?" Robin stood in the doorway and paused when he saw Killian unbuttoning his shirt nearly down to the navel. "And to stick a few dollars in your g-string if this gets any more interesting?"
"Shut up and help me convince my mother over here," he jerked a thumb at Will, "that there's no place to put a wire instead of being a sarcastic asswipe."
Robin came in, surveying the expanse of torso with a critical eye. "Why can't you just put it in the normal place? You know –" he gestured to his own chest right over the sternum. "If you do up a few more buttons it won't be visible. And it won't look like you're auditioning for a lumberjack version of the Ice Capades with all that flannel."
"Yeah, well, that's the problem now, innit?" Will leaned against the row of low filing cabinets under the window. "It turns out this one went for the Miami Vice pirate look back in the day. If he shows up at the meeting spot dressed like a soccer dad on family picture day, it won't trip her nostalgia button. Oh, and there's none of that easy-off tape left. If you wear one at all, you're gonna have to 40-Year-Old Virgin it when the mic comes off." He laughed when Killian cupped his hands over his pecs and winced. "I'll keep the recording going after this little tête-à-tête just to hear you scream like a little bitch getting waxed."
Will pronounced the French phrase as tit-a-tit.
"Nobody is going to be seeing anybody's tits, jackass."
Killian fell back into his chair, running a hand through his hair.
"I beg to differ because one of your succulent man boobs just fell out of your shirt. Nice to see you haven't been skipping chest day." Robin gestured as he sat in one of the visitor's chairs and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee.
"Fucking hell," Killian muttered, trying to tuck himself back into the gaping flannel.
At least his habit of never throwing away useable clothing was going to pay off. Milah had played the seductress when she'd called, leaning heavily on their past and even leading him down memory lane straight to the bed they'd once shared before the conversation was over. Pulling out the shirt she'd bought him one year for his birthday from the stash of clothes he kept in his office and dusting it off was a calculated move, and both of his detectives agreed following her lead and swerving slightly toward the personal couldn't hurt, stopping short of actually indulging in any tit-a-tit-ing.
This wasn't the first time a person of interest had played a baiting game and invited him out for a little chat to feel out the department's place in an investigation. But to date, Milah was the only one he'd banged in a frat house closet.
Still, he'd used his masculine wiles on many a suspect and C.I. over the years. This one just made him feel dirty. And guilty. As Emma's acting Captain, he was under no obligation to keep her informed of investigative decisions when she was off the clock. As her boyfriend – manfriend? - lines were more blurred.
Having Emma close personally and professionally was everything he never knew he'd always wanted but in the moment it felt complicated. Should he have woken Emma and told her about the meeting? Should he call her now and tell her? Was he reading way too much into his own misgivings about seeing Milah? Fuck.
Killian leaned forward, bracing both elbows on his desk, hands fisting and twisting in his hair.
"I hope you don't handle your dick like that. Rip your shit straight off."
Giving his hair one last yank, Killian picked up the closest thing on his desk and chucked it at Will. The Post-Its collided with the Kleenex box Robin had thrown, sending both items off course and crashing to the ground before they could hit their target, which flipped them both off cheekily.
"How I handle my dick is my own business. But for your information, it's never complained."
"Maybe, but I'm sensing you're a little conflicted about the meet up. Could that have anything to do with, say, the other dick handler in your life?"
Killian laughed in spite of himself.
"Please refer to Detective Swan as my dick handler to her face and let me be there when you do. Call it and the subsequent entertainment that will come when she sticks a boot so far up your ass you'll be banging it and blowing it at the same time an early Christmas present. Pretty please with sugar on top."
Before Will could keep the banter going, Robin held up a hand.
"If you two keep at it, Cinderella is going to miss the ball." He turned toward Killian. "Look, we're nowhere near being able to charge Milah for anything related to Dreamshade. At best, her connection to the organization is circumstantial and any defense attorney worth their salt would be able to squeeze some serious reasonable doubt from the piddly bit of evidence we do have."
"That's even if the D.A. was inclined to entertain fraud charges for the discrepancies between the marriage license and the deposit box paperwork," interrupted Will.
"Right." Robin tossed a finger gun in his partner's direction. "But that's small shit, Captain. Unless Milah has a record a mile long Zelena hasn't uncovered yet, there's nothing else to get her on – yet. The last time I checked, having known associates who are shady as fuck does not a convictable crime make. You're our best bet to move this forward."
"Emma will understand that," Will added. "It's only weird because you're making it weird. And figure out a way to wear the goddamned wire because Archer is right. We're standing somewhere between jack shit and fuck-all in the evidence department. If there's anything we can nail her with, you're gonna want it on the up and up and on tape."
Killian was nodding before they could finish their little tag team match on his myriad of hang-ups and stood.
"When you're right, you're right. Gather up whatever Merry Men are hanging around the office and head out. No department vehicles, even unmarked. No uniforms or department-issued clothing. Milah wasn't stupid when she was twenty and she won't be stupid now, but neither am I." Killian rolled his eyes at Will's scoff. "Fuck you and the one-night stand you rode in on."
"Hey, no need to hate just because you quit the game for some regular pus –"
"Say it and you won't need to wait for Emma to kick your ass because I'll do it first." Patently ignoring Will and his unrelenting ability to make everything a joke, he addressed Robin.
"Four cars to box the bar in that are far enough away to give the impression I'm alone but close enough to get there if the shit hits the fan. At a glance, I want everyone to look like a civilian. We know her associates will kill cops without a second thought. If shit goes down, and I don't think it will, civvies will buy some time."
He waved them off and rolled his shoulders back; there was nothing like a little pep talk to get himself out of his own head. Emma had given them their first big break since the task force was put together. If it were anyone else, he'd make a courtesy call to the officer and invite them in on the next leg of the investigation. Just because the last time he'd seen her, she'd been asleep in their bed didn't change the professional dynamics.
Picking up his phone, he dialed and settled in desk chair once more, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.
"Hello, Captain Jones."
Taking the phone into the closet, Emma looked around looking for something to wear over her camisole. Having a walk-in was a dream. And, in another lifetime, having to keep it neat and orderly would have been a nightmare. But Killian's time in the Navy had provided him with deep-seated neuroses – they're simply good habits, Swan, no need to exaggerate – and a well-organized closet was one of them.
At first, her side was pitifully sparse; her small apartment didn't exactly lend itself to large wardrobes. She'd bought a few more things to fill in the gaps, mostly at Killian's suggestion. For a guy who seemed to keep every stitch of fabric he'd ever worn, he was surprisingly fashionable.
"Hello there, my Sleeping Beauty."
"Beauty? The drool on the pillow says otherwise. Doubles are a bitch." Tears pricked Emma's eyes as she yawned hugely. "I saw you came home and took the truck."
"Given how dead to the world you were, I'm surprised you're up. The last time you worked a double I made the mistake of calling and asking you if I could bring you a grilled cheese for lunch and you nearly tore my balls off through the phone."
Gray or cream for the sweater? For fuck's sake, like it mattered. Emma grabbed the closest one and walked back over to the bed.
"Yet here you are calling again. That means either you're a slow learner or something happened."
The laughter through the phone wasn't the raucous tone she was used to. It almost sounded nervous.
"Killian?"
"Milah called."
The words came out in a rush and the difference in his demeanor was momentarily pushed to the side as an adrenaline rush hit. Something had come of those hours spent sitting on the attorney's house. They had an in.
"Really? That's fucking awesome. What did she say? I'm putting you down so I can finished getting dressed."
Emma pushed the necessary buttons to put the phone on speaker and jack up the volume.
"Okay, tell me," she said, pulling the sweater over her head. Phone in hand once more, she went into the bathroom and balanced it on the edge of the sink to pull her hair into a ponytail.
"She wants to meet and gave me an address."
"Classic power play with controlling the environment. Nice. Where's the meeting?" She nodded as he named the crossroads of the bar, figuring her growing, yet still limited, knowledge of Bangor's layout could be easily bolstered by GPS if this was an invitation, and fingers crossed it was. "Do you need me? I can make it in less than thirty."
"That's why I called. Robin is putting together a team to form a perimeter. Since you broke the lead with the photo, I thought you might want in."
Oh, I want." Emma made her tone low and breathy, purposely putting a little twist of seduction into her words. When she still didn't get the normal width and breadth of an honest-to-goodness Killian Jones chuckle, she paused. "What's up with you? This could be really good for the case."
There was a loaded silence on the other end of the line before he spoke.
"I – well, yes, but it's…she was very…familiar."
A scuffle and loud bang came through the speaker followed by a litany of curses more befitting of his oft-flowery speech patterns than the current stutter.
"Apologies, love. Banged my knee."
"Leaning too far back in your chair again?" she teased letting the conversation stall until she finished her hair and walked back into the bedroom. The phone went on the edge of the dresser while she made quick work of picking up the previous shift's clothes off the floor and putting them into the hamper in the corner. "Come on, Killian. Don't make me give another heavy-handed speech about knowing when someone's lying. Or in this case, holding back. Just tell me."
And he did as she went downstairs and moved about the kitchen gathering a quick lunch to take on the road. About how Milah had gone straight past friendly to flirty, bringing up anecdotes of a personal nature and, as Killian had put it, breaking the confidences of the bedroom.
"So she uses sex as a weapon? Better to know that now so you can figure out how to play off it." Emma took a bite of sandwich – turkey and provolone on fucking artisan bread of all things because now that he could afford better, Killian didn't touch the cheap, tasteless white bread they'd both grown up eating with bologna – and talked around it. "Or is this different because there's history there? And the fact that she hesitate to bring up the time you banged her on the hood of your car or whatever?"
"It was in the closet of a frat house, Swan, but yes." A pause. "And then there's you."
"What about me? Pretty sure I would have remembered such a romantic encounter as fucking some dark haired, blue-eyed scoundrel in the dark next to row of high school letterman jackets that smell like douchery and Axe body spray, and a vacuum that hadn't been used since 1962."
"Ha, ha" Killian deadpanned.
Heading toward the door, she put her sandwich down on the table smiling at the smaller motorcycle helmet upturned next to Killian's, a swan custom painted on the back. She juggled her phone awkwardly while sliding on her jacket; it had shown up the same day as the helmet, hanging on the peg in the foyer. Black leather to match his, cut to hide her sidearm and the cuff case she wore clipped to the back of her waistband. Not one to be comfortable with accepting lavish presents after years of unwrapping either perfunctory foster kid gifts like socks or absolutely nothing on birthdays and Christmas, she'd repaid him in kind. She wasn't sure what he'd enjoyed more – the new shoulder holster or the ambush blowjob when he'd arrived home from work that day.
"I'm out the door. Do you have time to meet and talk about this in person? I don't like the idea of you going into this uncomfortable." Emma pulled on her boots and, grabbing her sandwich and taking a healthy and only slightly inhaling bit, went outside. Her car was backed right up to the front porch, driver's door closest to the house and she felt a little swell at his thoughtfulness and saving her from a trek in the mud as she climbed in.
"I'd love to see you but I'm not sure I'll have the time. I'm trying to discern how to wear a bloody wire to this thing without it being completely obvious."
"You know those buttons on your shirt serve an actual function, right? They're not just decorative." Finishing her lunch, Emma started the car and let it idle.
"Kick a man while he's down why don't you, Swan." He sounded significantly more upbeat than before their banter. "And I don't recall you complaining about the manner in which I choose to wear my shirts when it serves to make your job of undressing me easier. Plus, it leaves that many more buttons attached when you get impatient and tear them open."
"I've never done that," she grumbled. "More than twice."
He chuckled.
"Trust me, I'm not complaining, darling. Just merely pointing out the benefits my personal style provides. Unfortunately, that doesn't include standard surveillance equipment."
Emma's hand slammed into her steering wheel at that.
"Guess who happens to have a stash of non-standard surveillance equipment and just the thing you need?"
"Your love and devotion is all I need, Swan."
She could almost hear the dramatic placement of hand over heart through the phone.
"You're an idiot."
"Ah, but I'm your idiot."
"Ah," she mimicked, "But my love and devotion won't get you through this meeting."
He mumbled a response. It sounded like yes, they will but she couldn't be sure.
"If you grab the bag on the right side under my desk in the task force room, I can meet you halfway to save time and get you hooked up." She put the car in gear and started to roll, telling Killian to meet her at the out-of-the-way lot the task force had been using as an off-site meeting place.
"This is quite impressive, Swan," Killian said as she reached up to tuck the transmitter under his collar. The tiny microphone was already on the clasp of his watch, mostly hidden by sleeve and designed to look like nothing more than a button to aid in the undoing of the band.
"Yeah, well, one cannot excel at catching bail jumpers through LBDs and FMPs alone."
"The mental image is almost enough for me to wish to have met you under less savory circumstances."
"A few un-ticketed moving violations and a DUI you were allowed to skate on thanks to my generous nature and ability to recognize a kindred, fucked up spirit hardly qualifies as savory circumstances, Jones."
He looked down at her while she was preoccupied fiddling with his jacket, breathing in her presence like it was air and, in a way, he supposed she was. The trepidation of seeing Milah had been halved just knowing Emma would be near, and then seemingly halved again when she climbed out of her car and bounded up to him, going on tip toes to drop a quick kiss and elbowing him out of the way to paw through her bag of goodies.
He couldn't find a hint of discontent in her eyes that he would be seeing Milah again after all these years. Quite the opposite, actually. She was completely giddy over the idea that he could be bringing the department one step closer to bringing down Dreamshade, and waved off his suggestion that it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't brought in the surveillance photo.
"Please. Someone else would have gotten the shot. Or she would have reached out to you eventually, even without getting made. It appears she shares her cohorts' interest in the theatrical." Emma ran her hands down his chest where he caught them in his own, dropping his forehead onto hers as he moved toward her.
He swayed her back and forth, closing his eyes and trying to ground himself in the feel of her against him. In another time and place he'd be enjoying the proximity in a wholly different way but Killian wanted nothing more than to relish the quiet moment. Just the two of them in the here and now before he went to face a piece of his past that had somehow wormed its way back into his life.
His mind started to race with all of the what ifs, wondering what she'd reveal and how he would react. He didn't know if he could handle having Liam's death shoved in his face once more by a member of that infernal organization.
"Hey." Emma's voice broke him out of his preoccupation. He'd been squeezing her fingers without realizing it and released them with profuse apology. She reached up and touched his face, fingers soothing the clenching muscles of his jaw and thumb tracing just under his cheekbone. "I know this won't be easy. And that it's hard to separate personal from professional with this one because of all of the unknowns. But you'll get through it. We'll all be listening in and just a few steps away."
Killian stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, stopping to scratch behind his ear.
"I told you she wasted no time bringing things around to the proverbial mattress. Going in there and playing on our history has both benefit and drawback, especially since I took Liam's suggestion and left it behind the minute she walked. What if you hear something you don't like, Swan?"
Emma looked surprised before her expression softened into understanding.
"Are you worried I'll be jealous?"
"Well…"
"Oh, Killian. Now's not the time for jealousy." Emma's shoulders shook as she laughed and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. "Do you want to fuck her?"
"What? Hell, no." Killian couldn't help but physically recoil at the idea.
"Do you love me?"
"More than anything." He said it simply, out of habit, and with no room for argument, not that the extra measure was necessary now that Emma hadn't fought his feelings for her in quite some time.
She stepped up to him, closing the distance he'd put between them.
"Then stop worrying about it. I care more about you staying safe in there than I do about your tactics to try and shut this shit down once and for all. You've lost more at their hands than anyone and you deserve closure."
He rushed forward, catching Emma's jaw in one hand and putting the other at her back, swallowing the last of her words as he kissed her. She indulged him for a moment, allowing him to tilt her head to his liking and flicking her tongue out to meet his.
With a breathy laugh she pulled away.
"Easy, tiger. We've got company." She nodded to the car pulling into the lot and waved at Robin behind the wheel. As he walked away, she caught his wrist, soothing her fingers over his racing pulse. "Good luck, Captain."
"Hello, love."
Killian could feel Milah's eyes on him as he stood by the stool next to her and placed a bottle of rum and two shot glasses on the bar. The dark, seedy tavern she'd chosen as a meeting place was surprisingly busy for a mid-afternoon and she looked wildly out of place in the dingy surroundings.
Always with a taste for the finer things in life and striving to push herself out of what she often referred to as a peasant's existence, Milah was exactly as he'd imagined; he surveyed her casually with a detective's eye, taking in her expensive, richly hued clothes – tight pants with a wide belt that accentuated her bust and blouse with sheer sleeves – and perfectly coiffed hair and heavy jewelry. If he didn't know better, it would be easy to buy the public persona she sold as the wife of an attorney with a successful pharmaceutical sales career of her own.
Pouring two shots, he held his up and waited until she picked up the other one, meeting his toast. The flavor of rum was familiar, as were the dive surroundings and the woman with whom he shared current company. It would have dinged the nostalgia receptors in his brain if he wasn't so busy attempting to look uninterested in how scrupulously Milah was looking him over, undoubtedly making first assumptions and cataloging details just as he had.
"Killian. My, my, the years certainly have been kind to you. If I'd known this was how you'd turn out, I might have stuck around."
Bitch.
"I'm surprised you agreed to meet." Milah's tongue slowly caressed her upper lip to catch a non-existent drop of excess rum. The move was slow and deliberate, and Killian was almost certain it was meant to bring to mind oral sex.
He had to give her props for pulling out all the stops. She didn't need to know there wasn't a damn thing she could do to get him to bite. Or lick or suck or bend her over the desk in the back office, and it was all he could do to not flinch when she reached out a long, manicured nail and dragged it down his chest and dipped it behind the last button done up on his flannel, no doubt looking for a wire. He sprawled onto the bar stool to her left as she fingered the cuff opposite the hidden microphone and slid the same finger over the back of his hand.
"I see you still have the shirt I gave you. You always were sentimental." Her eyes bored into his as if challenging him to respond to her touch. A million and a half years ago, he would have slid a palm up her thigh but couldn't bring himself to do it. He settled for twirling one of her curls and giving it a tug, pleased to see that the darkness no longer looked at home on his skin; not after months of falling in love with the sight of blonde sunshine wrapped both figuratively and literally around his fingers.
"Yes. Well, that was a special night. You gave me the shirt," he prompted, figuring it wasn't the time to point out keeping it had nothing to do with sentimentality and everything to do with practicality.
"And you gave me a ring," she finished. "So like you, Killian, to do the gift-giving on your own birthday." She sat back and poured two more shots. "Does the woman in your life now appreciate such gestures?"
Of course she knew of Emma.
"In her own way, I guess," he scoffed. To Milah's ears, it would sound dismissive. To Emma's he hoped it would sound like all of the other times he teased her when she became exasperated with what she referred to as her jacked-up lack of natural grace.
"Honeymoon over already? I've had some eyes and ears on your Detective Swan. She seems…prickly. But no doubt she makes up for that in other ways."
Killian picked up the shot she'd poured him and slammed it down, fingers gripping the glass so tightly he was afraid it would shatter. He wasn't naïve and knew Dreamshade was always lurking in the shadows, but he hated the idea that they were anywhere near Emma. And that a bunch of thieving, murdering assholes were judging her then running to Mommy to tattle. He poured another shot to avoid looking at Milah as he answered.
"That she does."
The rum burned Killian's throat but it couldn't burn away the shame he felt reducing Emma to a piece of ass on tape, even as a guise.
"Hmm. Lucky lady. I've been keeping tabs on you, too. You're quite a bit fierier than I recall. You showed such promise in bed all those years ago; I can only imagine how it would be now." She sat back and pouted after he caught her reaching hand before it could brush between his legs. "You always used to be up for anything, Killian." Her innuendo was clear. "Having a bit of trouble in that department these days?"
"Hardly, darling. But I wasn't under the impression this was a booty call." He poured Milah another drink and nudged it in her direction.
"So you're on the clock? Drinking on the job? Tsk, tsk, Captain. Maybe you're not such a goodie two-shoes after all."
Killian ran a hand through his hair. A breeze outside had flattened it somewhat, undoing the twisted unkemptness he'd given it in his office. He discreetly mussed it again, hoping to look the part of a rogue cop with a drinking problem. If she was going to jump to conclusions, he may as well use them to his advantage.
"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He made his tone low and breathy and raised an eyebrow.
"Old habits, I guess." Milah waved a hand. "Sometimes it's nice to come back to your roots. Let's not pretend you don't feel the same."
"And let's not pretend we both don't know you own this place and everyone in it." Killian popped the "t" and, instead of another shot, drank in the sight of her reaction to the truth and the subsequent attempt to school her features. "Come on, darling, did you think I wouldn't put it together? I may like my rum more than most other things but I didn't make Captain without having some degree of perception. And a few tricks up my sleeve."
Ah, there was the glint he wanted to see.
"Are you saying you climbed the ladder through nefarious purposes?"
Milah sounded almost proud and Killian shrugged, looking around furtively for show, not missing they were surrounded in a diamond pattern by her lackeys, and lowed his voice for the benefit of the ruse.
"Are you saying you didn't?"
She tilted her head coyly with an eyebrow raised and waited for him to continue.
"Perhaps. Certainly not as nefarious as some. I can play the hero part when needed but sometimes it's more fun to pillage and plunder your way through. But you'd know a thing or two about that. Am I right, darling?"
Her own "perhaps" was more loaded than a casual acknowledgement but nowhere near a confession and Killian knew that was the thread to pull. Milah wasn't looking to confess her sins. She wanted to gloat.
"How did you do it? How did you go from a typical girl in sweats and my tee shirts to looking like, well, this." He reached forward and placed a finger on the pendant nestled between her breasts, the faceted red stone straining to glint in the bar's dim light, pleased to see she soaked up both the compliment and his familiarity of touch. "And in an industry overrun with lost boys looking to belong and grown men looking for power. It must have been quite a change."
"One you didn't seem to notice," Milah snapped. The sudden change in her demeanor caught Killian off guard and he watched as she gripped the rum between them and took a healthy swig straight out of the bottle. The dull thunk of the heavy glass hitting the bar hard must have fed the angry beast he sensed was swimming just underneath her surface and she worked to school her features once more before speaking again.
"I went in when we were still together. We were both young and you were talking about going into the military. I didn't want to be stuck at home with a brat or two while you went off and sailed the world. I…met someone. Someone who could offer me more in life."
"Gold."
Milah looked surprised and Killian could sense the bodies surrounding them shift at the mention of the name.
"I suppose I should extend my condolences to you in the wake of his passing." Killian couldn't bring himself to put any sincerity into his words.
"Don't. Rumple and I-"she paused at his quizzical expression. "It's a nickname. Rumpelstiltskin. Gold." A blood-red fingernail tapped against the rum bobble as he made the connection and she continued. "We went our separate ways, at least personally, some time ago."
He sat up and squared off to the bar, letting his shoulder bump against hers companionably.
"Wanted different things?"
"Hardly." She bumped him back and re-crossed her legs, the toe of one boot running a short way down his shin. "More like the same things. Power. Money. Control. Plus, he'd already fallen head over heels for that bookish fetus he ended up marrying." The last part was all but snarled.
"You really don't like coming in second place." Killian forced a laugh and tipped another shot into her glass and tried to nudge it closer but she put her hand over his to stop him.
"No, I don't. But I'm a little light on local leadership. I could use a second in command. Someone who can come across as a knight in shining armor and doesn't arouse suspicion, but also doesn't mind getting it a little…tarnished once in a while to get things done."
"Is that a proposal? Because we already tried that once. Hey!" The slap to his upper leg was sharp but his yelp was more a veiled protest against the nails raking their way from his knee up the inside of his thigh.
"Think of it as a job offer. The pay is excellent."
"What about Peter? Isn't your faithful, hardworking attorney husband-brother doing everything he can to spring that little shit from the clink? Or will that be part of my job description?" The thought of putting Peter back out on the street made Killian's oath to protect and serve his community want to throw up a little in its mouth.
"I think Peter can stay right where he is so he's not in the way. So what do you say, Killian? Are you up for the job?" Milah's little finger toyed with the crease in his jeans but brushed back and forth just shy of his dick, pressing right up against the boundaries of his previous rebuke. "The benefits would be plentiful and to both of our satisfaction."
She'd been slowly inching closer and closer and the last word was breathed into his ear. The rum on her breath reminded him of every second he'd spent mourning Liam's death in the depths of a bottle. Of every morning he'd looked himself in the mirror with self-loathing, hung over or still half-drunk. The last thing he wanted to do was get in bed with Milah, if only figuratively. Even if there was no Emma, no sunshine wrapped around his fingers in the morning or her unique blend of feistiness and passion that made him want nothing more than to be a better man for her, he still wouldn't bite.
Milah didn't need to know that. Yet.
"Wouldn't that put you in second place once more, love?" She narrowed her eyes, unpleased with his teasing. Killian didn't wait for an answer and leaned away, discreetly elbowing her back and out of his personal space as he poured himself a shot to match the one left waiting on the bar and made a show of checking his watch.
For Liam. For Liam. For Liam. For Liam.
The mantra made what he was about to do much easier to swallow. The brass may not love the expense of something akin to an undercover operation but they'd eat up the accolades given to the department if it could take down the biggest organized crime gang in the state.
"Why don't you give me a day or two to handle some business? Maybe tie up some loose ends on the personal side to make some of this-" he let his eyes drift down to her cleavage, "-go a little smoother. Then we'll talk again about details." Holding up his glass, Killian waited until Milah nodded and brought hers up in a mutual salute.
He held her gaze as he knocked back the shot and bent quickly to brush his lips against her cheek. Ever the opportunist, she turned her head at the last second and he caught the corner of her mouth.
Ugh. There wasn't enough Listerine in the world to make him feel clean after that.
Heartily clapping the right hand point man nursing what looked like a club soda at the end of the bar on the back, Killian boldly turned and saluted the rest of the bar patrons, none of whom appeared to appreciate the gesture. A few middle fingers even went up in his direction – an ode to the group's general distain for police – but withered under Milah's gaze.
She had some degree of control over them. Good. That would come in handy as he took his place by her side at the top of the Dreamshade organization with every intention of watching gleefully as it crumbled to the ground.
He appeared to be hyped after the meeting, immediately radioing everyone listening in to congregate at 1300 hours the next afternoon for a briefing and strategy meeting. Emma, still off the clock, received a text asking her to meet him at home.
When she arrived, he was sprawled on their bed with his face buried in her pillow. The only sound in the room was music she recognized from a playlist he'd titled "Chill the Fuck Out." As Mindy Gledhill sang about anchors, Emma reached under his boots to find the laces and worked the knotted laces to pull them off, this socks following. She smiled when his toes wiggled in appreciation of their newfound freedom. It was unlike Killian to wear shoes in the house and Emma knew the meeting with Milah had taken its toll if he had forgone years of anal retention in a rush to face down/ass up it.
Climbing up next to him, she let him rearrange them both until he was comfortable.
"I'm going to hate every second of this, Swan." Killian's eyes were closed, his head tucked into the crook of her neck. The vehement tone was a direct contradiction to the next sound he made; a contented humming as she scratched her nails gently over his scalp.
"Probably," she agreed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Do you? It couldn't have been easy to listen in on some of that."
Pressing her lips against his forehead, Emma murmured against his skin, "This isn't about me."
Not that Killian was wrong. She could live the rest of her life never again fiddling with radio buttons, face burning as her coworkers were all but handed a pair of binoculars and invited to sneak a peek through the window at their sex life, or hearing another woman throw herself at him. Regardless, she believed he'd done a good job of drawing Milah in without directly engaging in her advances, and that knowing Killian, the swerving was in part to minimize the direct impact the tone of the meeting had on Emma. But she was more worried about him and the storm she could feel brewing just under the surface of his skin as he lay in her arms.
"Professionally, it's a solid direction. She may be heading things up now but she lacks leadership experience. I highly doubt she was anything but ornamental while Gold was in charge and keeping her in her place caused a rift between them."
He hitched a knee up, tucking one foot under her calf.
"The most lackey of the lackeys may pledge allegiance to whomever is at the top of the totem pole, but there's a lot to prove."
Pinned under his weight but not uncomfortable, Emma linked her fingers with his.
"It sounds like she's not jazzed about the idea of Peter seeing the light of day any time soon."
Killian moved his head slightly so he could watch his thumb rub over her knuckles. The gesture was soothing, and just as much so for him as it was for her she'd imagine.
"That's the only fucking thing she and I have in common now." He laughed humorlessly and fell into silence. Enough time passed that Emma thought he'd fallen asleep, the anxiety and crashing adrenaline finally pulling him under. As she started to drift off herself – the product of too-little sleep and a warm 170-pound human teddy bear wrapped around her – his fingers started tapping, nimbly working out the chords to the soft music playing in the background and using the back of her hand as his guitar.
"Professionally, it's solid," he said again. His finger stopped and he rolled away from her onto his back, hands coming up to massage his temples before sliding back into his hair. Emma propped herself up to be able to look at him.
"But personally…" she prompted.
"Personally, it feels wrong."
"Because of Liam." She said it as a statement and could see his chest fall with exhalation and his face soften in relief as she continued, ticking off every assumption she had. "Because helping the people who killed him regardless of how means-to-an-end it may be tears that wound back open a bit. Saying and doing things that go against the badge. Feeling like you're betraying me in order to get closer to her. Getting pawed at in a dark bar like a piece of meat."
The last one made him snort.
"Swan, you know me too well. It's all of that swirled together in a giant clusterfuck. I know it's all about playing a part but some of it puts me on a ledge I've stood on before but it feels even more risky. And falling isn't an option this time. I have too much to lose."
"Hey," Emma said gently, nudging his elbow. "If it's too much, just say so and we'll find another way. Nobody will think any less of you. They love you as much as they loved him. They won't want to do anything that would make them lose you, too."
Killian's eyes blinked rapidly and she could see the shine of tears just before a gross, exaggerated sniffle came out of his pretty face. Leaning over, she ran her nose against his temple and laughed as he caught her in his arms and dragged her down onto this chest.
"I love you so much." He breathed the words into her hair, the cadence matching the rhythm of his heartbeat at her ear. "This is gonna fucking suck."
"You all but told Milah you'd end things with me and my prickly self. That means there will be no fucking. Or sucking." She propped her chin up on his sternum just in time to catch the horrified look on his face and she busted out laughing. "Did you not consider that? She's a lot of things, but a dumbass isn't one of them. She's going to know if I'm still living here. And probably won't buy that we're just friends with no benefits."
"Well…now this sucks even more. Ow!" Killian flinched as she rolled slightly to the side and flicked his nipple.
"For who? I'm the one who has to play the part of the woman scorned. And ride it out staying on Will's couch. Hey!" Emma supposed she deserved the tug on her hair and was glad to see his mood lifting.
"Come now, Swan. I'm sure the good Detective would offer you his bed." His eyes shined with mirth and she knew he was thinking the exact same thing she was.
"Yeah, to sleep on the secretions of him and every other woman of a less platonic nature to whom he's offered his bed?" She shuddered at the thought. "You couldn't pay me to burn that thing to the ground and sleep on the ashes." She watched as he fiddled with the lock of her hair he'd pulled, twisting it around his fingers and shifted up and off, propping herself up onto her elbows. "Ugh, and the couch probably isn't that much better."
"I'd pretty much learn how to levitate and avoid touching any surface in the entire apartment if I were you." Killian cracked up at his own joke.
"You're rubbing an awful lot of salt in my wounds for a guy who's gonna break up with me and kick me out of his house."
"Aww, don't be too mad, darling. I'll stop by for a conjugal now and then. We'll just throw down a hazmat tarp. It can't be any less romantic than a drafty stairwell at the station." He slapped her ass.
There he was. Her Killian. They'd come so far putting each other's broken pieces back together and she hated the idea of a ghost from his past coming to the present to do more damage. It might take a bit of work to help him hold himself together this time around, but it was work she was ready to do.
"Is that the only drawback? The cramp in our sex life?" She reached out and dug a fingertip into his ribs, relishing when he jumped.
"I told you that cramp was from dehydration. And you'd already came twice, so I'll thank you to not remind me of the one time I couldn't finish." He pouted adorably and Emma knew he was deflecting. She waited, one eyebrow arched until he sighed.
"Fine. And maybe," he muttered.
She watched as he stretched, arching his back until a strip of belly peeked out between the bottom of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. When he settled again, it was still visible and she reached out, running her fingers over the soft hair covering his skin. He startled and grabbed her hand, probably assuming she was going in for another tickle.
"You know. It wouldn't hurt to practice those conjugals."
And just like that, the halting hand was gone and on his zipper.
"Men. So predictable." He didn't even try to look offended.
Emma smacked his hand away and took over the job, unfastening his pants but not going any further. Instead, she pushed up enough to drop a kiss onto his lips, hand pressed against his chest. His hand came up to meet hers, the wideness of his palm almost completely eclipsing hers completely.
"We'll get through this shit we've gotten through the rest of it pretty much since the damn day we met. Together."
Killian started to speak; the look on his face and the glint in his eyes betraying his intention to rib her for another elegantly stated heartfelt moment in the key of Emma Swan as he often put it. She stopped him in his wiseass tracks.
The kiss was slow and sweet; the kind she used to secretly envy while watching rom coms on sleepless nights after getting off and getting home from a one-night stand. For a long time, Emma had treated sex like a basic need. She didn't go full-on Pretty Woman and refuse to kiss on the mouth, but she wasn't going to waste precious time with a lot of it. Not when there were more direct ways to coax a partner to readiness.
With Killian it was different.
She kissed him thoroughly and reverently, pouring into it every ounce of devotion she felt, hoping it would seep into his bones to help carry him through the nights they'd be apart. As things grew more heated, his tongue curling around hers, he moved to roll her over onto her back but she stopped him. Sliding a knee across his hips, Emma moved to straddle them, bending down to lick and nibble the spot just below his ear before drawing back.
"Let me."
He nodded and allowed himself to be pulled up to a half-seated position. She slipped one arm behind him for support, while nimble fingers made quick work of the few fastened buttons on his shirt. As he worked his arms out of the sleeves, Emma ran her lips across his collarbone, relishing the flex of his back muscles under her hand. When he settled his head back onto the pillow again, she fell onto him, kissing and touching every inch of skin she could reach. She slowly kissed and laved her way down his chest and belly, spending extra time and effort on every spot she knew would make him gasp. Just as he started to arch into her, she moved down, slipping her fingertips down into the waistband of his boxers and walking back on her knees to pull the rest of his clothes off and went to remove her own.
Placing one hand on each of his ankles, she slid forward fingers gliding over calves and thighs until she was on her knees between his sprawled legs, hovering over his cock. He was already hard and she could see his throat work when she gathered her hair and pulled it over one shoulder. Holding his gaze, she bent her head and licked the inside of one thigh and raked her nails lightly over the inside of the other.
Emma could have been wicked about it, teasing Killian mercilessly until he couldn't take it anymore and grabbed fistfuls of her hair to guide her where he wanted her, thrusting up into her mouth with no preamble. Instead, she slipped her hand around him and swirled her tongue up and over the tip of him before taking him as deeply into the warm wetness as she could. She loved doing this for him, either taking charge or playing the submissive, and no matter the mood of the moment, he watched her with the same intense fire in his eyes every time. But in this moment, bringing him to the brink just to see him writhing under her, begging to have her or spill into her mouth wasn't the objective.
With a few final twists of her wrist and long, languid slides up and down his length, Emma kissed her way back up his belly, placing her knees on the outside of his hips once more. His hands slid up her thighs; his only concession to her direction to let her lead and it was more than welcome. She moved against him, the slickness between her legs slipping over his cock, testing out a rhythm until his fingertips dug into her skin and his eyes fluttered closed.
Taking his hands in hers, she leaned forward, pushing his arms over his head and linking their fingers together. With a small adjustment she was sinking down onto him taking every inch, their noses touching as she started to roll against him. Maybe it was the heightened emotions of the day or the looming and hopefully temporary separation but Emma found herself overwhelmed by all of the sensations. She faltered, elbows coming down to his shoulders and Killian let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her.
Tucking her face into the crook of his neck as they rocked together, she whispered nothing and everything in his ear. There was no rush or urgency to finish and by the time she felt the pull of a lazy orgasm and Killian had slipped a hand between their sweat-soaked bodies to push her over the edge, she barely had time to tell him how much she loved him before he took her breath away, and she returned the favor.