Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

"I ain't working with her!"

"Oh, yes. Yes, you are."

"No, no, _no_. Sorry, sis, but even I have my limits."

"Really? Where did you find those? See, I know you must have _found_ them because you don't have the money to actually buy… well, anything."

"You're exaggerating, lass." Killian rolled his eyes at his sister, no, his _agent_, she was 100% in agent mode right now.

Funny thing though - no matter which part she was playing, Ruby Jones was always a pain in his ass.

"I'm not broke, Ruby. I'm just not gonna be buying you a new Ferrari anytime soon."

Something dangerous, almost animalistic, flashed in the brunette's eyes. Something that Killian was usually delighted to see because it meant she was going to hunt down one hell of a role for him. Something that right now, as his little sister stalked towards him in her blood-red 6-inch heels, scared him more than a little bit.

"Yeah, you are!" she said once again, literally shoving the contract in his face.

* * *

"No way in hell, David!"

David Nolan took a seat on the black leather couch behind him and with a groan let his head drop in his hands. If there was one nightmare that all agents shared it was a stubborn actor and he had been living the nightmare for the last six years. Oh, he loved the girl but to say she was difficult was a bit of un understatement.

"Emma, please, if you let this chance pass you by, you're going to regret it. I'm _begging_ you here."

"Which part of me wanting to be taken seriously did you not understand?"

"This is exactly _why_ you have to take the part. This movie is not your typical action-packed blockbuster that will blow over in a week. It's going to open you the door to a whole new side of the industry."

"Ugh," Emma Swan buried her hands in her blonde locks and pulled in frustration. "I cannot believe they want to cast that idiot!"

* * *

"Of course, they want to cast her! She's Hollywood's golden princess," Killian spat out the word. "Bloody hell! This is it, this is how I'm going to go down."

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen!" Ruby crossed her arms over her chest, glaring down at the brunet who was spread out on the hammock hung in the middle of his living room, hands on the back of his head, swaying leisurely as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Easy for you to say, you won't be the one working with her every bloody day," muttered her brother like a petulant child. "I'm pretty sure she is the most stuck-up creature in the damn industry. And this is Hollywood, Ruby! Having a stick up your ass is basically a given, it's just the size of the stick that you have to worry about. And her stick is rumoured to be the biggest one out there."

"Yeah, well, _your _stick is rumoured to have been all over there so I don't think you should be throwing stones."

Ruby cut of his leer before it could even fully form.

"Killian, you need that role," she stated, voice growing more serious than exasperated, lips pressing into a thin line. "Unless you want to be doing romantic comedies for the rest of your miserable life."

All she got in response was a groan and her brother trying to turn his back on her. Which ultimately resulted in him tumbling from his hammock right onto the unforgiving floor.

"If you break that pretty face of yours, I won't even be able to get you in on a jell-o commercial."

* * *

"I'm not playing beside some stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking 'bad boy'. And, no, I don't _care _how hot he is."

"You have to stop quoting that movie. You weren't even in it!" groaned David even as his eyes danced with amusement.

"Only because it was made two years before I was born," fired back the blonde, sticking up her nose. "See,_ that_ was a hit! A legend! I need something like this, David. And I'm not going to get it while working beside some second-rate drool-magnet. I have to work next to people with real talent, not people with… "

Emma scrunched up her nose. Dammit she was running out of insults. It was a bit hard considering that she hadn't _technically_ even met the guy yet.

"with… pants… panties… panties-dropping talents!" she exclaimed, probably more pleased with herself than she ought to be, before focusing David with a serious look. "I need something life-changing."

"I know," sighed her agent, eyes softening with understanding. "And I need you to trust me when I tell you that this could be it, Emms."

* * *

"… Do you have the script already?"

Ruby's triumphant grin did not sit well with Killian Jones. It was his turn to stalk forward, wagging his finger in his sister's smug face.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, Ruby. I'm not happy about this. I'm in it for the money, sister!"

"You'll get it."

"I better!"

* * *

"… Do you have the script already?"

David was seconds away from fist-pumping the air. Emma rolled her eyes, pointing her perfectly manicured finger at him, eyes flashing in warning.

"I'm going to have your head, if this is not the movie revolution you've promised me."

"It will be."

"It better!"

* * *

Belle French burst in her boss's office, hair bouncing all over, eyes shining with excitement, beaming with her good news.

"We got them!" she exclaimed, linking her arms behind her back and doing her best not to start bouncing around. "Swan and Jones have both signed a contact."

"Good."

The girl's smile fell slightly at the emotionless response but she just gave a nod and made her way back out of the door.

"Good. We now have a deal."

* * *

She was late. She was so fucking late.

Emma's heels hit the pavement as she jogged towards the studio's entrance, clutching her Starbucks as if it was a lifeline. She was sweaty, she was hungry, she was tired and she was _so late_.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot!_

Soon enough she was in the heart of the chaos, people hurrying all around her, some not even noticing her, others staring as they passed her by, and some glancing back with raised eyebrows once they realized she looked familiar.

_Yeah, only minus any make-up and a proper shower._

Emma ran a hand through her already disheveled hair, struggling to catch her breath and willing her flushed cheeks to return to their normal colour.

_Great job, Emma! You wanna be taken seriously? How about you start by coming to work on time?_

Cursing under her breath, she almost collided with the person in front of her.

"Hey! Watch it, buddy!" she snapped at the unsuspecting and unlucky stranger.

Alright, so maybe that was actually her fault. She was having a bad day so sue her.

"Bloody hell!" the accented voice reached her ears as she felt the warm hand on her arm trying to steady her. "Easy there, lass."

The blonde finally looked up. _Oh!_ She had heard that the bastard was attractive but this was ridiculous. Those eyes in particular.

However, before Emma could really get lost in the ocean that was Killian Jones' gaze, he had snatched the coffee out of her hand and taken a generous gulp. She couldn't stop the little indignant gasp or the way her jaw remained hanging in shock afterwards.

_What the actual f-_

"I prefer it with sugar," he drowned out, handling her back the cup and licking his insanely full lips. "Don't worry you'll learn."

Snapping her mouth shut, Emma scoffed and gave him the sweetest fakest smile she had.

"I've worked with some real dickheads but not knowing your own co-stars has to be a new low," she gritted out, pretty sure that he would start smoking from the heat of her glare any second now.

"Oh!" Killian's eyes widened and he let out an over-dramatic gasp.

_Dear God, if those are his acting skills this movie is already doomed._

"My apologies, princess, they must have gone too far with the airbrushing on those photos I saw."

"Lovely. And here I thought you couldn't be worse than I imagined."

Suddenly Killian Jones was so far into her personal space that Emma had to take a step back, glaring up at his smug face.

"Well, darling," he murmured, leaning towards her ear. "You should… _exercise_ your imagination more."

Emma growled in warning at the part of her that wanted to swoon at the way his tongue wrapped around the word 'exercise'.

_Gagging, Emma! Gagging in disgust is the appropriate reaction. Geez! He's an asshole and you _know _it._

"And you should really mind your own business," she hissed at the brunet. "And while we're at it, let me tell you what else you should do. You should keep your cheap cologne and overused innuendos as far away from me as possible. Because, frankly, I have absolutely no desire to communicate with you. In any way. But since obviously I will have to, you can bet your over-confident ass that I'm going to make damn sure our interactions are brought down to the bare minimum. Basically? If you're not shooting a scene with me? You do not exist. And I'm ridiculously happy about it."

"Oh, you're tough lass."

Killian leaned back a bit, humming and obviously sizing her up, surprise and something suspiciously close to respect shining in his eyes. And then he was once again in her face, breath hot and smelling of peppermint.

"But worry not, I love a challenge," and with a grin and an infuriating wink he was sauntering away before the blonde could scoff at him once more for good measure.

"Ugh," Emma shook her head, trying to control the rage radiating from every pore of her being. "No movie is worth _this_!"


	2. Chapter 2

The second time Emma saw Killian Jones was just a few short hours later (way less than she would have liked) and he was supposed to be shooting his first scene. An action scene. If she had any luck he might just break a leg (literally) and put her out of her misery.

_Yeah, right. While sitting in his chair and complaining about how his stunt double looks nothing like him._

Making her way to where they were shooting Emma frowned as the scene before her. Eyes rising up, up, up, all the way to Killian, who had his feet planted firmly on a platform more than 60 feet above her. He was talking to the guy next to him, joking and laughing and then he was jumping. His face was set in concentration but there was something reckless about the excitement in his eyes. Before Emma could register the ropes securing him, a sharp gasp left her lips and she lurched forward just as his fall slowed and he landed gracefully on his feet, knees bent slightly, head down, panting for the benefit of the rolling cameras. And then he lifted his gaze and damn if she didn't think that look just might melt those cameras pointed at him.

The sound that came from her was a combination between an annoyed huff and a relieved sigh. Not that she gave a rat's ass about the guy but seeing that he was in fact doing his own stunts she now felt a twinge of guilt for her previous thoughts.

_Great! Now if he does break something, I'm gonna feel like the worst person in the world._

Shaking her head in frustration, Emma turned her attention back to the man in question, who was preparing for another take. She was impressed despite herself. Few actors did their own stunts these days. Especially actors that needed to keep their faces intact to make money. Although, as Killian bent down, Emma had to admit that it probably wasn't just his face that was making him money. She unconsciously tilted her head to the side, the brunet's white t-shirt and black jeans leaving little to her imagination. Yet it was still starting to run away from her when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey," the brunette behind her gave Emma a huge smile. "I'm Ruby."

There was something wild about the girl, something _free_. She was the definition of devious and sexy yet with a kind of innocence to her smile that almost made Emma wistful. She liked her. She didn't know why because she rarely liked people, especially so quickly, but somehow she was absolutely positive that she liked Ruby.

"Hey," Emma returned her smile. "Are you in the movie or…?"

"Oh, no, no," Ruby shook her head with a laugh. "I wish! I'm that idiot's agent."

Emma followed her finger, eyes landing on Killian's back.

_Of course._

"And his sister."

_Well, that explains the hotness factor… Emma, you did not just think that!_

"Right," was all she managed, deciding that Ruby (and Ruby only!) must have taken all the good genes in the family.

"I know," laughed the brunette again. "Trust me, _I know_. You're Emma Swan, right?"

"Oh, yeah, I am. Sorry," she apologized, realizing that she had yet to introduce herself.

"Nah, it's alright," said Ruby, waving away her apology and winking at her. "I know my brother can be a bit of a distraction."

_So the annoying gene must have been inescapable._

"That's not-"

"No, no, I didn't mean that you like him. I'm pretty sure you hate him," Ruby rushed to explain, the smile never dropping from her face. "I mean, he was certainly "excited" to work with _you_. But even if Killian is a complete moron, he is a pretty gorgeous moron so girls' eyes tend to… you know, drift against their will."

"Well, my will is pretty strong so," stated Emma, arms crossing over her chest as the guy himself approached them, throwing an arm around his sister's shoulders.

"Came to check up on me?" he asked, taking a few deep breaths and wiping the sweat off his forehead.

Ruby rolled her eyes and pulled a disgusted face while trying to shake him off, making Emma lower her head a bit to hide her amused grin.

"You stink!" declared Ruby, finally managing to put a satisfying distance between them.

"I packed my lunch, tied my shoelaces, looked both ways while crossing the street and came on time," Killian recited in a little boy's voice, completely ignoring her comment before focusing his eyes on Emma and grinning evilly. "Unlike some people."

The blonde just rolled her eyes, turning back to the other girl.

"My condolences."

"Oh, honey," Ruby moved closer, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a sympathetic smile. "Trust me, those should be for you."

And before either actor could express their indignation Ruby was waving them goodbye and grinning wickedly as she called back.

"Nice meeting you, Emma! We should grab a tequila shot or ten sometime. Meanwhile, try not to kill each other!"

* * *

The next time Emma saw Killian Jones he was naked save for the white tower that hung dangerously low on his hips. She didn't care what the smug bastard might claim later, she did _not _stare for more than ten seconds.

But, boy, she could have. She could have grabbed a chair and a margarita and stared at him all day. Broad shoulders, toned stomach, a trail starting from his chest hair (which was doing ridiculous things to her right about now) and disappearing beneath that damn towel, muscular arms, not too bulky but just enough to let Emma know that he could lift her up over his head and-

"Well?"

"Sorry, what?" Emma blinked at him, trying her best to bury the images that had just invaded her mind as deep as possible.

Judging by his amused grin, she wasn't doing a very good job.

"Something on your mind, lass?" he drawled out.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering what the current #1 pain in my ass was doing in front of my trailer. In nothing but a towel."

_Now attempt a disgusted face and do not let your eyes drift. Strong will, Emma! Remember strong will._

"I knew I would become your #1, Swan. Just didn't expect it to be so soon," he winked at her but before she could fire a reply his infuriating grin dropped into a frustrated frown. "My shower's not working. And as you can see, I really need one."

Oh, she did see. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and was still slightly out of breath, which she guessed she would be too, if she had been jumping of this and that and running here and there for the last three hours.

"And why does that equate to me having to bare your stench?" she growled out because _she did not like the guy_ and she did not like being impressed by somebody she didn't like.

He opened his mouth, eyes blazing, and somehow she was already used to those snark matches and felt a sliver of anticipation form in the pit of her stomach.

_We've known each other for a day for crying out loud!_

But then his mouth snapped shut and he looked her up and down, lips pursed in indecision. He wanted to bicker with her just as much as she did and she knew it. But instead Killian rotated his shoulders, pulling a face, and let out a tired sigh before giving her an almost apologetic smile.

"Right. Sorry, lass, must have overestimated your good will," he said without bite, turning to head back to his trailer.

_Oh, come on! Being a half-decent human being and expecting me to be one too is just cheating. _

"Ugh. Fine!" she called out after him, disgusted by her own weakness. "You can use my shower but, I swear to God, if I find out that yours has been working perfectly well the whole time."

Killian turned around, quickly jogging back to her.

"It's not!" he promised, drawing a quick cross over his heart before giving her a winning smile.

"You have ten minutes and then I'm kicking you out, towel or no towel," she warned, finger pointed at his stupid happy face.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said, slowly moving closer before bypassing her and making for her bathroom. "I knew you couldn't be that much of a stuck up ice-bitch."

"Ah, you dirty little-"

But before she could throw him out on his ass he had shut and locked the door and soon enough Emma could hear the shower running and the infuriating bastard in it humming some equally infuriating song .

She had to get out of there. Mostly because it sounded like he was good.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma frowned at the Starbucks cup that was sitting in front of her trailer the next morning, patiently waiting for her. She bent down, picking it up and reading the words written hastily and way too elegantly on the holder – "Thanks for the shower". The blonde's cheeks flared up and she instinctively glanced around to make sure she was alone, her gaze hardening as she imagined all the people that could have passed from here and seen the obscure message.

_Smug bastard! I'm letting him sit in his filth next time!_

She was half way to the trashcan before she decided to take a sip of whatever was inside, spearing the idea that it might very well be something poisonous a quick thought before the warm liquid filled her mouth, caressing her taste buds and awakening her being. Dammit! The idiot had remembered how she drank her coffee.

Emma turned away from the bin with a frustrated growl. Throwing away perfectly good coffee was a travesty she was not willing to engage in no matter how annoying the source it came from. As she sipped her drink she tried to ignore the thought that she should introduce him to the magic that was hot chocolate with cinnamon.

* * *

"All done!" Mary-Margaret beamed at Emma as she put the finishing touches to her make-up.

"Thank you!" smiled the blonde.

She usually didn't get close to the people she worked with, neither her co-stars, nor the rest of the crew. But Mary-Margaret had such soft eyes, such an open face and such a welcoming smile that shutting her down had seemed just too cruel. Now Emma was afraid that the woman was starting to consider her a friend and as the thought lodged itself in her mind, she gave her another awkward smile and made her way to set.

She was shooting her first scene with Killian Jones. If it could be called that.

* * *

"Cut! Cut! Cut! Miss Swan, have you read your script at all?" came the director's venomous voice, making Emma clench her teeth and try to keep her mouth shut.

_I was up reading my script till 3am, thank you very much._

"It says you glance at him. You _glance_, Miss Swan. Shall I get you a dictionary? That implies a passing, quick look not the stare-fest you and Mr Jones have been engaging in while wasting all our time."

"I thought-" Emma started to respond.

"I would love to discuss the script you supposedly read and hear all your genius ideas over tea and biscuits but sadly I'm too busy trying to shoot a movie here. Care to join me?"

_I thought it ridiculous that in ten minutes you would want my character to be absolutely fascinated with this guy who she supposedly didn't bother to keep her eyes on for more than five seconds._

But Emma kept her mouth shut this time, because she could guess what arguing would get her. Best case scenario – nothing, worst case scenario-

"Come on now, Mills, can you blame the girl for having trouble with tearing her eyes away from me?"

\- the look on Regina Mills' face right now.

Most of the crew shared a low chuckle, the comment lightening the somber mood slightly.

_And Mister Self-esteem strikes again._

But before Emma could find something sharp enough to aim at Killian Jones, she met his gaze. And realized with a start that he was actually trying to stick up for her. In his own completely inappropriate I'm-an-overconfident-prick way, of course. But still…

_Well, that's a first..._

The sad part? It wasn't a first with him, or a first on a movie set, it was a first in her life.

* * *

There was officially somebody Emma and Killian disliked more than each other on set. The film's director, Regina Mills, had devoted the rest of the day to making sure of that. And the actress was pretty sure that they weren't the only ones who already hated the woman's guts. Honestly, if she passed her on the stairs somewhere Emma wasn't sure if she would be able to resists tripping the bitch.

Shaking the childish thought from her head, she grabbed her purse, starting towards the exit only to find David there. Deep in conversation with no other but her now #2 pain in the ass.

"David?" she said, probably a little more accusatorily than could be expected, when she was only a couple of feet from them.

"Oh, hey!" the blond looked at her guiltily, taking a step back from Killian and shooting him a weird look.

_What the hell?_

"Are you trying to steal my agent?!"

Emma had considerable trouble closing her mouth.

_What the actual fuck? This has to be the lamest way to attack somebody._

She frowned at the feeling of betrayal that had quickly spread through her entire body, making her eyes go cold as she directed them towards the man she had actually started to not completely despise.

_Because you are an idiot._

Killian's deep laughter, only made her blood hotter as it rushed to her cheeks despite Emma's desire to remain absolutely unaffected by whatever scheme he had conjured up to mess with her already messed-up life.

"Swan, I'm trying to set him up," he managed to get out between his snorts of laughter and it was David's turn to blush.

"Huh?" was all Emma was capable of coming up with at that point.

"Well, I-I just… You see…" David looked down, shuffling his feet like a young boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

_More like caught with a collection of Playboys under his bed._

"He asked me if I knew Mary-Margaret," said Killian, coming to his new friend's rescue. "I told him that she was the make-up girl but that you were the one to ask for more inside information."

Upon David's curious look Emma opened her mouth to deny knowing Mary-Margaret at all but the hint of hopefulness in his eyes stopped her. Letting out a sigh of defeat, she stuck her hands in her pockets, trying to appear as relaxed and nonchalant as possible and gave her agent a slight nod. David's eyebrows shot up, surprise taking over his face, just as she had expected. Emma did not play well with others and he knew it. But there was a smile tugging at his lips too so she couldn't make herself completely regret the admission that yes, she did actually know how to communicate with people.

"I also might have suggested that we all go out for drinks," cut in Killian, defusing the tension with an easy grin. "And that, given my deviously good looks, there was no way you would turn down such an offer."

Emma knew that it was about time she stopped being surprised by the guy's ego but she just couldn't help it.

"I'm NOT going on a double date with you and Mary-Margaret and David!"

The light that entered Killian's eyes, making them twinkle with amusement, did not bode well for her.

"Actually," he drawled out, biting his lip and smirking at her in a way that could only be described as sinful. "I was going to ask my sister to come along and tell you to bring anyone you want. You know, make it less suspicious so that MM doesn't get wind of Dave's little crush here."

Emma could already feel the embarrassment and repressed aggression rolling off of her in waves and was almost impressed by the guy's nerve as stepped closer to her, wiggling his eyebrows and shooting her an absolutely smoldering look.

"But if you would like something more… private," his lips wrapped around the word in a way clearly designed to make her knees weaken. "You just have to say the word, lass."

"The only private encounter you would get, Jones, is with my fist," she fired back, instinctively invading his personal space too so that their noses were almost touching.

"Alright!" David clapped his hands together, an uncomfortable and slightly suspicious look on his face.

Emma took a step back, realizing just how close she had been to the walking sexual innuendo in front of her.

"Know what, David?" she said, turning towards her agent with a grin that was just a little too big to be real. "I'm in! And unlike some people I'm not just being an annoying little shit, I actually really think you and Mary-Margaret would hit off."

"Oh, well, great!" David still looked at her with a bit of apprehension but his excitement had been sparkled. "When would you guys all be free?"

Now that was a tough one but eventually Killian and Emma agreed that they would all be able to let loose for a couple of hours next Saturday.

"Great!" exclaimed David again, shooting them another huge grin. "Thanks, Ems! Killian, nice meeting you!"

"Nice meeting you too, mate," replied the brunet with a genuine smile and shook the other man's hand.

"Your agent's alright," he told Emma when David had already left. "Bet you drive him up the bloody wall."

Emma rolled her eyes, focusing on their plans instead of dignifying him with a response.

"Just make sure your sister isn't suddenly 'unavailable' next week?"

"Well, Swan, if you are so concerned about me tricking you into some lameass double date, why don't you just invite a friend of yours to tag along?"

The blonde's gaze shifted for a second, something bleak and broken flashing in her eyes before it was gone, locked away, and she was left hoping he hadn't noticed.

"Killian, just bring Ruby, alright?" her voice was in no way pleading but there was no bite to it, no energy, no nothing.

"Alright," he nodded, watching her walk away without another word.

Dammit! He had noticed.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you are having fun so far! I was quite excited about this and have an idea of where it's going but my #1 priority is that anyone and everyone who is taking the time to read it enjoys the ride. :))


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the long delay! This one took some time but I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end. Hope you like it! :))

* * *

Emma let out a groan as she finally slipped off her heels and made her way towards the kitchen, mind already on the bottle of wine in her fridge and as far away from Saturday as possible.

_It's just one night. Just a couple of drinks. Get it together, Swan!_

Only it was more than that. It was the first night in years she was going out just to have fun.

_God! Had it really been years?_

It wasn't a semi-business meeting with David, it wasn't an interview or a movie premiere. It was just… drinks. With fri-

_With _people_. Most of which you don't know. One of which you cannot stand!_

And ten days were not enough to change that.

* * *

_Thursday_

So she bought Mary-Margaret coffee. What was the big deal? Going by the other woman's blinding smile, you would think she had gotten her a fucking Ferrari. She wasn't being nice, it was a strategic move - get the girl on her good side, create some sort of fictitious bond, make her feel comfortable so that she could grill her when the time came and make sure she wasn't going to go and break David's heart.

Although, if Emma was being perfectly honest with herself (which she rarely was), she had to admit that she just couldn't picture the sweet brunette breaking anything. Let alone another person.

Mary-Margaret was the definition of positivity. Emma had actually been tempted to follow Regina's smartass suggestion and crack open a dictionary just to see if the make-up artist's photo was inside. The girl was so damn optimistic and energetic. It almost made Emma sick. Only she was also so kind and compassionate that the blonde couldn't find it in herself to actively dislike a single bone in her body. She was the person everybody on set seemed to go to for advice. Or when they needed someone to cover for them. Or when they had just been yelled at by Regina. Or when they had a mild hangover. Or a broken heart. And she welcomed everybody with a sympathetic smile and an assortment of tissues.

Emma and Killian (and Regina, of course) seemed to be the only people who did not look at Mary-Margaret as if she was a benevolent queen with a fix for every problem.

_Probably because we know better._

Emma scrunched up her nose in distaste. It was thoughts like that which forced her to glare at her co-star that much harder. Emma Swan did not think in the plural. No matter the circumstances.

And maybe on some level she had bought Mary-Margaret coffee just to stress the point that she _hadn't bought Killian one_. And maybe it was petty. And childish. And ridiculous. But the desire to get the bastard a hot chocolate while she had been waiting for her order that morning had been pretty damn strong and she had to push it down and make up for the unforgivable slip.

At least she was determined.

_Friday_

She had to film a scene with Killian. A scene where they danced. With each other.

Now Emma was very strict about what she put in her resume. And she knew that there was nothing mentioning dancing skills in there. Of course, when she had actually let Regina know that, the brunette had just rolled her eyes and told her all she had to do was sway around for a couple of minutes and twirl three times.

Emma was not reassured. Partly because Regina Mills was anything but reassuring, partly because she had no patience for Mary-Margaret's encouraging speeches and mostly because she didn't have a single dancing lesson under her belt.

Acting required confidence. And for the very first time Emma Swan didn't possess an ounce of that.

"Excited, luv?" the voice was millimeters away from her ear and she could literally feel the puff of air on her neck as the man behind her let out an amused chuckle.

Quickly putting as much space between them as possible, Emma glared at Killian Jones.

"Immensely," she drawled out.

"You should be. I'm a good dancer."

_Great! Just what I needed._

"Sorry to bust your bubble but this is not supposed to be the kind of grinding you practice with scantily-clad college dropouts in badly lit bars smelling of cheap alcohol and even cheaper perfume," fired Emma, trying to infuse her words with as much sarcasm as humanly possible and bury the panic inside her that he might actually be any good.

_Because it's just not fair._

"Wow!" Killian's eyebrows almost reached his hairline, there was laughter dancing in his eyes and a shit-eating grin splitting his stupid face. "Take a breath, lass. I don't want you passing out because of anything other than the shock from my dancing abilities."

Emma just rolled her eyes, trying to take the actually much-needed deep breath as inconspicuously as possible. She jumped in surprise when realizing that he had moved closer again and was trying to take her hands.

_What the actual fuck?_

"What do you think you are doing?" she demanded, wrenching free from his grasp but standing her ground.

"Relax, Swan," he said, obviously not fazed. "I thought you wouldn't appreciate the whole crew being there for our first dance."

Before she could come up with a reply he once again grabbed her hands, a bit firmer this time, placing one on his shoulder as his right arm found its way around her waist.

"Just picture it," he whispered, as he adjusted his hold and finally looked her in the eyes. "The lazy melody, the dimly lit club, the cigar smoke, the excitement of being caught in another man's ar-"

"I've read my script, Jones!" she snapped at him.

"Well, I'm sure Miss Mills will be happy to hear that," he replied without missing a beat.

And then he was tugging her that little bit closer and moving backwards and she instinctively followed him. To the left. Then forwards again. It was ridiculous but she could almost hear the music. It felt like sailing. Sailing on a calm, sunny day, with the wind swaying her this way and that way.

_Why, of course, Emma! Get all poetical on the asshole._

"When it comes to this, there's only one rule – pick a partner who knows what he is doing."

His light voice seemed to break her out of the spell she had let herself fall under. Pulling back, Emma tried to rediscover the concept of personal space and ignore the half-annoyed, half-disappointed look on the brunet's face.

"Good to know," she muttered. "I'm glad you are not full of hot air for once. We might actually pull this off."

_Because if it was only up to me, it would be painful to watch._

With a tight-lipped smile and a little nod Emma turned to go but Killian's voice followed her.

"Fuck what your resume says, Swan," he said with a fervour that surprised her enough to slow down her pace. "I believe you are a natural."

Emma tried really hard to suppress her eye-roll and she continued towards her trailer.

_Because you are such an expert on dancing talent and I care so much about what you believe._

A part of her really hated it as her confidence started to grow.

_Saturday_

Regina Mills was evil. She was evil personified and Emma Swan could not and would not be persuaded otherwise. Not that anyone was trying to.

The bitch had actually gone as far as to try and fire Mary-Margaret. Mary-Margaret! Probably the only person on the whole fucking set that was always on time, never complained and did her job with a fucking smile on her face.

At first Emma had thought that she would have to settle for watching the gentle brunette go home and plotting her revenge against the queen bitch in the silence. She had been wrong.

"You're going too far, Mills."

Killian had been the first to speak up. But he definitely hadn't been the last. Soon enough the whole damn crew had joined the scene and more or less forced the director to admit that shooting hadn't been delayed because Mary-Margaret hadn't done Ella's make-up on time.

_The voice of the people and all that._

And Emma was happy. She liked Mary-Margaret. She knew an injustice when she saw one. And she had stood up for her with all the others.

She just couldn't help wondering who would have stood beside _her_, if she had been the one getting fired.

_Sunday_

She had an e-mail from one Killian Jones. It said _'To my #1 fan'_

_Can't I catch a fucking break from this guy?_

If she opened it before all the rest, it was because she was eager to be done with him. That was her story and she was sticking to it.

Her story did not make his e-mail any less hilarious. It presented to Emma ten practical jokes. Raging from fart bags to schemes that she was pretty sure could actually get him imprisoned. Each more creative than the other. Each aimed to amuse the whole crew and humiliate her royal directness Regina Mills. Each reducing Emma to tears with laughter.

She wrote back. Putting a ban on a third of them. The ones that she knew could easily mean jail time.

_Because, with my luck, the idiot that would replace him would be even worse._

'_Ruin all my fun, why don't you, Swan?'_

'_Trust me, with a face like that you wouldn't enjoy jail.'_

'_Emma, are you trying to tell me I'm pretty?'_

'_I'm trying to tell you you're an idiot. But then again I have been doing that from the first day we met so…'_

'_Don't give up, lass. You never know. It might just stick some day... Especially if you come to visit me in prison specifically to remind me.'_

Before that night she had actually thought that crying from laughing too hard was a myth.

She had been wrong.

_Monday_

They had talked for five minutes. For that time he had managed to inspect his shoes 15 times, clear his throat 10 and say 'I find it interesting that' 5. When Mary-Margaret excused herself Emma knew that she really had work to do. But she wasn't sure she would have blamed the woman even if she had lied to get away.

David was probably the only person Emma could say she loved. Which was why she was always ready to come to his defense. And she wanted to, really_ really_ wanted to, but…

"Mate, when was the last time you flirted? You know, with an actual human being?" for his part Killian did look like he was trying to hold in his laughter.

_Gotta give him credit for that. _

Emma pressed her palm to her mouth, trying to physically push the giggles back in.

David just glared.

"You know what flirting is, correct? Like… engaging in a conversation with the opposite – or not, I'm not gonna judge - gender" continued Killian, eyes flashing mischievously. "With the objective to later engage in other activities that do not involve so much talking?"

Emma lost it.

David just muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'annoying know-it-alls that can't even act all that well' and made his exit.

_Tuesday_

Ruby brought Killian lunch.

"Subway?" the brunet's hand shot to his heart. "The sheer effort you put into taking care of me, sis!"

Ruby rolled her eyes. Emma snickered.

"That coming from the guy that tells me there are 'some Chinese leftovers in the bloody fridge' when I say I'm hungry as hell."

Killian pulled a face that Emma was convinced he had been using since he was 5-years-old and bested by his little sister. Ruby promptly ignored him in favour of diving back into her brown shopping bag and retrieving her own sandwich. Before handling one to Emma.

"Oh, umm," the blonde took it with a little furrow of her eyebrows, turning around to hand it over to Killian, who just shook his head.

"No, no, that's yours," said Ruby absentmindedly before pulling out drinks. "Coke, soda or water?"

_W-what?_

"Soda," Emma answered automatically while still presenting the other girl with her perfect imitation of a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm a Coke girl myself," grinned the brunette, either oblivious to her shock or simply choosing to ignore it. "Which means Killian is stuck with water."

Her brother grumbled under his breath half-heartedly, his attention seemed to be on his obviously stunned co-star.

"Come on!" exclaimed Ruby as soon as she had distributed her cargo among them. "I only have half an hour and you're paying me back with a walk around the set."

And with that, and her seemingly endless amount of energy and enthusiasm, she sprinted away, calling back at them to 'Get a move on!'

"Don't mind her."

Emma jumped at Killian's voice so close to her ear and turned around to see him giving her a smile.

_Well, would you look at that, someone had something other than grins and smirks up his sleeve. And something stupidly adorable at that._

"And don't eat that, if she put something you are allergic to in it," he said, nodding towards the sandwich in her hand before turning to follow his sister. "Coming, Swan?"

She was. And she was sure as hell eating her sandwich.

_Wednesday_

Regina had thrown a cup of water at her. A plastic cup, sure, but that wasn't the point. Emma had been forced to deal with a lot more than a wet shirt from a pissed off director in her 28 years on this earth.

_That doesn't mean I'm gonna put up with the queen bitch's crap._

She had left the fucking set, ignoring the calls of everyone around her. And she had been damn glad Killian hadn't been there that day. The last thing she wanted was someone else getting in trouble with Regina for her sake.

_Oh, please, get over yourself. He's not going to quit his damn job because your precious feelings got hurt._

She called David after her second glass. He didn't tell her she was overreacting. He didn't tell her that violating her contract would be a bitch. He told her to sleep on it.

Killian called her when she was contemplating a fourth glass. He didn't tell her what words had passed between him and the director an hour earlier. He told her she was not giving the bitch what she wanted. He told her it was gonna be their way or the highway.

Emma was relieved she wasn't the only one thinking in the plural all the fucking time.

_Thursday_

Emma Swan knew she would probably be laughing her ass off at the picture they made, if only she wasn't part of said picture.

She was pretty sure she and Killian looked like some self-appointed superheroes, striding up to Regina Mills, faces grave, postures menacing. All they needed were a pair of swords and coats that swirled behind them.

"Miss Swan," the director sneered as soon as she saw her. "How kind o-"

"Save the venom for an antidote when you bite your own tail, Mills," interrupted her Killian, eyes cold and pining the brunette to her chair. "We're here to strike a deal and I'd strongly advise you to take it. Swan?"

"You are going to start treating the cast and crew with some goddamn respect," stated Emma, voice even and uncompromising (their way or the highway). "You're going to stop throwing blame around, taking out your problems or frustrations, or whatever it is that has shoved that stick so far up your ass, on everyone in the near vicinity. When someone's not doing their job well – fine, be a bitch, if that's the way you wanna go about it. When it's just for kicks? That's not going to slide around here anymore."

"Who do you two think y-" Regina started to rise from her chair but Emma just shook her head, stepping forward.

"Uh-uh, I'm talking. You're a sociopath, lady. You try running people into the ground for fun. Just because you have the power to do so? And now… you're seizing that power. And the second you slip again, we're gonna walk right out of here along with more than half of the cast and crew."

Emma threw the papers in her hand to the stunned woman before her. Lists of names and signatures falling around her as the two actors turned around and walked away.

Killian crossed his arms over his chest, Emma linked hers behind her back. Some physical restraint was needed to keep the high-five for after they had exited the premises.

_Friday_

Mary-Margaret had baked muffins for everyone on set. And she was excited.

David had called to make sure they were still on for tomorrow night. And he was nervous as hell.

Killian told her that Ruby had insisted she wasn't going to be the only one wearing high-heels tomorrow. And then he promptly rolled his eyes.

Emma was looking forward to Saturday. And found that slightly terrifying.

_Saturday_

_Who am I kidding? _

She found it _absolutely_ terrifying.

A lot could change in ten days.

And she needed to buy herself new shoes.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I'm afraid the light and teasing tone of the chapters so far might have fooled you into thinking that my plans for this fic didn't include tons of angst and heartbreak. Um, my bad?_

* * *

She was excited about Saturday.

That should have been her first clue that things would go south.

* * *

Emma was angry. No, no, she was_ livid_. She had never in her life been so absolutely, completely, 100%, I'm-gonna-toss-your-ass-out-that-window-and-fucking-enjoy-it, pissed off!

"Emma!"

His voice drawing nearer only made her walk faster towards her trailer.

"Swan!" now he was getting frustrated too.

_Good. Serves him right!_

"Bloody Hell! Would you stop?" she heard his roar in frustration and come to a haul some five feet behind her. "What's your bloody problem?"

That did it. Emma whirled around, hair flying everywhere, eyes flashing with ire, and Killian's eyes widened for an instant because of the sheer power that radiated off of her.

"What's my problem? What's my_ bloody_ problem?!" She stalked towards him, barely restrained violence coming off her in waves. "You nearly broke your fucking neck, you stupid ASSHOLE!"

By now she was full on yelling and could feel people beginning to stare.

_Let them!_

"It's MY fucking neck, Swan! Trust me, my contract makes that more than perfectly clear," he hissed at her through gritted teeth.

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so!" sneered the blond, sarcasm dripping off every word. "As long as nobody would get sued and we can continue shooting on schedule _after _you get yourself killed everything's alright!"

Emma Swan had gotten the dangerous bad boy vibe off Killian Jones the second she saw him. She had never been truly scared of him. Not until that moment as he stalked toward her, face red, eyes flashing with rage and desperation, hands balled into fists at his sides, body vibrating with the effort to hold himself back.

"Exactly," he spat the word in her face with absolute finality and turned on his heel and stalked away before she could even assimilate it.

* * *

'_You better have those heels ready.'_

'_Sorry Ruby. Not coming. Just about to call David and let him know. Have fun.'_

'_Oh come ooon! Emma what am I supposed to do there with the lovebirds and the horde of fangirls that will be stuck all over my inebriated brother?"_

_Oh, yes, because I'm dying to spend some time in such company._

'_I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.'_

Emma cringed. When exactly had she started caring enough to 'make it up' to anyone?

'_No. You're coming. This was you and Killian's evil masterplan anyways. You are seeing it through.'_

'_Ruby-'_

'_Don't Ruby me! I don't care what has gotten both of your panties in a twist. You are coming and that's final. Just… don't worry about Killian, okay?'_

_Easier said than done._

Emma's face hardened and she wrestled with her resolve until she had the bastard pinned down and not going anywhere. Worrying about the little piece of shit is what had gotten her into that mess in the first place. And Emma Swan had never had the problem of caring too much.

_Not since-_

She wasn't going to develop it now.

* * *

If she went a little overboard with the 4-inch heels and the bare-backed red silky dress and the deep red lipstick and the eyeliner and the short black leather jacket, well, she had been in the mood to look good so sue her!

_In the mood to show that I'm gonna have a good time even if he ends up dead in a fucking ditch somewhere._

"Emma!" Ruby waved her over to a table towards the back.

"Hey!"

Emma let the brunette kiss her cheek and tried to return her brilliant smile. She glanced over to David and Mary Margaret. The woman waved at her, a slight blush making her face even more welcoming . For his part David barely glanced at her and with a distracted 'hey' plunged back into his conversation with the make-up artist. Emma rolled her eyes but the almost non-existed distance between their chairs made her smile.

_At least something is going right._

"We picked a more secluded table 'cause, you know, celebs," explained Ruby with a grin and a wink.

"You don't have to worry about me," replied Emma, looking around a little uncomfortably.

The thing was that if people didn't expect to see you, they didn't. And Emma Swan was the last actress a person would expect to see in a public place. David had tried to get her to make an appearance at least at some more exclusive VIP parties but she could not be swayed.

_I have a fireplace, a shit ton of books I can never find the time to read and quite the collection of wine and whiskey bottles. Thank you very much._

Plus, a low profile had its perks. She could go and spill her drink over some guy right now and he would probably look at her, brush off any resemblance he found and proceed as if she was any other girl in the bar.

_Speaking of drinks._

Emma's gaze located the bar. And almost in the same moment it located Killian Jones. Leaning against the hard surface as if he was posing for the cover of GQ, a beer in hand and a dozen of bimbos pressing as close to him as possible and hanging onto his every word.

"Well, damn! I should have picked a spot closer to the stage then," grumbled Ruby, drawing Emma's attention away from the sickening sight. "Since you're a low profile expert and Killian has no clue what the concept entails. Makes hiding either of you rather pointless."

"He sure as hell isn't hiding," Emma snorted out, cringing at her tone of voice.

_Lovely. Sound more bitter, why don't you, Emma?_

* * *

"Really? I asked for a gin-and-tonic, Killian," Ruby glared at the brunet.

"Yeah, well, next time don't ask your big brother to buy you alcohol," he shot back with a shit-eating grin, handling her a fruity cocktail.

"I didn't order this," stated Emma, pointing to the scotch on the rocks he had set in front of her.

"It's what you wanted though, isn't it?" he replied, a little bite in his voice but no smug grin to his lips despite the fact that he knew he was right. "Second base, yet?"

"Excuse me?" she started to stand when he rolled his eyes at her and nodded towards David and Mary-Margaret.

"Meant the prom king and queen there," he said before giving her a leer without much force behind it. "But if you'd like to give them a run for their money…"

"Why don't you go pick up one of your groupies, Killian," she sneered at him. "It's the best you can do."

He drew back, almost as if she had slapped him and there was something in his eyes, something that looked suspiciously like resignation. Like agreement.

_The hell?_

"Yeah," he threw back the rest of his rum. "Why don't I go do that?"

* * *

The night was a bust. The night was a reminder why she didn't _do_ this.

Emma comforted herself with the success of those around her. The people who knew something that obviously nobody had taught her. How to have a good time.

Mary Margaret and David were currently on the dance floor. Pressed just a little bit closer than necessary but still looking quite sweet and innocent. David was a real gentleman. Mary-Margaret was a real lady. And they made a lovely couple. And suddenly Emma was feeling inadequate and ridiculous because _she_ had thought she should help_ them_.

_I shouldn't be giving anyone love advice. I shouldn't be giving anyone any advice._

Ruby was out of sight but Emma grinned remembering the way the guitar player

_Victor Something?_

had woven his arm around the brunette's waist a few minutes earlier and dragged her backstage.

She felt a little anxiety and concern for the girl creep up on her but shook them off immediately. Killian was rubbing off on her.

_Ruby is a big girl. She can handle herself._

She was certainly in the category of people who didn't need Emma's advice. Or her brother's, for that matter.

Emma's eyes instinctively shifted towards the bar where Killian had last been standing, paying more attention to the shots of tequila than the girls who he was licking the salt off of.

He wasn't there. She frowned, turning left and right.

_Where did the damn id-_

"I can get home just fine!" came Ruby's irritated voice from behind her, making Emma swirl around in her chair. "How are _you _getting home?"

Killian was right next to her, leaning on the table, giving his sibling an appraising look, brows furrowed as if he couldn't calculate whether she was old enough to drive herself home. Obviously his drunken calculations turned out in Ruby's favour because he gave her a reluctant nod before fishing his own keys out of his pocket and dangling them in front of her face.

"My bike," he stated, slurring the words just a bit, an obvious challenge written all over his face.

_Like hell you are!_

Emma snorted, looking back at Ruby for the inevitable explosion.

It never came.

"Fine," Ruby gritted out and started to stalk off towards the backstage again.

_Wait. What?!_

Emma was off and chasing after the brunette before she could think twice about it. Grabbing Ruby's arm she whirled her around.

"You're kidding, right?" she demanded, breath labored and eyes wide with disbelief. "You're not seriously going to let him drive home on a fucking motorcycle in this state!"

"Look, Emma-"

The resignation on Ruby's face made Emma jerked her hand back as if burnt.

"What the fuck is wrong with your family? Do you all think you're immortal or something?" she yelled in the girl's face.

_You're one to talk about family. None of this is any of your damn business._

Like hell it wasn't.

She could picture it with a sickeningly clarity. Getting a phone call. Because fucking Ruby was off somewhere fucking the fucking guitar player! And maybe that wasn't enough of an explanation, maybe there was no scenario in which they called _her_, but she couldn't stop picturing Killian. Killian on a cold metal table. Killian covered in blood. Killian in a place that smelled so heavily of death that even he couldn't breathe it life because he didn't have any left.

"What do you want me to do, Emma?!" shouted back Ruby, eyes flashing and for the very first time Emma thought they looked just like Killian's.

Just because of the rage and desperation swirling around in them.

"Tell him he can't go so that he drinks some _more_ and _then _goes without asking at all? You don't have a fucking clue!" Ruby stalked forward, invading her space much like her brother always did. "Do you know how much I hate that bike? Do you know how my skin crawls every time I don't see it in the garage? Do you know how he used to drive it down the most_ fucking suicidal_ paths? On way more than some rum and a few shots! You're mad because of some fucking stunts? Well, at least when he does those there are people there. People who can fix it if… if something goes wrong. People who know what's going on! You don't have a fucking clue! And, trust me, you don't wanna get one. So stop acting like you know me. Or Killian. Alright?"

Emma stood staring at the other woman. Shocked. Uncomprehending. Detached and too engaged all at once.

She could nod, agree, apologize, turn around, go home and sleep it off and hope tomorrow she won't have a new co-star.

It was the easy way out.

Emma Swan never took the easy way out.


	6. Chapter 6

Perhaps she should have been coming up with a plan while she was running through the club and dashing outside to find the idiot. Perhaps she should have argued with Ruby some more and made her chase after said idiot. Perhaps she should have said screw it and gone home. Perhaps she should stop thinking and do something because Killian was already straddling his bike and-

_Jesus Christ! The guy doesn't even wear a helmet! Isn't that illegal or something?!_

The bastard wasn't going to stop and listen to her no matter what she said so before she could actually think this through (and decide that she did wanna live to see another day) Emma sat herself behind Killian, trying to be casual (not absolutely_ frazzled_) about having to wrap her arms around him.

She felt him jump a little beneath her touch and a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. At least she had caught him by surprise.

Killian twisted his head around to look at her, annoyance written all over his face and a sneer already on his lips when he caught sight of her face. His face dropped in shock, his eyes running up and down her form before coming to rest on her arms where they were wrapped tightly around his waist.

_What? Did he expect somebody el- Oh!_

He probably did, she realized with a start. The number of fangirls who had mounted Killian's bike without asking permission after one too many drinks at the bar was probably enough to knock her right out of her stylish stilettos.

Shock however quickly gave way to annoyance again. Only, having seen the real thing, Emma could now tell that he was trying a bit too hard and there was a baffling undertone of panic in his eyes.

"Get off," he gritted through his teeth finally, turning back around.

"Such a gentleman," shot back Emma, sarcasm dripping off her words but she didn't budge. "You're giving me a ride home."

"Don't remember offering one."

"You didn't. But since you seemed so damn convinced that you can drive yourself, I don't see why you can't drop me off too," said Emma, voice a tad too chipper now as she tried to act as if she wasn't aware of how inadvisable it was for him to be driving anybody anywhere.

Killian's sharp laugh made her jerk back a little. She had heard the man laugh before and that was not the right sound.

"I'm sorry to get in the way of your noble intensions, Miss Swan, but this is not going to work," he said, voice heavy with a mixture of bitterness and repressed frustration.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said matter-of-factly.

And she wasn't completely lying. When she had first hopped on the stupid bike the thought that he wouldn't drive once there was somebody else with him hadn't really crossed her mind. She had been fully prepared to just cling on for dear life (both of theirs really since he didn't seem to have a nearly tight enough grip on his) as he sped past all the red light and STOP sign in town. Which, in retrospect, was probably unbelievably stupid, not to mention utterly useless as far as safety was concerned, but, as pointed out, she hadn't really done much thinking ( not past the 'not letting him go' point).

_Because going with my instincts always works out sooo well for me._

"Is that so?"

_Oh, yeah, now he is pissed in more ways than one._

Killian twisted around again to catch her eyes, his own burning with anger.

"So what are you gonna do if I drive off right now? Hmm, Swan? What if I start the bloody bike and don't even give you enough time to jump off?"

She thought that even if she hadn't already made up her mind the challenge and sneer in his voice would have been enough to make her stand her ground.

"That would be nice actually since it's getting pretty late and I have to get up early tomorrow," she replied calmly, refusing to break eye contact.

To her immense satisfaction Killian seemed momentarily too stunned to reply. His eyes hardening as he observed her, probably testing her, looking to see if she was as stupid as she was acting.

_Yup. Right there with you on the moron train._

He obviously found what he was looking for because his face suddenly broke. It just _broke_. His eyes took on an absolutely _devastated_ shade of blue and he let out a sigh that sounded like it was coming from the very depths of his soul. He gritted his teeth until she could actually hear them grinding against each other and hung his head, turning a little from her but not facing the road completely.

She swallowed hard, trying to hold in her gasp because she could swear nothing had ever made her heart ache more.

"Get off the damn bike, Emma," he ordered, voice suddenly devoid of all emotion and just… hollow.

_Fuck you! _

"I told you-"

"Bloody hell, woman! Just get off!" he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration and exhaustion.

Emma was about to open her mouth again when he reached over and dropped his keys in her lap. She stared at them dumbly for a few seconds before wrapping her mind around the action and snatching them up and quickly jumping off the bike.

Killian let out another soul-shattering sigh but got off too. Turning around, he bowed to her mockingly and gave her his most sardonic smile.

"I would offer to walk the princess home but I presume my company would be unwanted," he gritted out before turning around and striding off only a tad unsteadily in what she hoped was the direction of his apartment.

Emma stood rooted to the spot for a full ten seconds before groaning in frustration and jogging after him.

_I'm doing way too much running in high heels for that idiot!_

Once she reached his side she slowed down, trying to keep up with his big strides without actually running beside him. She could literally feel his gaze burning her skin but she refused to look at him.

"I'm in the same direction," she semi-lied.

_So maybe it's a bit of a roundabout way to getting home. So what? I need to clear my damn head._

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Emma fiddling with the keys he had given her and wondering if the jiggling graded on his nerves.

_I hope it does._

She really didn't.

"Why didn't you just drive?" the question slipped past her lips almost without her consent and she definitely didn't expect him to answer when-

"It's never the one who should go," he said gravely, giving her no other explanation.

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

"Your sister hates it."

His laugh was that wrong sound again which made her skin crawl and her heart howl in her chest, _the stupid thing_.

"Ruby complaining to you about my 'self-destructive tendencies' now?" he said, a forced sort of mirth in his voice.

"More like the other way around," she muttered under her breath.

Killian came to halt, whirling around to face her fully so that she could no longer ignore looking at him and had to stop too. Turning, Emma put on her best 'I'm not putting up with your shit!' face (except that she was, the whole fucking night was about putting up with his shit and she was starting to ask herself _why_) and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Why the bloody hell do you care?!" he screamed at her, the lack of control shocking her for a moment.

"What do you want me to say, Killian?" she screamed right back because dammit! she had not signed up for this and she should just walk away but she _couldn't_ and it was his fucking fault and she was angry (she was _furious_) with him. "Do you want me to sing your praises? To tell you how important you are to me? To everyone around you? To the world? 'Cause I'm not going to do that!"

If the look on his face was anything to go by he was real glad that she wasn't going to.

"You're a human being and I know you so no, I don't want you to get yourself killed. It's that _bloody _simple."

She stood in front of him, breathing heavily and digging her nails into her upper arms to hold herself back because this was a lie.

_A big fat lie._

He _was _important. And she didn't know when it had happened and she didn't know how the bastard had managed to do it but she was Emma Swan and the one thing she did know was that he probably wouldn't live long enough to hear her admit that to him even if he did quit all the risky stunt work and drunk driving.

He seemed just as worked up as she was and they were leaning towards each other, trying to intimidate or provoke, she wasn't even sure anymore. His eyes flickered to her lips which hers had done a couple of times already and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her. For a second all she could think about was what he would taste like.

"Well, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, lass, but just because you don't want somebody to die it doesn't mean they won't."

He moved away and resumed walking before she had been able to force her mind to switch lanes. Thankfully, he didn't seem to expect her to follow him any longer.

"Don't forget to bring my keys tomorrow," he threw over his shoulder, his voice kind of hoarse, making it almost impossible to hear him.

But she did and raised her own voice almost to a yell to make sure he heard_ her_.

"What do you need them for?"

Killian stopped and she knew he had understood her and just hoped that he didn't give her the obvious answer with a nice portion of sass on the side.

She was too damn tired already.

He swayed a little where he was standing, less than five feet away, his back still turned to her, and she knew it wasn't so much the alcohol in his system as whatever was swirling around in his head that was messing with his balance. She watched his hunched shoulders and the way he was seconds away from taking a step forward and leaving her without an answer. Leaving her behind.

Maybe she would have preferred that.

_No, I wouldn't have._

"Because I can still see my parents' bodies on the front seats while I tried to shelter Ruby from the glass that was fucking_ everywhere_. Because I can still hear Milah scream on the seat next to me as we swiveled off the road. Because I'm not getting in another bloody car again, if George Lucas were to hold open the door to his fucking limo for me! … But I am getting back on the road."

Emma didn't know what to say. It seemed like she had reached full capacity and could not absorb anymore horrifying information tonight.

So she just let him walk away.

_I'm sorry._


	7. Chapter 7

I tried to balance tha angst. Somewhat. Hope this doesn't leave you as unsatisfied as I left them. xD

* * *

She couldn't sleep.

_How _the fuck_ am I supposed to fall asleep?_

Her muscles ached and she was slightly cold but couldn't muster up the energy to get up and search for a blanket. Her stomach was a little ball of nerves and dread and anguish and every other unpleasant word in the dictionary. And the little alcohol in her system was not to blame. It was, however, responsible for the fucked up taste in her mouth.

_I washed my teeth twice dammit!_

She could almost taste the rum he had been drinking and she hadn't even kissed him.

_Thank God for small miracles!_

It would have been a disaster. She shuddered to think of having to show up on set after having kissed Killian. Not that she wasn't shuddering at the thought of showing up tomorrow anyway. She would give just about anything to spend tomorrow in her bed, blissfully unaware of the world outside with all its traps and twists and cruelties and fuck! Why couldn't he stay a spoiled over-confident asshole that got drunk for the hell of it and went home with two or three fangirls and didn't care about anything or anyone? Was that too much to ask for? Why did he have to be even more mistreated and fucked up by fate or whatever the hell was out there than she was? Why didn't that repel her at all?

_Get a bloody grin, Swan!_

Yeah. That didn't help _at all_. Could at least the voice inside her head not sound like him?

_Get a fucking grip, Emma!_

Better.

Now if only she could switch off the rest that was banging around inside her brain in that deep accented _broken_ voice of his.

'_the glass that was fucking everywhere'_

'_swiveled off the road'_

'_getting back on the road'_

Her stomach ached. Her head ached. Her heart ached the most and she was really tired of that little piece of shit's antics. If her heart could just keep quiet for once in her life, maybe, just maybe, she could get out of this one unscathed.

_Not bloody likely._

_Fuck you!_

_You'd like that, wouldn't you, lass?_

Emma groaned, flopping on her abdomen and muffling her growls in her pillow.

And then her eyes started burning.

_No. No, I am not crying for that bastard! NO!_

When sleep finally claimed her it was thankfully dreamless. And the tears on her cheeks had time to dry.

/

His mind was blissfully blank as he flopped down on his bed. He couldn't afford himself the luxury of thinking. There was hardly any alcohol in the house except for some beer and his bloody keys were in the possession of one Emma Swan, who had- no! Not going there. He wasn't thinking.

His dreams though were another story altogether.

Ruby. His little sister all covered in glass and blood. There was so much blood. There hadn't been so much blood, had it? But she wasn't little anymore. She was young and wild and fierce. His firecracker. And fire it was that burned in her eyes when she focused them on him. Only they weren't the right shade.

Milah. Always screaming. Why couldn't he remember her any other way. She was always screaming. His name. Always his bloody name. He wanted to forget it, to bury it somewhere, anywhere. He didn't want to hear it anymore. Not like this. She gasped and opened her mouth and he squeezed his eyes in preparation.

'_Do you want me to sing your praises?'_

Emma. Her arms around him. Holding him together. She shouldn't be the one holding him together. He couldn't let her touch him. She had to stop touching him. She had to let go before something happened. Again. Always.

/

"Morning."

Emma felt the goosebumps erupt all over her skin.

_Thank God for long sleeves._

"Hey," she said, voice just a pitch higher than usual, and tried to hide her cringe as she turned around to face Killian.

_Well, that's new._

Killian Jones. #1 Hollywood heartthrob and pain in her ass had one of his hands shoved deep in his pocket while the other scratched viciously behind his ear. His head was slightly bowed and he was shuffling, he was _actually_ shuffling his feet.

"Your keys are in my trailer, if you'll just-"

"Sod the bloody keys," he muttered, finally looking up at her.

_Ouch! And I thought I looked exhausted._

Emma linked her hands together, trying to physically restrain herself from teaching out and running her fingers beneath his eyes and through his hair.

_Now would be a good time to get that fucking grip._

"Swan, I-" Killian was back to seeking eye contact with anything but her. "I'm sorry about last night."

That... was not what she had been expecting.

Avoidance. Annoyance. Making light of the whole thing. Demanding she keep to her own messed up life in the future. Yes. An apology? Not so much.

_Can this man do what I expect him to at least_ once_?_

"I don't-" he was going to take his damn ear off, if he kept that up. "I'm sorry you had to… deal with that. I didn't-"

He groaned in exasperation, running his hands through his hair. He obviously wasn't terribly familiar with the whole apologizing thing.

Emma took pity on him.

"It's ok," she shrugged, because if he wasn't going to make light of it, she sure as hell would. "I shouldn't have- It's ok."

"It's really not. Not much I can do about it though," he mumbled before focusing her with a contemplative look. "But maybe I can make it up to you?"

_Innuendo time._

"With a strictly non-alcoholic drink?"

_Or not._

Emma was pretty sure she was doing some on her best 'fish out of water' imitation. Thankfully, Killian seemed too preoccupied with being embarrassed and out of his element to notice.

_Killian Jones nervous about asking a girl out. Who would have thought. Wait, no. He's not asking me out. It's just a coffee apology. Oooh, I can finally introduce him to the magic that is cocoa with cinnamon. Wait, no!_

"If you don't want to-"

She had been silent for too long.

_Say something, dammit!_

"_The Enchanted Beanstalk_?"

"Pardon?"

_Something that doesn't make him think you escaped from a mental institution!_

"It's a-uh a coffee shop. Just a few blocks from here. Cosier than a Starbucks. Not that we're looking for cosier. Not we! I mean you and I as in… we. So yeah, _The Enchanted Beanstalk_. Cheesy, I know, but they make the best-"

"Emma," he grinned at her, clearly amused. "Sounds lovely."

Ugh. Bastard. Losing the nervous edge thanks to her babbling.

"Right. Great."

"Today? After we wrap up?"

"Umm, yeah. Sure."

"Alright," he smiled at her, this one more sincere and happy.

_Damn. Happy looks good on him._

"Till then," he murmured, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles before she had realized what was going on.

She had just agreed to a date with Killian Jones.

/

_This wasn't happening. Why today? Why now? Why?!_

"I thought we weren't filming that until next week!" she shrieked, feeling herself flush as Regina gave her a look.

"When you are the one directing the movie, Miss Swan, you can make your own schedule. For now, you're gonna have to follow mine," stated the director, her voice leaving no room for arguing.

She was going to kiss Killian Jones. Today.

/

"Bloody Hell!"

/

"Ugh, not now!" she growled at her door which was being thoroughly abused from the other side.

"Swan, open the bloody door!"

_Shit!_

Emma's eyes widened as Killian's exasperated voice floated in.

_Oh, this is bad. This is very very bad._

She got up before freezing on the spot, grinding her teeth and clenching her fists. She was Emma Swan, dammit! She did not get in a ditzy over having to kiss some guy. In a fucking movie! She had made out with dozens of guys in front of a camera. Hell, she had done sex scenes. Killian Jones was no different. And she was not going to let herself go off the deep end because of something as stupid and insignificant as a couple of kisses.

"What?" she growled as she wrenched her door open, maybe a tad too menacing but she was past the point of caring by now.

This day was not going as planned.

For his part, Killian didn't seem fazed at all, pushing his way inside her trailer and waiting calming for her to close the door. Which she did. With a bang.

"What do you want?" she said with a sigh, giving him a murderous look just because Regina had marched off the second after she dropped the bomb on Emma and now she needed to take it out on someone.

A someone who was now stepping forward until his chest was only a slightly deeper inhale from hers and Emma had to actively force herself to stand her ground. His breath was way too fresh for someone who had drunk enough to knock out a whole college party last night. He literally radiated warmth and she could almost feel his hair beneath her fingers and his lips on hers.

_Well, that would be coming true in a few hours either way._

"I thought you might not be too keen on the whole crew being there to witness our first kiss," he whispered, lips almost brushing hers as he pronounced the words.

"And you what? Decided to drop by for a quick taste test?"

In retrospect, that might not have been a good choice of words. Not if the way Killian's eyes darkened and the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips was any indication. Emma's traitorous eyes followed the rapid movement, a warm fire starting somewhere deep inside her and spreading outwards at an alarming speed.

"Perhaps."

_Now, making words sound like that is absolutely NOT fair._

"Please, you couldn't handle it," she breathed out, her hands clenching in an attempt to keep still.

This was a bad idea. A kiss in front of a camera meant nothing. A kiss in the privacy of her trailer, on the other hand…

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it."

She wanted to deny it. She wanted to scoff at him. She wanted to punch the stupid grin off his face. She wanted to kick him out. She wanted to prove him wrong.

She knew he wasn't.

Killian Jones _was_ different and perhaps she couldn't handle it. And in the end she couldn't afford for that to happen in front of half the people they worked with every day. At least that's the excuse she was going with when her hands wrapped around the collar of his shirt and pulled his lips to hers.

Killian needed less than a second to catch up with what was happening. And then they were lost.

Passion, Emma had thought, was something that you channel and bask in, using it to satisfy your own selfish desires.

Passion, as it turned out, was something that ruled over you, making you a slave and making you love every second spend under its reign.

And she was absolutely convinced passion had completely taken over her and Killian. It rushed inside their fortresses as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. It took down every form of defense as they battled for dominance, for absolution. It swept over them, knocking down walls, infusing the very ground beneath their feet with its intensity as they clung to each other for dear life.

Passion plundered them like the most ruthless pirate, leaving to emotion unturned, no secret dream unobserved, taking to prisoners except that blasted piece of her heart.

When they pulled apart she felt the tide going out and dragging her very soul along with it and she felt herself swaying into him, trying to chase after it, after the piece of herself he was so blatantly stealing.

Her one consolation was that Killian seemed as wrecked as she felt. It gave her the strength to draw in a breath that was more oxygen than _him_.

"That was-"

"a training exercise," she muttered, channeling all her strength and willpower into pulling further away.

And then she was exiting the trailer, not caring that it was her damn trailer. She had to get away. Had to clear her head. Put some distance between them.

She had to run.

/

"Cut!" Regina's voice sliced the air less sharply than usual. "That was good."

And that was the biggest compliment Regina Mills was capable of giving. If Emma's brain was functioning at least somewhat properly, she might have felt smug about it.

Her brain was most definitely not functioning properly.

All it was currently capable of producing were demands for _more_.

More of him, more of his lips on hers, more of his hands around her waist, more of his fingers running over her cheek and tangling themselves in her hair, more of his tongue chasing hers, more of his taste, his warmth. _More._

By the time she started making her way through the daze wrapped around them most of the crew had got back to work and she and Killian were the only people who hadn't moved from their spot.

"Emma."

His voice finally snapped her completely out of the spell she had fallen under.

_Wasn't a kiss supposed to break the spell, not put you under one?_

"I have to-" she gestured vaguely.

The direction didn't matter. She just had to move.

She had to run.

/

"Jones."

His stupid eyes snapped up to hers and his stupid lips stretched into a light grin over his stupid face.

_No._

"Swan," he drawled out, turning her name into something hot and sticky and-

_No._

"Look about tonight…" she took a deep breath, this wasn't a big deal, _it wasn't_. "That's not gonna work for me."

"Oh," his lips twitched downwards for a moment but refused to stay put. "That's alright. Maybe tomor-"

_No._

"No. I-" she stared somewhere over his shoulder, then towards her trailer, up towards the ceiling. "Let's just forget it, ok?"

"Forget-" this time when his lips fell they stayed down and if she let it that alone could break her heart. "Emma-"

_No._

"I'm sorry. It's better this way."

"Swan."

_No._

She turned around and started walking towards the exit.

"SWAN!"

_No._

She had to run.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm so grateful to all of you for following and reviewing. I have a very clear idea of where this fic should go but it's really people's investment that pushes me to put it down in words. :)) Thank you!

* * *

She is a coward. She knows it and she tells herself that she has made her peace with it.

She really hasn't.

But Emma cannot change her mind. Not after _that_. Because now if she goes out with him even on something as insignificant as a coffee d-… meeting, she knows how her mind is going to betray her.

Her heart more likely.

_Fucking traitor!_

If she goes out with him now it's going to mean _more_. To her that is. Which is where the whole thing falls apart completely. Because it can't mean anything more to him.

He is Killian Jones. The #2 Hottest Man in the World according to _People_ magazine.

Which is bullshit.

_Channing Tatum doesn't have anything on him._

Oh, she is pretty sure that he wouldn't mind a good fuck. Maybe the coffee would turn into a few casual dates even. He is charming, he is witty, they are already at the point where can talk and e-mail and text and tease each other for hours. And then they can just drift apart. After he has had his fill and she is getting just on this side of boring and being together is just not as good as chasing the next conquest.

_Being together?! Fuck! He asked you to grab a coffee! _Coffee_, Emma! Not wedding rings._

She is in too deep already.

Oh, and the media would have a field day. Not that she cares. Plus there's no such thing as bad publicity or whatever it is that David is always harping about.

_I can just picture it 'Ice queen Emma Swan thawed and burned by the hotness of no other but co-star and infamous stud Killian Jones'._

Oh, how she hates the media.

_The rub is that they won't be too far off._

For all of her perfected avoidance techniques in public Emma never quite mastered lying to herself. Which is why she is currently curled up on her couch cursing Killian's name and David's for good measure because he forced her into that damn movie in the first place and-

_Ugh. _

She knows she likes him. She knows she probably _more than likes him_. And, what's even worse, she thinks he might just like her too. That last one makes her chuckle bitterly as a voice in her head, that sounds surprisingly like _him_-

_Fucking Neal._

\- telling her not to be stupid, that he couldn't possibly want her, not all of her, not for anything real or permanent. And even if he did now, he would most certain grow tired and decide that he wants to return her and ask for his money, heart, whatever, back.

Ah, how she loves that voice, the one that always talks about her as if she were an object. And a broken one at that.

_Damaged goods._

And the worst is that ever since that night all she wants in to be there for Killian. Talk to him, understand him, support him, heal his scars and let him see her own. She wants to be the one that stands by him because now she knows, like she knows that she will always look for a family to belong to, that Killian wants someone to be truly his, someone he can belong to too. And he doesn't think he can have that so he settles for less, settles for close to nothing.

_You would know how it feels. _You _settle for nothing._

Emma knows all that, she's not an idiot. But that doesn't change the fact that just because she wants all that, she can actually have it. Because she can't. She can't be enough for him. She wasn't enough for her own parents. She wasn't enough for Neal fuck-up Cassidy. How on earth was she supposed to believe she could be enough for Killian Jones?

_I can't._

Her life was fine. Sure, it wasn't perfect but whose is, right? And _now_.

_Now everything is a mess!_

Emma never had trouble separating her professional life and her personal life. Actually if you asked any journalist in America they would probably tell you she did it a bit too well. And then enter Killian I'm-an-annoying-piece-of-shit-with-the-cutest-smile-in-the-world-and-a-laugh-that-turns-Emma-Swan's-insides-to-mush-and-eyes-that-should-be-illigal-and-a-body-that-MUST-be-illegal-somewhere Jones. Killian I'm-a-jackass-and-I-drink-too-much-and-flirt-with-anything-that-moves-but-I'm-also-smart-and-funny-and-have-a-secret-mushy-side Jones. Killian I-

_God, I hate him._

If only it were true she wouldn't be heading for her wine stash right about now.

/

She texts him at 11:35. Because at the end of the day she just can't bear the thought that she let him down. Even if she doesn't have the courage to make it right.

_In too deep doesn't seem to cover it anymore._

'_I'm sorry.'_

He takes less than 3 minutes to reply and she hates him just a little bit more.

'_I understand.'_

She likes her big empty house. It means nobody hears her frustrated and pitiful whimper.

He really doesn't. And with how well he has come to understand her in just a short period of time, she knows that the only thing that can get in the way of him 'reading her'-

"_You're something of an open book, Swan. Or a script if you will. Just haven't figured out how it ends yet."_

\- is the thing that always clouds _her _judgment too. Doubts.

And in just those two words glaring back at her from the sickeningly bright screen she can read him. He thinks he scared her. Thinks she doesn't want to. Thinks she doesn't care.

She hates herself a lot more than she could ever hate him.

But she knows how it ends. And there's no happy ending in her script.

/

"I'm thinking of adding matchmaking skills to my résumé. What do you think, Swan? I believe you should too."

His breath is warm in her ear and she clenches her fists silently by her sides, trying to keep her whole body from going rigid. Because he has been more cautious around her, invading her personal space less, keeping it down to a couple of innuendoes a day and generally not imposing his presence on her. And she resents every second of it.

But he is Killian Jones so he took a whole lot of one day to get back to discussing with her everyone from Regina to the guy that brought them lunch and teasing her about their more than friendly scenes together.

Thankfully no more kissing for now.

_Yeah, keep telling yourself you're happy about that._

But the man is right and watching David and Mary Margaret she cannot deny it even if she wanted to. The colour on MM's cheeks, the way her agent leans towards the brunette as if drawn by some invisible magnet. They just _fit_. It makes Emma happy for them. It also makes her uncomfortable in a way that has nothing to do with PDA. She tells herself it doesn't make her jealous. She thinks that's what a happily-ever-after must look like. Not that she would know.

_Well, it would probably look dark and gorgeous with a tinge of the bluest of blu-_

_Stop it!_

Good God, she is losing her mind.

"Hmfff," she shrugs because the day she openly admits Killian Jones is right is the day hell freezes over.

He is rolling his eyes when she turns around to face him and she bites her bottom lips to fight back a grin.

Emma Swan's company has increased Killian Jones' eye-rolling hours tenfold.

His company has increased her grinning hours even more but she tries not to think too much about that.

"Aren't you supposed to be sweating around doing backflips or something equally ridiculous?"

Part of her loves that they fell back into their 'you annoy me and I want you to go away but let's talk some more instead' routine. Part of her hates what it considers a regression.

_Yeah, because we were progressing so wonderfully before._

"They are setting up some sort of a wall," he waves his hand dismissively.

"_Some sort of a wall_? Man, you are as professional as they come, aren't you?" she says.

"My interest in watching sweaty guys set kid's blocks on top of one another is fairly limited, if that's what you mean," he shoots back and rolls his eyes _again_.

"Well, it would certainly be more interesting than watching those two eye-cuddle," Emma points behind her at the new couple, pulling a face of mock disgust. "I swear Snow White and Prince Charming probably saw more action."

His laugh is deep and rich and he throws his head back and-

_Shit! Dangerous territory. Abort, Swan! Abort!_

"So stunt prep!" she says cheerily, starting towards the area where all the _hyper interesting_ work is going on and not waiting for him to stop laughing or follow her.

Of course, 4 seconds later he is beside her and she just really really hates her life sometimes. Or herself. Or him. Or her stupid but well-justified cowardice. Take your pick.

/

Prep work is… well, boring beyond belief. Killian is giving her a look that could mean nothing else but 'I told you so' less than 5 minutes later.

"Jones, can you give us a hand!" someone yells from above them before she can admit that Killian Jones was right and _Frozen_ can actually be filmed in hell.

Killian frowns a little and she knows it's not because he doesn't wanna help. Usually they are not allowed to mess with that part of the pre-shooting process. She thinks it's a safety measure, both so that the actors don't get hurt and so that they don't mess something up and hurt somebody else. But lifting what Killian has deemed 'kid's blocks'-

"_They look at least 10 times heavier than they actually are, Swan."_

\- is not something that they can mess up that bad, right?

So Emma takes a step forward almost unconsciously, just following Killian and wondering what exactly they are supposed to give a hand with. And she doesn't actually see it but later everyone tells her that the block literally fell on its own. There wasn't anyone touching it, no one was even close to that part of the wall.

She doesn't see but she does hear. A kind of ominous thud and what she thinks a sand avalanche would sound like. And Killian's yell.

She doesn't see but she does feel. His body barreling into hers, strong arms wrapping around her waist and his head kind of tucking hers beneath it. And the unforgiving concrete floor beneath her side as they hit the ground.

Something hits her foot and she jerks it back looking at the debris beside them.

_That does not look like a kid's block._

"Emma?"

His voice is a bit muffled at first but then the shock starts to wear off and she can focus and hear it ringing with unrepressed fear and concern.

"Emma, are you alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine," her eyes finally focus on his face too and she frowns, both at his panicked look and at the dust in his hair and on the right side of his face. "Are you?!"

He doesn't answer but instead pulls his body away from hers a little, scanning her, brows furrowed painfully.

"Are you sure? Are you-"

"Killian, I'm fine!" she starts to sit up and winces a little because, yeah, okay, maybe her hip was a little sore.

That's when the medic reaches them as well as what seems like every single person she has even seen on set and some that she hasn't. Mary Margaret and David are at the front kneeling on the ground next to them, eyes wide and worried and she repeats that she is fine while Killian just shakes his head at all of the medic's questions.

"There was no one there! Where did that thing come from?!" David is the first to announce what they will hear over and over again in the next few hours.

"What_ is_ that bloody thing?" Killian's voice cuts in and her head snaps to him at the sheer rage in his voice.

Then she follows his burning gaze back to the stone block that is now in a few pieces. Now that she looks at it more closely she can tell that it's not like any of the others. The colour is a bit off. The material is all wrong. The _material _would have cracked her skull open had Killian not tackled her to the ground.

_What the hell?_

/

"The blonde was with him. It would've hit her but he got her out of the way and… they're both fine."

"Good. I'm a patient man. Next time he won't have the chance to jump _out of the way_."


	9. Chapter 9

First, I'm so SO sorry for how long it has been since I've updated this. I can't even believe how long indeed but my life has really been pretty damn eventful (in a good way though ) the last few months and still I'm so sorry. I can promise you that I know where this story is going and I will finish it and I just hope that you haven't completely given up on it and would like to stick with me to the end.

Second, a warning about the end of this chapter: if blood bothers you, you might wanna just skip the last 2 paragraphs and read the A/N under the line.

Thank you and I hope I manage to whisk you back into this! ;) This is a short one but another one should be up by the end of the week.

* * *

"So the Queen Bitch just brushed it all under the rug?"

Her agent's voice is disbelieving and on the right side of outraged and even Mary-Margaret's admonishing '_David!_' is half-hearted and Emma suddenly realizes how much time her agent has been spending on set, remembering the days when the Queen Bitch had been 'award-winning director Regina Mills' to him.

It makes the whole thing feel a bit too comfortable, with David there, the only person she has been remotely close to in the last 5 years, and this tentative friendship she has been forming with Mary-Margaret against her better judgment, and this _thing_ with-

"Killian! For the last time, could you keep still for five seconds!"

"Sorry, lass," says Killian, resisting the urge to pull another face and mess up MM's work. "Just find it baffling and slightly unbelievable that anyone, even the idiots working here, can't tell the difference between an actual rock and a bloody prop."

"I think you should bruise his left cheek a bit more. Will caught him pretty hard there in the last scene," muttered Emma, leaning over the brunet in the make-up artist's chair and totally ignoring MM's annoyed little sigh.

And the heat that seemed to bloom where her shoulder was now pressing into Killian's.

She is perfectly aware that she and David are in the way. So what? She is all wrapped up for the day yet for some reason –

_You know damn well for what reason, Emma._

\- she doesn't feel like going home just yet.

So she is getting in the way of everybody else instead.

"Been watching my scenes closely, Swan?" Killian grins at her and MM slaps his shoulder because he is ruining her process of blooding his lip.

"Well, somebody has to make sure another rock doesn't crack your stupid head open," she shoots back.

Mary-Margaret decides to take her advice and moves back to Killian's left cheek, making Emma grin in triumph.

"You're just desperate to make me less attractive," grumbles the brunet.

"Some girls find blood and scars quite sexy actually," Emma says distractedly, handling her friend the tissues and leaning forward again to watch her work in fascination.

_Nothing to do with what, or rather who, she is currently working on. Nope. I was totally just as interested when she was doing Ashley's make-up yesterday._

"And are you, per chance, one of those girls, Swan?"

She straightens up, trying to ignore the twinkle in Killian's eye and the simultaneous eye-rolls from David and Mary-Margaret.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Perhaps I would."

_Yeah, and I'm way past the perhaps stage over here, buddy._

Emma starts for her trailer, looking back over her shoulder only when she is a few feet away.

"I could have produced the same results in a lot less time, Mary-Margaret. Just so you know, for next time Mister Jones needs his face messed up."

_Nailed it._

/

Emma packs her book and checks her watch. 15:46. Killian will be shooting in less than 15 minutes.

She bites her lower lip in indecision. The thing about near-death (and everybody should really stop calling it that because _come on_) experiences was that while they make you wanna seize control and get all those things missing from your life, they don't exactly install in you the courage necessary to do so.

So, yeah, after their 'rocky' episode she went to Killian with 'thank you' instead of 'I think I'm half in love with you'.

_Maybe after a couple more near deaths I'll get that one out there. Optimistically speaking._

There was a sharp knock on her door.

"Emma, are you staying to watch?"

She sighed at David's excited tone but then immediately perked up because _hello, good enough excuse_. A super awesome stunt scene that literally everybody and their agent was staying to watch was a pretty damn good excuse for her to stay as well, right?

_Right._

/

"I used to think those scenes were like… photoshop-ed or something."

"You've been in the film industry for over 6 years, Swan," exclaimed Killian with an absolutely appalled look on his messed up face.

"I said _I used to_!" Emma looks at the huge metal monstrosities a few feet away. "Still I've never actually seen one shot."

"Well, you never forget you first," winked Killian, sauntering forward. "Watch and learn, Swan."

She rolled her eyes but she couldn't quite help the little thrill she felt sneaking up her spine. She thought it was excitement (she could literally feel David bouncing on his feet to her left) but it felt a bit more like foreboding.

Emma shook her head. There was nothing that could go wrong with this, scary badass as it would look on the big screen. Killian had his moves down. She had watched him train (totally by chance, totally not for half an hour).The huge metal circles with their razorblade ends were completely harmless so that even if Killian did mistime his jumps and twists through them, the worst would be having to shoot the whole thing again. And looking at him stand on his hands and walk forward a bit experimentally… well, she was pretty damn sure he had it covered.

"OK, Jones, enough posing around. Let's get this over with so we can get to the important parts."

_Regina Mills, party pooper extraordinaire, everybody._

He messed it up the first time, landing a bit shakily after his second somersault and Emma's eyes sought his despite her own reassurances.

_This isn't right._

Killian grinned at her, high on adrenalin, confident and reckless. The combination spoke to something strong and primal inside her just as it made her fingers twitch nervously.

_I got this, love._

The second time he was perfect. The twists exquisite and perfectly timed. Perfectly timed with the blades he had been training with earlier. The fake ones. The ones that he was supposed to be shooting with.

The ones he wasn't shooting with.

He placed his whole weigh on his left hand, ready to throw his body forward and Emma felt her stomach lurch the second before the mistimed blade sliced through his flesh.

The camera kept rolling as Emma screamed milliseconds before Killian. It kept rolling as everybody else yelled and gasped and rushed around seconds afterwards. It kept rolling as Mary-Margaret cried out and David clutched her shoulder tightly, face white as a fresh sail. It kept rolling as Emma sank to her knees, gasping, eyes wide with absolute horror. It kept rolling as Killian fell on the ground, shaking and cradling his wrist.

_Killian. Blood. So much blood._

Not the kind Mary-Margaret had painted on him earlier.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, Killian just lost his hand. Don't hate me too much!


	10. Chapter 10

Emma's back slides against the cold wall with difficulty until she is nothing but an ungraceful heap on the hospital floor. Everything has been happening with difficulty in the last few hours – moving, talking, listening to the medics, following the ambulance-

_Isn't an ambulance supposed to move fast, for fuck's sake?!_

\- finding her way around the hospital, nodding to the jumble of words coming out of David's mouth, breathing in and out. _Waiting._ Waiting is the hardest of it all.

She feels like she has been counting her breaths since the moment she felt the floor on set come up to meet her (and him). She thinks they are quite irregular.

Her one coherent thought is the silent prayer that he is taking each one with her.

Emma is completely unfamiliar with this, has never been in this position before. And she is utterly, terribly unprepared for it. The hospital waiting room, the people rushing past her, the feeling of being tied to a place by somebody, the feeling of having somebody.

_Having somebody._

She snorts mirthlessly, almost manically. She doesn't have shit. She is half-lying on a dirty floor in a crowded hospital, her limbs shaking with the combination of emotional exhaustion and almost physical horror, because of somebody she refused to even have coffee with.

David is in front of her again and words are coming out of his mouth again. Can't he just realize already how pointless talking is?

/

White is such a startling colour.

This is the first thought, disconnected from Killian, that flashes through her mind.

She thinks that might be why doctors wear it. For authority. To get your attention, to draw you out of your shock and misery – at least for the few minutes they need that attention focused on them.

They couldn't do anything for his hand but he was stable now. There is talk about blood loss and nerve endings but she doesn't get any of that over the words stuck on an endless loop in her head.

_He is stable. He is stable. Stable. Stable._

Stable is probably the one thing Killian has never been.

She is probably the only person in the world more frazzled than him.

/

She hasn't seen Ruby since that pivotal Saturday.

_Funny word. Pivotal._

For most it was probably a Saturday like any other. Maybe one where the hangover was a bit harder to shake or the one-night stand a bit more difficult to get rid of but an ordinary Saturday nonetheless.

For her it is the night that Killian Jones became irreversibly entwined with her very being. She is pretty sure there must be something seriously messed up with her that she needed to see him at his worst to fully realize how much she wanted more than just his best.

To realize she wanted _everything_.

Ruby has been talking to the doctor and she looks calm in a way that Emma cannot even attempt to fake. Then again, if she isn't completely mistaken, Ruby has been preparing for this moment for years and in her eyes the fact that Killian is in the ICU and not in the morgue is probably all that matters.

It takes a few seconds but Emma realizes it is all that matters to her too.

"I'm sorry."

Emma's mind is too scattered to piece together a more adequate reply than 'Huh?'

"I'm sorry for yelling at you at the bar. And thanks. For going after him. I haven't seen the blasted bike since."

_Probably because I still have the keys._

"How did- I mean, the doctor told me what's going on but how-" Ruby's words get stuck in her throat and her composure is close to breaking.

Emma hurries to reply before that happens. She doesn't think she will be able to take Ruby breaking as well.

"I don't know. I- " her voice sounds rough and she realizes this is the most she has spoken in too many dehydrated hours. "It shouldn't have. It shouldn't have happened… these things… the-the wheels… the…"

Her hand is shaking as it passes through her hair and Emma grits her teeth, trying to get a hold of herself for a damn minute.

"There wasn't supposed to be anything dangerous in there… I don't… that fucking set has been a walking mine field. I think…"

She has been feeling cold for so long that the fire that suddenly flares up inside her nearly knocks her off her feet.

_Somebody did this._

She knows it like she knew something didn't feel right the second they started filming. She knows it in her blood and it is _burning_.

"Emma?"

She looks up to see that Ruby has taken a step back from her and she is hardly surprised. She can feel the aggression and anger vibrating in the air around her.

"Somebody did this," it passes through her teeth on a hiss that visibly makes Ruby shiver even as her eyes harden in an imitation of Emma's.

"If this was planned…"

Emma wholeheartedly approves of the brunette's tone.

"Filming will be stopped. The police will dig through everything and everyone," she sure as hell hopes they do or she will shove their faces into the mess herself. "We will find out."

_And then what?_

Right now, knowing somebody did this, prepared and executed a plan to have Killian maimed, probably killed… putting them in jail is the last thing on her mind.

But then another gurney passes her by and the cold seeps back in and she just can't find it in herself to think about anybody but the man lying in the ICU and fighting his way through another of fate's fucked up jokes.

/

She has been in the hospital somewhere between four and seven hours now.

Somewhere between those four or seven hours Emma Swan has realized that she is a lot more than half way in love with her dashing idiot of a co-star.

As it turns out one more near-death experience was enough to push her over the age. It just wasn't her near-death that did it.

/

She is glad Ruby is the only one allowed to see him at first. Even as her skin prickles with the need to see him and touch him and make surethat_ there is still a him_, she is aware that she is too torn apart to be what he needs right now.

'_Selfish' is the word you are looking for, Emma. _

Because she doesn't want to see his face when he remembers what happened, when he realizes he will never be standing on his hands as if it's child's play again. He will never be doing anything with two hands again.

She wants to be there for him and she can't just yet and for that she hates herself more than she ever has before.

/

By the time they are actually allowed to see him, there is a momentary lull in the hospital's buzzing and Ruby has managed to convince David and Mary-Margaret to go home, get some sleep, some food, take a shower and come back whenever they can, she has also completely failed at convincing Emma to do the same.

She does however manage to force a plastic cup of water into the blonde's hand, trying to crack a smile and point out that Emma probably looks worse than the guy that came out of surgery only hours ago.

She's not entirely wrong.

Killian's make up has been cleaned off and except for the fact that he is whiter than she has ever seen him before he looks like he is in the hospital just to catch some shut eye and get fawned over by the nurses. And then there's the bulging bandage at the end of his left wrist that twists her insides and makes her wanna throw things around like a five-year-old that just doesn't understand why the world works the way it does.

_Scratch that. 28 fucking years and I still don't get it._

She has drifted near his bed almost unconsciously and her hand reaches out, basically steady compared to how it was trembling an hour ago, her fingers making contact with the mess that is his hair.

The man has ridiculously soft hair that literally begs you to run your fingers through it so Emma feels only a twinge of embarrassment at how often she has imagined doing this. The circumstances though were never even close to what they find themselves in right now and her fingers start shaking harder again even as she bites the inside of her cheek, trying to reign in her emotions.

Killian's eyes flutter open before she is ready.

_As if I will ever be._

His face might be untouched but his eyes are not and Emma feels her already shaky breath back into her throat at the dull pain in his gaze. She thinks it's the dull part that gets to her the most, the missing flicker of mischief, the way his irises seem a tone less vibrant somehow.

"Hey, handsome."

Her voice cracks experimentally and she twists her lips into what she hopes represents a reassuring smile.

Killian's grimace is probably a good mirror for her attempt but his gaze softens with appreciation for her efforts.

"I'm afraid I might need to take a rain check on that steamy scene we had coming up, Swan."

He sounds the _almost _same but quieter and she feels like glaring at the machines all around him for being so damn loud.

"I have time," she whispers back and focuses her gaze on the way her thumb and forefinger seem to be testing the texture of a strand of his hair.

Killian seems somewhat oblivious to the physical contact and more or less unsure of the tangibility of the whole moment.

"It would've been a real good thing right about now, if you were a blood and scars kinda girl," he cracks weakly.

"Never said I wasn't," she shoots back immediately, the memory of their silliness mere hours ago tugging hard at something beneath her breast even as she smiles genuinely for the first time since she stumbled into the hospital.

Killian huffs and there's a stubborn sort of dismissal in the sound that makes her frown.

"Emma?"

Ruby's head pokes into the room before she can say another word and both actors fix their gazes on the obviously flushed brunette.

"Sorry but I would reeeeally appreciate some help dealing with the reporters that have magically appeared outside and look like they are getting ready to storm a fortress."

Emma's immediate annoyance turns into full-blown fury when she sees Killian cringe slightly out of the corner of her eye.

_Nosey assholes._

The very idea that the fucking media is now dropping its weight on his shoulders makes her see red and she stalks towards the door, pausing only long enough to tell Killian that they can handle this (she has a very clear idea exactly how she wants to handle it).

_Yes, a very clear, very violent idea._

/

Almost two hours, innumerable glares and short clipped replies later, after Ruby has had to physically restrain her from punching a journalist in the face (twice!) and then had nearly punched one herself, Emma has officially made up her mind.

She is stealing Killian Jones and hiding him from this damn, stupid, fucked-up world.

* * *

This is quickly becoming one of my favourite writing endeavours and I sincerely hope I manage to touch you with it. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

"Filming has been officially stopped and the police are supposedly looking into everyone concerned with the movie from director Regina Mills to every extra that filmed alongside hotshots Emma Swan and Killian Jones. Or shall I say ex-hotshots? Seeing as Mr. Jones has yet to face the media and is less than likely to be gracing our screens again anytime soon and Miss Swan's last public 'statement' when something like 'do you need me to show you where to shove that camera, you nosey asshole?' Charming really. Saying that the actress has been visiting the hospital where Jones has been holed up for the last four days regularly would be a gross understatement since Miss Swan seems to almost live by her co-stars bedside. Personally, I would have prefered a fully functioning Killian Jones but-"

Emma throws the remote on the counter with so much force that the batteries fly out and roll somewhere under her fridge.

'_fully functioning' _

_Mother-fucking, frigid bitch!_

Emma thought she hated the media, Emma didn't know what hating the media felt like until four days ago. She has never in her life felt so much pent-up aggression and frustration welling up inside her every time she turns on her TV.

'_fully f-'_

_I'm going to kill somebody. See how they meddle in people's lives from under six feet of dirt._

What has her almost as frustrated as the fucking journalists is the fact that, despite her accurately reported almost constant presence in the hospital, that bedside comment wasn't entirely accurate. Killian seems to shy away from any form of communication with her. Her texts go unanswered more often than not and he usually cuts her visits short after no more than 15 minutes, pleading tiredness even when she knows he has just woken up.

She can be patient but she is also growing increasing worried that this pattern of almost ignoring her is not going to change when he gets out of the hospital.

_And that just won't do._

/

"Hey!" she puts on her most cheerful smile and tries to not let it weaver in the face of the half-hearted twitch of his lips.

"Swan," he says over-courteously. "You seem to have a lot of free time on your hands."

She thinks she should be better at not cringing at the word when he himself doesn't.

"Well, my last engagement kinda fell through, you know."

She tries to make a joke out of it, the way he so effortlessly seems to do day after day, and immediately wants to kick herself for even trying when Killian's face goes blank for a second and then a tight lipped smile, that is not a smile at all, pulls painfully at it.

"Aye. I do apologize for that."

Emma almost reaches out to put her eyes back in their sockets.

"You don't have to-" she starts, shock and indignation rising up immediately and she has gotten so used to jumping to his defense in the last four days that she is not at all above doing it now, even if it's himself she has to defend him from.

"Now, now, Swan" Killian chides her, an almost mocking look on his still too-pale-for-her-liking face. "You and I both know I was asking for it."

"You were-" she sputters, that indignation coming forth so fast and violent that it almost chokes her.

If he wasn't in a hospital bed she would be throttling him right about now.

"You were not asking for it," her voice is like steel, a sliver of warning sliding over it to top off the effect. "You were doing your job. And doing it well. Just because some sick asshole was conspiring to-"

"If it wasn't that it would've been something else," Killian says evenly and looks away from her.

He is not as angry as he should be, if he is angry at all. He is definitely not as angry as she is and since the real target of her anger is still unclear he is in real danger of bringing in down on himself.

"Shut up!" she outright yells at him, disbelief colouring her words more than rage to her own surprise. "How can you even say that?! You are nothing but the victim in thi-"

Killian's laugh is sharp and mirthless and it makes something cold gather in the pit of her stomach.

"I know how a victim looks, darling, and trust me, I'm not one."

She opens her mouth to argue but he cuts her off and it's his eyes that hit her even harder than his words.

"Now, if you are quite done with today's pity date, maybe I can catch some sleep?"

She wants to say so many things.

She wants to say that he better get every single one of those ridiculous ideas out of his head. She wants to say that he should stop ignoring David and MM, and even his sister when he could swing it. She wants to say that there have been so many emotions raging inside her these days and pity is not one of them (even if she has never felt for somebody as much as she feels for him with every second that passes). She wants to stupidly latch onto the word date and turn it around so it is something hopeful and bright and not the twisted, cold thing he spit it out as. She wants to tell him to stop being a selfish prick because _she misses him_. She wants to tell him she-

"Fuck you, Killian."

That's all she has time for as she storms out of his room so that he doesn't see the tears stinging her eyes.

/

Emma Swan can be a stubborn ass when she wants to be.

Which is why she hasn't seen Killian Jones in a week. Not for lack of trying, mind you. At least not at first.

She called twice later that very day. No answer. She wasn't all that surprised. If it was her, she would have her phone turned off these days too. She switched to texting him anyway (because she has heard his phone ping-ing annoyingly while visiting him and she knows the bastard is too proud to hide from anyone - oh, no, Killian Jones was going to walk out with his usual swagger and fuck-you smirk and just keep on walking, passing all the gaping fans and journalists and friends, and her apparently).

She was this close to going back to the hospital the day after when she received his text.

'I think we have been forced into each other's company enough the last couple of months, don't you, Swan?'

Yeah, that's when the stubbornness set in. Because if the bastard felt so inconvenienced by being 'forced into her company' then she sure as hell wasn't going to put his through such torture anymore.

That particular well-fuck-you-too attitude lasted all of two days (spend consuming too much caffeine even for her standards and reading ridiculous scripts and unconsciously casting him in all her favourite roles and ugh, _bastard_!) Two days before she was texting Ruby, threatening her with shoe murder, if she told Killian they have been in contact.

Because as badly as Emma Swan needs to protect her burnt heart and nurse her wounded pride, she needs to know that he is alright more.

So here she is – aware that Killian has been at home for the last 3 days now and has barely even spoken to his sister in that time. Here she is – acknowledging that she cannot even imagine how he feels but she wants to help and _why won't he let her?!_ Here she is – pretending that she cares about David's tentative attempts to find her a new role as a distraction. Here she is – acting like she is not seething at the mere fact that the police questioned her yesterday instead of doing their fucking job and she wants answers, dammit (a part of her believes that once the truth comes out everything will fall back into place and she won't feel this rage eating at her at all times and he will be alright and he will let her back in like he did once and maybe they can finally- but most of her knows how silly that whole train of thought it). Here she is – fighting her desire to just pack a suitcase and fly half across the world, leaving her stupid heart behind because the damn thing gets her into the worst messes. Here she is – doing nothing but acting like a stubborn child and battling her instinct to just give up hope and get out while she still can (it's already too late). Here she is – feeling hurt and lost and yet absolutely convinced that _this is not how this ends_. Here she is – determined not to give up on Killian Jones.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** So this chapter took me awhile because I _really_ didn't want to mess it up. But today I went and read the whole thing again and all your lovely reviews and hell, they were damn inspiring and I'm actually really happy with how this turned out. Hope you like it at least half as much! Thanks to everybody for sticking around for this!

* * *

Emma unclenches her fist, the one hanging in the air, millimeters from the door's surface.

_Huh._

She takes note of her short, non-painted nails. She hasn't painted them since_ it_ happened and it's only now that she actually finds herself noticing. Which is beyond weird because she has spent a ridiculous amount of time just sitting and staring at both her hands in sick fascination.

She has started paying close attention to everything she does with both hands. Making her bed, washing her hair, holding scripts, opening whiskey bottles, tying her freaking laces. If anybody asks, she will probably deny trying to do them all with one hand. She will deny failing miserably even harder.

Her hand clenches into a fist again and Emma takes a deep breath before knocking on the door she has been standing in front of for the last 16 minutes. She winces at how loud it comes off. Did she knock so hard because she is afraid she won't gather the courage to do it twice? Perhaps.

_Most likely._

But before she can start bribing her emotionally courageous side to come out and play after years of hiding, she hears footsteps on the other side of the door.

She knows it's him. And not because of some_ feeling_ or connection or whatever but because she called Ruby to check when she will be out.

It took her two weeks to get the nerve to do this. She made damn sure she was doing it right.

The door opens before she is fully prepared for it. Then again, Emma doubts she ever will be. He is still so devastatingly handsome. And if his wide eyes and slightly open mouth are any indication he was most definitely not expecting her. Not yet anyway.

So many things flash through his eyes that if she didn't know how expressive they were and wasn't paying such close attention to them to begin with, she probably would've missed it all. But she doesn't. She sees the shock and she swears, tells herself again and again, that she catches a glimpse of exhilaration, almost joy, and then there's guilt, palpable and potent in his gaze and then that guarded look that tells her he doesn't want to feel any of those things.

"Swan," he says eventually with a nod, as if he has resigned himself to those bothersome human emotions they both seem so allergic to, as if he has expected her all along (it both exhilarates and frustrates her).

_Still a smug bastard._

All her carefully thought-out opening lines fly back down the stairs and she curses after them.

_Traitors. _

Now she kinda wishes she went with her initial idea and brought some of that hot chocolate she has been dying to introduce him to since day 2.

_Trusting a plastic cup of hot liquid at someone you haven't seen in two weeks after a slightly less than friendly chat is acceptable, right?_

Thankfully Killian postpones the need for words by opening the door wider and waving her in with a sardonic bow, as if he doesn't have the energy to put up a fight and knows that one is inevitable if he tries to keep her on his doorstep.

_Damn right!_

"Make yourself as home. I guess," he shrugs kind of uncomfortably and walks towards an open and spacious kitchen that she is confident neither him, nor Ruby have used like… ever.

Emma hates herself just a little bit for taking the opportunity to observe him when his back is turned. He seems impossibly thinner to her. Can somebody lose a noticeable amount of weight in less than a month.

_This is freaking Hollywood. People lose more in a week._

His complexion is still not as healthy as she would have liked. His shoulders are still as broad and Emma feels a rush of pride at not finding them hunched forward. Killian is a fighter. That much she has never doubted. The bandage at the end of his left arm is less of a shock than she expected it to be.

She twists around and she doesn't exactly feel at home as she inspects his living room but finds it frighteningly easy to imagine herself feeling that way. The hammock in the corner across from her is so ridiculous and so_ him_ that she can almost see some of her tension slide slowly down and away from her.

"I apologize for the mess but I'm taking a break from being 'the tidy one' and Ruby is really not picking up the slack."

She swirls around, finding Killian a couple of feet behind her, offering her a glass of water.

She wants to ask if he has always been the tidy one. She wants to ask about all the meds scattered over his coffee table because she really didn't think he would need that many meds (and she thinks about what he might need quite a bit). She wants to ask if he didn't get a drink for himself too because he didn't want to struggle with two glasses.

_Yeah, Emma, why don't you open with that last one?_

"David's mad you missed the game last Sunday."

_Really?!_

Killian seems to find her opening sentence more appropriate than she does because he cracks a half-smile and hell, she counts that as a win and reaches for the glass in his hand, trying to both brush her fingers against his and at the same time avoid the cliché 'spark upon contact.'

"I texted him beforehand," he says as if it is more than enough.

It's certainly more of an effort than she thinks most people would make.

"He must feel quite special," Emma replies and she swears she didn't mean to start sounding so bitter so soon.

"Right," Killian looks away from her and his right hand reaches behind his ear and she is infinitely glad it has always been his right hand he scratched that spot with. "I'd say sorry but I do believe in what I said, Swan. That a break was called for."

'_Swan.'_

She likes it. Always has. Yet she secretly craves one of his flirty pet names. Craves it like she did his presence and his stupid blue eyes for the last two weeks.

"Are you done taking a break?" she asks, bolder than she imagined herself capable of being.

Is that what she used to be like? When she really wanted something? When she really cared about something?

_It's been so long, I've forgotten._

His shock is almost a physical presence between them, his look is appraising and it is quite ridiculous, how this is the first time she thinks that maybe it wasn't both of them that he wanted a break for.

"What do you want, Emma?"

She wanted a pet name. But her actually name almost makes her gasp. The way it ends between his lips. Delicate, confused, exhausted. Tortured.

She doesn't want to torture him dammit! She wants anything but that. He has had more than enough of that.

_So much more._

"I-"

"It was her ex," he cuts her off suddenly and Emma doesn't know if he does it for her benefit or for his. "My ex's ex."

She must look beyond confused because he takes a deep breath and focuses his eyes on her, looking as if he is trying to give her something. And she gets a feeling of what that something might be and she doesn't like it one bit.

"Milah. The one I… mentioned," he shuffles a bit in front of her, looks down at his feet and it's only then that she realizes he is barefoot and it makes him look devastatingly vulnerable.

Lots of things about him seem devastating to her. In all senses of the word.

"She was married. Split up with her husband when we started getting serious. But they were still married when-" he cuts himself off and she wonders what it's like to have your tragedies so interwoven that you can't talk about one without running into the other.

She has her tragedies cleanly separate. Her parents. Foster care. Neal.

She texted him about her parents three days ago. He had asked her once, not long after they had 'taken on' Regina together. About her family. She had shut him down. And then three days ago for the first time in almost 10 years Emma Swan felt like sharing. She felt like connecting with someone.

_Felt like connecting with _him_._

So she texted him. An admittedly short but no less genuine version of her sordid beginnings. He didn't reply. She asked him not to at the end of her sorry little tale. She just wanted to finally answer the damn question. She didn't want to blackmail him into responding with a sob story. She knew he would have. It was why she asked him not to.

"Anyway," Killian's voice brings her focus back on him, on his hand gesticulating expressively but somewhat warily between them. "Police called me just yesterday. They haven't brought him in yet but they are pretty sure it's her ex. His name was buried deep under some of the film's financing. The blades were traced to a steel factory connected to his own company. Something else too... The cops had a ton of bloody connections they expected me to follow at 8 am."

Emma's eyes widen because even when she _knew_ she still couldn't entirely comprehend that their set had been so soaked through with ugly plans and lurking demons.

"I'm sorry," she says because her brain is working too hard to communicate a more meaningful line to her lips.

"Yeah, well," Killian's smile is grim and cruel in a way that is too internalized for her liking. "As I said – brought it on myself more or less."

"Killian-" she raises her voice dangerously fast before taking a calming breath.

She will open that can of worms later.

"They are going to throw his ass in jail, right?" she asks instead, barely recognizing the blood-thirsty edge to her voice.

"Probably," he nods, eyebrows furrowed together. "Might make some of you guys testify. Since you were there and-"

"Of course, we'll testify!" she interrupts.

_Will gladly arrest, judge and sentence the bastard!_

"Right," he nods again, looks at her and swallows and she doesn't know what he is preparing himself for but her stomach knots together at the war she can see him waging with himself. "So that's that, I guess."

And there it is. His little present just for her. _Closure._

Man, is she going to enjoy throwing that back in his face.

"That's what, Killian?" she asks, stepping forward, invading his personal space the way he taught her through his numerous examples.

He waves his hand around, lets out an exasperated sigh.

_As if she is the one making this difficult._

"How the story ends? Mystery resolved and all that."

"Is that how the story ends?" she swears she has no control over the little waver in her voice.

"Swan-" he flinches so suddenly she thinks she has stepped on his toe or something. "Bloody hell!"

Killian swirls around and is down the hallway before she can even register what just happened.

She hears him slam a door somewhere further in the apartment and starts towards the sound before she has the chance to think it over.

The door to Ruby's bedroom is ajar and she is about to open what is probably his bedroom door when she hears the water running behind the door on her left. She presses her hand to the cool wood, listening to the sound of water hitting porcelain in a steady stream. It's not until she identifies a hiss of pain under the white noise that she curls her non-manicured fingers into a fist and pounds on the door.

"Killian?"

"Need-" he seems to stop himself and take a breath so that he can get through the whole sentence. "Need a sec, Swan."

Emma is itching all over to just barge in and run her eyes over him but she manages to restrain herself, if barely, leaning her weight on her arm that is still pressed to the door from fist to elbow.

"Do you need anything?"

She strains her ears and bites her tongue to keep from yelling at him to shut off the damn water. She catches a muffled curse and then there's the sound of plastic hitting tile and she is this close to just wrenching the door open.

_His privacy be damned!_

"Buggering-" Killian sighs and she knows he is closer to the door now. "C-could… Could you grab some aspirin… coffee table."

Emma rushes back towards the living room, knocking a bottle of Advil as she grabs hastily for the aspirin, realizing with a start that almost all the pills on the table are different sorts of painkillers.

She is both unnerved and relieved when she finds that he has shut off the water when she comes back. She knocks twice and opens the door before he can say anything.

Killian looks up when she enters the bathroom, his back against the tub as he sits on the tiled floor, legs stretched out in front of him, his left arm cradled in the inside of his right elbow and his teeth embedded in his bottom lip.

He doesn't look too happy to see her but then he squeezes his eyes in obvious pain, his teeth sinking deeper and a drop of blood breaking through the abused skin of his lip. She drops down next to him and when his eyes open they focus desperately on the bottle in her hand.

Emma grits her teeth together and stands up, grateful for the glass on his sink because she can't conceive of having to exit the bathroom in search of one. Filling it up with cold water, she kneels back down and shakes out a pill from the bottle, her hands embarrassingly unsteady and taking their time with the simple task.

"Two," he grits out and she gives him a look even though she knows she won't be able to refuse him anything right now.

She did her research. Phantom pains were described with the word 'pain' accompanied with every adjective imaginable before it – sharp, shooting, burning, aching. When she read 'indescribable' she slammed her laptop shut.

"Don't worry, Swan," Killian's voice is strained but his crooked smile manages to convey more amusement than she thinks appropriate. "I've always found only liquid substances somewhat addictive. If Ruby and the good doctors hadn't forced all of those pills on me I would've been more than happy. And then probably bashes my head against the wall."

She shakes her head along with another pill.

_Yup, still an idiot._

Emma brings her palm to his mouth and for all the pain she can see in his blue gaze the bastard still lifts an undeniably suggestive eyebrow at her. She just narrows her eyes at him and can tell that he is about to make her say something ridiculous when another wave of pain hits him and he literally trembles beside her, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his lips open. Emma rushes to pop the pills in his mouth and bring the glass of water to his lips.

Killian swallows everything and shakes his head, groaning in a combination of pain and frustration that snaps the last of her restraint and she reaches for him, one hand wrapping around his left bicep while the other finds the back of his head, sinking into the soft strands and feeling the light sheen of sweat breaking out on the back on his neck.

He furrows his eyebrows but another shudder cuts short what she can bet was an objection and makes him lean into her, however slightly.

"It says you should distract yourself, try to keep your mind off the pain," she says, as her hand slides around to rub at his shoulders.

"What does, lass? Captain Hook's diary?"

_Note pet name usage. Celebrate later._

"People in excruciating pain are not supposed to be funny."

"I've had worse."

_So not making it better._

"And I'm genuinely… genuinely interested. Did Captain Hook have a diary?" he takes a shuddering breath and her hand slips a little down his left bicep, only to hurry back up when she feels him flinch away slightly. "Because… you see, I keep telling Ruby… I'd fit right into that role now."

She chuckles and it comes out all choked up and fuck!

_You cannot cry right now, Emma! Get it the fuck together! You are not the one allowed to cry here!_

"If waxed mustaches and perms are your thing," she manages to get out because if he wants to joke about this he is braver than she is but she can learn.

She _wants_ to learn.

"I don't know," Killian leans his head back and she lets her fingers tangle in his hair again, encouraged by his lack of protest. "I remember something about Mr. Barrie describing him as quite the handsome fella."

"Hmmm," Emma leans forward until her nose is just lightly brushing his cheek. "You just might fit in, I guess."

She feels his swallow slowly, feels the anticipation burning. The good kind of burn. Not the painful one but the one that's warm and full of promises.

Then she feels him put it out, feels the cold slide slowly down his being and soak into hers as he clears his throat.

"I think the painkillers are kicking in."

She pulls back so he doesn't have to but somehow he is still the one severing the connection. And she is so close to breaking down, so frustrated with the distance he keeps putting between them.

_Artificial distance that has no place there!_

But for all of his closed off expressions and rigid muscles, something is creeping into his eyes right in front of her and she knows she is taking his defenses down one by one. So she pulls back but stubbornly holds on to his arm.


	13. Chapter 13

I know, I know, but worry not the angst is coming to an end. Now enjoy the first taste of Killian's thoughts ;)

* * *

4:23pm.

Her eyes are glazed over, staring straight ahead at the little bell, swinging innocently above the door. 23 minutes ago she sat down in the exact spot that is now becoming more and more uncomfortable with each booming tick of the mean clock above the counter. 23 minutes ago she fixed her eyes on that bell with all the hope and excitement of a child rushing into the sea for the first time.

Emma feels her vision blur and shakes her head briskly, blinking until the damn bell comes back into focus.

4:35pm.

As two mugs of untasted hot cocoa turn cold on the small table in front of her, Emma wonders how she missed the disaster heading her way, wonders what made her so damn blind that she walked right into it, welcomed it with open arms, fucking directed it her way.

_Only one thing on this world that turns a person into that big of a fool._

She settled into a routine so easily after that day in Killian's apartment. Let herself be lulled into a sense of security. A sense of possibility.

Waking up. Shooting him a quick text. Putting her phone aside and going for a run (to avoid checking for a reply every 20 seconds). Coming back (checking her messages before she has even taken off her trainers). Taking a shower. Sitting down to some toast and coffee and trying to jog down some ideas for her project (calling it even that makes her cringe and she feels so beyond foolish and yet…).

Killian usually answers just when her words have started flowing and she curses the bastard's abysmal timing but drops everything to check his reply anyway. He is hardly opening up but at least they have moved past the avoidance stage so she counts it as a win.

'_Plans for the day, Jones?'_

'**That's an ungodly hour you wake up at, Swan.'**

'_more than 7 hours in bed is wasting your life'_

'**You obviously don't spend your time in bed right then.'**

'_are you offering to educate me?"_

…

…

'**Hate to disappoint but evil physicians and even eviler lawyers are set on monopolizing my time these days. Have a doctor's appointment in a couple of hours.'**

…

'_want me to come with ?'_

…

'**Appreciate it, lass, but I'm sure I can tie my shoelaces, look both ways before crossing the street and make it there just fine.'**

…

'**Alright, scratch that first one. I don't have tying my shoes down yet.'**

'_Laces are so overrated'_

'**Among other things.'**

4:48pm.

They texted and talked on the phone for 5 days. And even if he didn't let her come to the doctor's with him he did call her up whenever he got tired of waiting around and browsing old magazines.

"**2009?! I'm not sure I'm comfortable around things manufactured in a previous decade."**

"You_ were 'manufactured' in a previous _century_, doofus."_

"**Previous century is vintage. Previous decade is merely old news."**

"_Good to know. I'll make sure to tell the casting directors that when they start telling that I'm too old to play a college student."_

"**Worse ways to go out in Hollywood…"**

…

"_I'm… ummm, working on something. A-a project. Of sorts."_

"**Yeah? Please, tell me Dave is not putting you in a cape."**

"_Hah, no, no. More like a princess dress. And it's not… it's not David putting me in it, it's… it's nothing."_

"**A princess? Well, I have to say you have the 'I give the orders, I don't take them' thing down."**

"_It's nothing really… is that your nurse?"_

"**Indeed. If I wasn't talking to you the whole time, I'd say you made her come in at this precise moment and save you."**

"_Killian, drop it. I told you, it's _nothing_."_

"**Whatever you say, Your Highness."**

4:54pm.

"_There are pics of you in _Morning Celeb_."_

"**I'm afraid we will have to terminate our communication due to your abominable taste in reading material, Swan."**

"_Funny. David saw it. Part of the whole agent thing I guess."_

"**Aye, Ruby uses that excuse to sneak that trash into my home too."**

"_You do realize you're supposed to look bad on paparazzi photos, right?"_

"**But that would make them so damn happy with themselves."**

"_Point… So, you don't seem to have a problem with being caught out and about."_

"**I would hardly call going to see my lawyer 'out and about' but no, I do not care much for where or when or by whom I'm seen."**

"_Sooo… you wouldn't mind being seen in Granny's at 4pm tomorrow by me?"_

He said no, he wouldn't mind.

5:00pm.

_He lied._

/

3:57pm finds him across the street from Granny's which looks positively charming and at once nothing like the place he imagined Swan getting her caffeine from and exactly right for her – secluded, away from prying eyes and tireless paparazzi. And he would be damned, if he lets her taint the place with this mockery of a date she has finally talked herself into arranging.

He sees her when she arrives, looking up and down the street before opening the door and lingering at the entrance for a full minute, scouring the café for his familiar face he assumes.

Killian regrets agreeing to this for the 16th time today. But, no, this way she will get it for sure. This way she will be mad enough to stay away. Mad enough to cut him out of her life.

The thought makes him clench both his teeth and his one remaining hand and he looks down at where his left sleeve hangs limply.

They were a bad idea to begin with. A glorious, luminous, bad idea that made him feel more alive than he could ever remember feeling. And he was selfish enough to try and she was smart enough to back away but of course, this had to happen. _Something_ had to happen. It was only a matter of time.

And they are an even _worse_ idea now and it isn't like she doesn't see that. She must see it. Everybody must see it. And yet she is being… he doesn't even know anymore. Stubborn? Charitable? Ridiculous? Ridiculous sounds about right.

So he stands across from Granny's, the wind whipping his hair around and beginning to sting on his skin after the first half an hour. But she is still in there and Killian can't make himself leave before she does.

A bloody hour.

He has just about convinced himself that the place must have another entrance when she walks out, movements jerky as she wraps a scarf around her neck, shakes her head and buries her face as far into the soft-looking wool as she possibly can before almost jogging away from the small café and Killian Jones has hated himself plenty in his life but never as much as he does in this moment.

And he knows she doesn't even mean it, doesn't truly want to be with him, _can't_ truly want to be with him and yet…

He still never wanted to let her down.

He tells himself he has frozen half to death already and needs something warm to bring the life back into his remaining fingers. Tells himself he doesn't go in because it's the last chance he has for any semblance of being close to her.

Killian sits down (at the table she told him she would wait for him at because he is a glutton for punishment) and hasn't even reached for the menu yet when a to-go cup of something that smells sweet and cinnamon-y is dumped in front of him. Rather unceremoniously too.

"You're an idiot."

Killian whirls around in his chair, predictably indignant expression in place, and looks up at a woman twice his age and with twice as much life and fire in her pinky as he has in his whole body. She is looking at him over her glasses and giving him the most evil look he has ever been on the receiving end of. And that's saying something.

"And your service can stand some improvement," he shoots back.

"So can your time-telling skills," she deadpans and Killian tries very, very hard to keep him face impassive. "That girl waited for your sorry ass for a whole hour. And, let me tell you, I haven't seen her wait for anyone in the last year she has been coming here."

This time Killian cringes despite himself, looking down at the table where Emma must have sat not 10 minutes ago.

"That's hardly any of your business, milady" he says evenly, looking up at the woman with a grim smile. "But if it would earn me some peace and quiet, let me assure you that I'm not the person she should be waiting for."

"I'd say that's for her to decide," states the woman, her voice like steel, her eyebrow jumping up in challenge and her hand coming to rest on her hip, and it seems like she dislikes him even more now, something he thought quite impossible a second ago.

"Aye, and she did," he shoots back with a humourless grin, his temper rising to meet her uninformed judgment (he is pretty sure she knows who he is and knows who Emma is and yet, like most people, doesn't know the first thing about either of them). "You see, when I wanted to procure a drink in her company about a month ago she barely restrained herself from running in the opposite direction. But lo and behold, an appendage or two less make a man a much more attractive option it would seem."

He quirks an eyebrow (two can play that game) and watches her expression carefully. To her credit the old lady doesn't scan him in order to locate the deficiency that she has doubtless read about countless times in the last few weeks. She does however seem to think him even more of an idiot now. Another thing he thought impossible.

"Mhmm," she nods in a way that screams 'you poor, clueless sod' but turns around and Killian thinks that the conversation is surely over and he won't be pressured into defending his admittedly questionable choices any more.

But then, not two steps away from his table, the old woman stops and turns her head around, just enough for him to make out her profile and her stern yet somewhat sympathetic expression.

"You just make sure you drink that cocoa. Girl has been buying two every day for the last 3 months and leaving one to cool off on my counter. I'll be damned, if you don't finally try the damn thing."

Killian stares at the space where she stood long after she has returned to her place behind the counter. Then he promptly turns his gaze to his drink and stares at it for another ridiculously long stretch of time. The wheels in his head desperately trying to turn in a way that doesn't defy either the rules of mathematics or logic or both.

3 months.

When she hears her bell jingle painfully Granny glances at the small round table instead of at the door.

The cocoa is gone and she sure as hell hopes that boy has gone off in the right direction too.


	14. Chapter 14

He gets to her door in record time. Slightly out of breath and with a bit of a burn on his right hand where the hot cocoa sloshed and spilt. And he should really be more careful with his one remaining hand or Ruby is going to kill him for real this time.

Killian takes a deep breath and bangs on Emma's door, not giving himself time to prepare a speech because… well, a) she has waited for him long enough and b) just because she might actually want to be with him for real, it doesn't mean that they _should _and he is still a bit unclear on how dating him makes any sense and yeah, better knock before managing to talk himself out of it.

He didn't consider the possibility of her not opening. Which, in hindsight, he should have because he just snubbed, objectively speaking, one of the most beautiful women in America and, quite subjectively speaking, the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Emma!" he calls out, trying to come up with something that will make her open up because he really doesn't want to have that conversation through a bloody door. "Lass, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I'm sorry. Please, just open up so we can talk… ok?"

Apparently not, because the door remains firmly shut and stays that way in the face of all his subsequent probing and pleading.

"Alright. You don't want to talk to me, I get that. But you have to at least tell me so to my face, if you want me to give up," Killian slumps against the wall next to the blasted door and slides down until he is sitting on the floor. "I can be a patient man, Swan. And I'm quite comfortable out here."

He isn't comfortable in the slightest, least of all with Emma mad at him as she obviously is.

_Bloody hell, you really fucked up this time, Jones. _

Killian sighs in what sounds suspiciously like defeat despite his sincere intention to sleep in front of her door, if he has to. He gets the feeling that he might have to.

He looks down at the to-go cup he put on the ground before promptly assaulting Emma's door and finally takes a sip of the damn thing.

"Gods above, this is good."

"It is."

Killian's head whips around so fast he hears his neck pop, the sharp pain kind of overshadowed by the way his heart rate picks up and his brain decides to short circuit at the sight of Emma Swan – black heels, dark skinny jeans, soft white sweater, slightly disheveled blonde curls, suspiciously red eyes that make his stomach curl in on itself and a tub of Ben&amp;Jerry's under her arm.

He starts to stand up in the wake of being deserted by all words, let alone appropriate ones.

"Don't," she lifts her hand and he drops down much like a puppet with its strings cut off.

Emma moves to unlock the door and he doesn't know whether he is glad she wasn't inside before or devastated that she will probably just shut the door in his face again in a second.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she says as she inserts her key in the lock, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Some asshole stood me up and I had to go get some sugar-heavy reinforcements."

And with that the expected bang of her door echoes in his ears and Killian decides to accompany it with two only slightly quieter bangs of his head against the wall.

_What did you expect really?! _

Well, what he didn't expect was for Emma to come out again a couple of minutes later – in her socks, hair tied into a messy bun and with a now-open tub of ice-cream and a spoon sticking out of her mouth.

Killian opens his mouth to speak but Emma raises her hand again, sending his a warning look. He rolls his eyes this time but keeps quiet, giving her a look, silently asking her, if she just plans on torturing him all night.

Emma tilts her head to the side, eyeing him, considering it, and he can't help but lift an eyebrow and take a sip of the cocoa still in his hand. He tries to look concrete but it's kinda hard when she is driving him around the bend and won't let him _actually _apologize – with words and all.

"How long have you been out here?" she asks eventually, voice carefully emotionless.

Killian scrunches up his brows in confusion but fishes the phone out of his jacket pocket and calculates.

"20 minutes? 22?"

Emma takes her own phone out of her back pocket to check the time and gives a nod before taking a seat on the ground as well, leaving the door between them.

"I waited for you for an hour."

It's not as accusatory as he would have expected it to be but he can still hear the hurt in her voice and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second.

"I know, love. I'm sorry. I-"

"You have another 37 minutes to go."

"I- What?"

"I waited for you for an hour," she repeats. "Now you are gonna wait for me."

Killian opens his mouth to point out that she is _already here_ but then he thinks better of it and promptly shuts his gob. If his only punishment is waiting another half an hour, he is way luckier than he has ever considered himself. He doubts it but isn't going to take the risk of arguing with her.

"Stop staring at me."

She sounds as if it is obvious that he is not supposed to stare at her. His expression must be one of terrible confusion because Emma sighs in exasperation and fixes him with an annoyed look.

"Did I get to stare at you while I waited?" she asks, her eyebrow rising up with the question.

He desperately wants to make a comment about her implied desire to stare at him but thinks that will set him back at least another 3 hours.

"Point taken," Killian uses all his willpower to turn his head away from her.

It's 10 minutes later that he realizes exactly _how much_ he stares at Emma Swan when they are in each other's presence because this is bloody hard and feels terribly unnatural.

"You can drink your cocoa," she says around what sounds like a mouthful of ice-cream. "I did."

He thinks it very magnanimous of her. It gives him hope.

/

She would probably feel guiltier about making him sit there and stew in his guilt, if she wasn't eating her ice-cream. It serves to remind her that she was stood up by one Killian Jones less than 2 hours ago and planned to drown her sorrows in lots and lots of Cabernet and B&amp;J's.

Now? Now Emma isn't entirely sure what to do. And her phone says that in less than 5 minutes she will have to do_ something_.

For his part, Killian has finished his cocoa and is now just sitting there, running his hand through his hair every 20 seconds, rubbing at his left wrist almost unconsciously and clenching his jaw occasionally. His eye is twitching with the effort not to glance at her in a way that amuses her greatly. And Emma will take any bit of amusement and distraction so she doesn't focus on how guilty and_ lost_ he looks.

_He deserve _at least_ an hour after making me think I might never even see his stupid face again._

But once the time is up and he doesn't move or look at her, and Emma knows he will go along with this for as long as she forces him to, she sighs, gets up and moves to stand before him.

"Well?" she asks, trying to sound more exasperated than anxious.

She doesn't really know what else to say. She thinks her cards are all on the table, have been for awhile now.

_Time to let the audience know what _you _want, buddy._

"Permission to look at the art?" he asks half-jokingly, eyes still on his hand where it is playing with the cap on his empty cup.

Emma rolls her eyes and tries to suppress her smile and push down the bubble of stupid, no-good expectations rising inside her.

"No touching though," she says, failing miserably at curbing her amusement.

He looks up with a freaking pout and his eyes sweep over her in a way that must be meant to indicate that he will very much like to break that rule. But by the time his gaze locks with hers, Emma has gotten her blush under control and is nothing but serious. It seems to sober Killian up rather quickly and he stands up so that they are on the same level. At a stalemate.

_When are we not?_

She is tired. Emma is just so fucking tired of playing around and wasting time. So she does the unthinkable, which in fact has become a disturbingly regular occurrence around Killian Jones, and lets him see all the vulnerability she has been hiding from the world since before she can remember.

"What do you want, Killian?"

He asked her that mere days ago and then saved her from having to answer. She doesn't intend to show him the same courtesy. Mostly because she thinks it's no courtesy at all.

"I want you."

His candid answer stuns her and with how open she is trying to be, Emma literally stumbles backwards a step as if he slammed into her with his whole body.

"Then why won't you have me?!" she exclaims before she can stop herself, hearing her voice come out almost frantic with exasperation.

"Because I didn't think-" Killian raises his own voice before he cuts off abruptly but she gets it.

Not getting each other has never been one of their problems. Or so Emma thought. Apparently he didn't _get_ everything quite as well as she expected him to.

"That I wanted you too," she finishes for him and doesn't know if she is horrified or angry or anything anymore.

_God, how did I manage to pick out the biggest idiot of them all?_

"Then what the hell did you think I was-" this time Emma stops herself. "No, don't. Don't even answer that. I don't- I don't want to know what _bullshit_ you came up with-"

So she_ is_ kind of angry.

"Why are you here, if you didn't think-"

Killian bends down to pick up the to-go cup from Granny's and Emma gets a very bad feeling.

"I know it sounds a bit fairytale-like but this old lady showed up," he gives her a rueful grin. "Nothing like your typical fairy godmother but she did spin a fascinating tale."

"So you figured out I liked you and wanted to get you addicted to cocoa with cinnamon from the start," she says it with an eye-roll, sacrastically, jokingly, because it's not entirely true but it's still kinda true. "And rode in on your white horse?"

Killian's lips twitch and fall and she swears her heart goes with them, faithfully following the motion.

"It's not that simple though, is it?" he says with another failed attempt at a smile.

"Why not?"

And Emma sounds like the five-year-old who was just told the princess doesn't get a happy ending but-

_Why not?!_

"Because this isn't a fairytale, love," Killian lets his head drop against the wall and she is pretty damn sure it's so he doesn't have to look at her now after wanting to do so for the last hour. "Because you have the looks and the talent and the chance to make it _big_ while I have media vultures circling over me at all times as I bounce between lawyers and detectives and doctors and you don't know what you are trying to get yourself into, Emma, not really, and now I'm not even…"

He lifts up his left arm in a half-hearted gesture before he lets it drop back to his side and Emma feels her eyes sting and her heart beat furiously at her ribcage, trying to get out and closer to his. She takes pity on the poor, bleeding thing and moves closer, grabbing both of his wrists and pressing hand and stump to her chest.

Her heart isn't fairing much better in that position but at least Killian is looking at her now – eyes wide as saucers and mouth slightly agape. She can see that he means all of that, that he believes it, but she can also see his ocean-blue eyes begging her to prove him wrong.

_Oh, I intend to._

"Why do this?" he asks her and he is so honestly, openly, _painfully_ confused that Emma isn't the tiniest bit surprised or embarrassed as she feels the hot tears slide down both her cheeks, one pooling in the corner of her trembling mouth.

"Because I love you."

Shock and doubt and awe and something else she doesn't dare name herself flash through his eyes like a storm passing over the ocean and he opens his mouth but Emma is not sure she is ready to hear what he has to say and she has to get this out, in case this is her only chance.

"Whatever you say now it… This can be life. Life as we know it. But it can be a fairytale too," her voice is so earnest and as she says it, Emma realizes that she _believes it_. "It_ can_ be. I-I think everybody gets that one chance to make life a fairytale. And this is ours. And it's your choice. And-"

"Emma," he cuts her off, his eyes drinking her in and she tries not to hold her breath but her brain seems too focused on his face and his voice and his everything, to remember how the whole breathing thing works. "Just say 'And they lived happily ever after'."

She gulps.

"And they lived happily ev-"

"I love you too."

And then his mouth is on hers and he tastes like hot cocoa and she can feel his lips twitching up into a smile that _stays_ and her heart soars right along.

* * *

I want to thank everybody who has followed this fic and been incredibly patient while I tried to make it everything I wanted it to be. It is definitely one of my favourites to write and I hope you have enjoyed it at least half as much as I have.

I think we can all agree that there has been too little kissing in this fic so there will be one more chapter (and perhaps an epilogue ;)).


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: So, here it is. Story is M-rated now, just so you know xD and this is not as angsty as the first sentence suggests xD I hope it is an ending representative of what I've tried to make the whole fic - genuine. Both funny and angsty and fluffy and just sort of real. I might write an epilogue at some point. ;)

Hope you enjoy and thank you so much for every show of interest and support! Means the world! 3

* * *

Killian said life isn't a fairytale. He was right.

/

Ruby is the first to find out. Calling Emma when Killian's phone has died and he hasn't come home.

Ruby finds out and she is pissed.

Not about them. Naturally. She has 'shipped it' from the start. Her words, not Emma's. Or Killian's who didn't even know what the hell she meant.

"_You wanted us shipped out of the country?! I'm your favourite brother, Ruby! And your favourite client."_

"_You're my only brother, you idiot. And my only client."_

"_My point exactly!"_

No, Ruby is apparently pissed that they didn't call her the second they decided to 'get their heads out of their asses'. Again her words.

"_Ruby, it's been 7 hours!"_

"_I've been waiting for this for months, Emma! Months!"_

"_And we haven't?"_

"_And whose fault is that? And, oh, I'm sure all the sex you will be having now, that I very much do not want to hear about, by the way, will make it easier on you."_

Yeah, they can always count on the support of Killian's baby sister.

She also says the whole 'thing' will do wonders for their public images.

David agrees when he finds out three days later. And is more than a little indignant, not so much over being kept in the dark but rather over being kept there longer than Ruby.

Mary-Margaret is a mixed blessing, managing to get David off their backs and schedule about a dozen 'double dates' in the next month alone. All on a single breath.

The media response is not immediate because they have no desire to put their 'thing' under the spotlight. Killian has had more than enough of that in the last few weeks and Emma has never been overly fond of it to begin with. She loves being an actress, she_ puts up _with being a celebrity.

However, they are also not exactly hiding so three days later _Morning Celeb_ has them plastered on the front page, holding hands while leaving a small bakery. Emma cringes at the photo of her obviously explaining something to Killian with what looks like half a bear-claw in her mouth. The indulgent way he is looking at her almost makes up for it. Almost.

"_You look adorable."_

"_Shut up."_

"_Truly, Swan, I don't-"_

"_Killian? Shut. Up."_

"_But I-"_

"_I need a moment, okay?!"_

"_For what?"_

"_To come to terms with the fact that I'm not 'the hot one' in the relationship for the first time in my life!"_

He is never letting that one go.

The headlines start pouring after that. Emma gets tired of seeing herself referred to as 'the melted Ice Princess' after the tenth article.

"_Seriously? Can't they at least come up with something new?"_

On the other hand, it takes exactly one article associating Killian with the word 'damaged' for her to completely lose her shit and if he wasn't so damn wonderfully unconcerned about anything the press has to say, Emma swears she would have either sued or gotten sued for physical assault.

Social media is a whole different can of worms.

Ruby tries to get them to create Twitter accounts for weeks. She begs, she threatens, she even reasons with them. Mostly she annoys. At one point David is _this_ close to backing her up but Emma nips that one in the bud. She wasn't born yesterday - she did after all manage to get to Killian before his sister and convince him to take her side from the start, even when he looked far from opposed to the idea of having a reason to 'tweet' 140 characters about her to the world, among photo evidence, on a weekly (read: daily) basis.

Over her dead body. They are not entering the Internet purgatory that is Twitter.

That, of course, in no way means that Twitter remains impartial to their existence and their 'ship' status. Killian soon gives up on the notion of seeing his sister without her shoving her phone in his face to show him a tweet about them. Tweets in Ruby's definition range from 'disgustingly adorable' to 'see this! you should be doing this to her, if you aren't already'. Even Mary-Margaret blushes bright red and discreetly slides her phone over to Emma over hot cocoa and coconut cake one afternoon. Emma promptly spits out half of her drink.

Tumblr is not that bad. But Emma finds it somehow creepier. Yet… she may or may not have the 'killemma' tag bookmarked.

She actually has an Instagram profile from three years ago when she rejected one too many of David's offers and he literally forced her into dipping her very reluctant toes into at least one social network. Needless to say the account has exactly three photos on it – two of her on red carpets and one of a very full glass of wine. Killian bets her that he can crack her password in under an hour. She knows his chances are good from the start but stubbornness is not something that comes out only when it is convenient for you so, of course, she agrees. He guesses it on the 4th minute.

"_It was bloody 'cinnamon', Swan! I cannot even enjoy such an easy victory!"_

Oh, but he does. He very much enjoys exploiting the permission to use her account. And she doesn't even wanna talk about the 1 selfie per week clause he managed to sneak in the bet. Emma mostly concedes in order to keep his Twitter urges in check.

Facebook is not even discussed.

The day Killian finds _fanfiction _about them, Emma decides they are moving to a WiFi-less cabin in the woods.

/

The lawsuit against Gold takes way longer than she thinks it should and Killian can just about swing his lack of concern with the media, 98% of the time he is even genuine, she believes, but he sure as hell cannot hide how much the fucking trail is exhausting him and how much he doesn't want to see Gold's face ever again or drag up things that belong very much in the past.

But he is Killian and he keeps his head up at all times and has cold but honest stares for the courthouse and smart but sharp responses for the pressroom. And Emma can't decide between being proud of him and worried about him and protective and supportive and she is probably coming off as incapable of emotions altogether.

They haven't done anything as drastic as moving in together (though Emma admits to herself she has toyed with the idea a lot more than probably appropriate when you have been officially dating for less than a month) but after days spent in court Killian slips after her through her front door, into the safe haven of a place that smells like her and is kinda messy but kinda just right and has her there and he doesn't leave until he absolutely has to.

Emma rolls her eyes every time he tells her she is 'bloody magic' as she works as much of the tension out of his shoulders as she can but deep down she still likes those silly fairytale metaphors they use every so often and thinks she might not be magic herself but they definitely make some when together.

And then sometimes they don't.

Sometimes she wants him to look at a script for her and he just _won't _and she will accept it if he gives her an explanation but he _doesn't _and it gets her mad and she asks what the hell he has against her looking at new movie prospects and he fires back that he doesn't have a bloody thing except that she can make her own bloody mind about them and doesn't need his advice.

"I don't_ need_ it! I _want_ it!"

He usually softens at that. She doesn't.

They are both fucked up like that.

Killian is usually the first to get in a funk or play the brooding card while Emma tries to bottle it all up for as long as possible. But he is also the one to let it go first or try to be reasonable while she keeps firing until she is exhausted and has managed to either amuse him greatly or hurt him almost as much.

But she notices that they get better with time.

He can barely stare at a spot for 5 minutes with a furrow between his brows before she is slipping into his lap and nudging her nose into his cheek like an annoying puppy demanding attention.

The first time she does it he looks at her with so much astonishment and affection on his face that she can't help blushing.

"_What? You thought I couldn't be annoying?"_

"_Oh, I'm fairly aware of that ability of yours, darling. Ow! Watch the goods, Swan! I was not privy to your… well, adorably cuddly side."_

"_Mmm, neither was I."_

And then he _hardly_ let's her bottle anything up for safekeeping and later ammunition, getting whatever is bothering her out in the open before she has even fully realized that it bothers her.

"_You look absolutely lovely, Swan."_

"_I don't know. Mary Margaret said 'fancy' and Mary Margaret takes the whole feminine thing to a new level, and I don't, even after all those years on red carpets I can't-"_

"_And you don't have to. You just have to be. Any way you want. And you will be lovely. As always."_

/

Ruby would probably be appalled if she knew how far off the mark her sex comments always are.

And it isn't for lack of trying on Emma's part.

Yes, that's correct. Killian Jones, notorious playboy, rumoured womanizer, Hollywood heartthrob, is holding out on her.

Emma is this close to taking it personally and yet…

And yet she always notices when his left arm falls beside his thigh when they are on the couch, pressed together, lips brushing and tongues exploring with groping kept to a rather frustrating minimum.

And yet she always notices when she stays over and he takes the left side of the bed so he can drape his right arm over her waist and shove his stump under a pillow or two.

And yet she always notices when he comes up behind her sometimes and starts brushing his lips over her neck and she leans back and the second his stump brushes her arm he pulls back as if she has electrocuted him.

She notices and she tries to understand and she does which is why… she doesn't. Because she understands but _how can he be so stupid? _She thought they cleared this up. And then _she_ feels stupid because, of course, it isn't that simple and that easy to just 'clear that up'.

But then they come back to her place after the 'celebratory' dinner with his lawyers and he is in her bedroom and lowering the zipper of her dress and trailing his fingers down her spine as he goes – chastely, almost as if he is not entirely aware of how he is taking his time with the simple task and then the silk pools at her feet and Emma twists around before he can grab the pajama pants he keeps here and she… well, she attacks him. Arms thrown around his neck and mouth finding his and invading it so fast it makes her head spin a little. Probably makes his spin too because the next second they are tumbling onto her bed. And her hands are desperately mapping out the curve of his shoulders and leaving pinkish lines down his biceps and he is trailing kisses down her throat and definitely leaving a hickey for her to admire in the morning and nosing her bra aside and Emma thinks _FINALLY_. Her hands slip into his hair and press him even closer and she angles herself so that she can feel his hardness pressing just _there_. Killian nips at her collarbone and she almost goes and giggles but settles for sloppily trailing kisses down his whole face until she reaches his chest and noses down, down-

And then his stump brushes her thigh and he jerks under her, even if barely. But even that is too damn much for her at this point and maybe she should go for the whole heartfelt discussion solution but _didn't they do that already_? So she reacts a bit more…_ frankly_ than she normally will. But, in her defense, he is being plain ridiculous at this point.

So Emma growls –

"Oh, will you just touch me already!"

\- and promptly grabs his left arm and shoves it between her thighs - a place where the roughness of his scarred skin is more than welcome and in seconds coated in the products of literally months of build-up.

It takes Killian a second. Then he flips her on her back and Emma has never had a man put each and every one of his appendages to such thorough use. Very, very good use.

She thinks sex might be the best 'usually two-hand activity' he has single-handedly mastered. That lasts until the next morning when she finds that his breakfast-making skills easily tie with his love-making skills for the first place.

/

Killian lets himself into her place with the key she gave him. Emma smiles when she hears his footsteps, shouts out a 'be right there!' and turns on the blow dryer, honest to God whistling under her breath.

She doesn't dwell on what she was doing before getting into the shower until she walks into the kitchen to see him frozen beside the high stool she was occupying an hour ago, eyes running over the papers beside her half-full cup of coffee.

Emma literally sprints across the floor, wrenching the sheets of paper from his loose grasp and just barely resisting the desire to hide them behind her back. She gives a silent thanks that he doesn't try to be an asshole and hold them above his head or something. Which probably has more to do with him being in shock than anything else but still.

"Emma… what-"

"Nothing. It's nothing. I-"

"This doesn't look like nothing, love. It-"

"It is. I was just being silly."

"- looks like a more than half-done script."

"Just playing around-"

"And a good one from the glimpse I caught."

"I only- wait. You… you like it?"

Killian tilts his head to the side in that way that lets her know he is deciding on the best way to approach something that he considers already quite obvious.

Eventually he moves forward until his sneakers are almost touching her bare toes.

"I will be honoured, if you allow me another look but, aye, from what I saw, we have a great knack for one-liners at the very least and quite possibly a proper script-writer in the making."

Emma doesn't even try to reign in her surprise. Or her pleased blush.

"What is this, Swan?" he tries again, gentler this time, knowing and yet a tad apprehensive.

"I wrote- I mean, I'm writing…" she takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders a little. "I'm writing it for you. For… for us, I guess."

She can tell he expected it and yet he looks like the breath got knocked out of him anyway.

"Why w-"

"Because I was reading script after script and casting you in all my favourite roles and trying to picture acting beside someone else and all I could think about was how we didn't get to… and then I was hearing Ruby's stupid Captain Hook jokes in my head and I've always had this weird fascination with Neverland and fairytales. Probably because I never got to live one, even the one-off, prom-night one. And… yeah."

Emma cuts herself short and finally breathes in again. Only then does she look him straight in the eyes - with a mixture of anxiety and very badly veiled excitement.

"Do you… do you hate it now?"

"Do I- You planned for us to do this together? To play out your-"

"Pirate and princess ridiculous monstrosity of a fantasy? Yes, I… I don't know what got into me. I just-"

"I don't know what got into you either, lass."

Her face falls despite her best efforts. As she said she is well aware of how ridiculous it is. How ridiculous she is. But she always thought Killian of all people might-

"I mean, you managing to keep that from me for- what? Months? I don't know if I'm offended or impressed. No, scratch that, I'm definitely impressed but I'm also slightly worried half-way through you met a better-looking, one-handed guy to jolly your Roger and decided-"

"Oh, shut up!"

And when it doesn't look like he has any intension of doing that, Emma helps him occupy his month in different ways. Somewhat innocently at first. And then more to the point. Her half-full cup may or may not get smashed on the kitchen floor, and Killian might get some coffee stains on his jeans as she gets some scruff marks on her inner thighs, and yes, perhaps a couple of pages, unfortunate enough to still remain on the breakfast bar, get a bit rumpled and ummm, wet, and yeah, she definitely pulls more than a couple of hairs off his head but then again he does insist on making it oh-so-convenient for her to do so, all on his knees and driving her half-out of her mind.

And later when they are snuggled in front of her fireplace with a bottle of wine and a laptop with about a dozen weird-as-fuck dictionaries opened up and Killian giving his opinion on the pirate lingo, she nudges him under the jaw and tugs his left arm tighter around her as his fingers fly over the keyboard and dares to ask again.

"So… you like it?"

"Emma, I love it. You're bloody brilliant."

And maybe her grin is a little smug. She thinks she can be forgiven.

/

Emma doesn't really believe they will ever be perfect, fairytale metaphors aside. And yet, maybe, somehow she thought it would be easier. Because she just knows Killian Jones is _it_, naïve as that sounds and she thought… well, she thought _it_ didn't really require that much work._ It_ just happened.

It didn't.

It doesn't.

And if it does for someone else, if it can_ with_ someone else, she really doesn't give a flying fuck and doesn't want it even for a second, thank you very much.

They are working on their _it_.

Every day.

And it gets easier and it gets better (and she thought it was the best to begin with, even when it's messy as hell, so that's saying something).

And they_ live_ it every day. And _fight_ for it every day. And intend to fight for it every day that follows.

And that, she thinks, _that _makes it a happily ever after.


End file.
