#the analysis

“With what?” Ruby asked cheekily, “your analysis or getting into Jones’s pants?  Because one of those would be a whole lot more fun than the other.”

Emma took a threatening step forward, and Mary Margaret stepped in between the two of them, hands outstretched.  “Ruby, maybe it’s better you save the ribbing for later.  Do you think there’s anything you can do?  Can you get Emma’s real paper back?”

After the initial wave of mortification had died down when she’d realized what had happened with her term paper, it occurred to Emma that she had a much more substantial problem on her hands.  Those end of term papers counted for 25% of their grade for the course.  This embarrassing mistake was something she very literally could not afford.

Though she would have much preferred to ignore the whole situation and hope it went away, she needed to do something about it, and so she’d brought in her roommate and her roommate’s tech-genius childhood friend to see if there was any hope of retrieving her actual paper.

Before she’d told them the reason for her call, she had, of course, threatened everything short of actual bodily harm should they ever breathe a word of any of this to anyone.

Ruby sighed.  “Fine, though I have no idea why Emma would want to get rid of this absolute smutty masterpiece.”

Ruby typed for a few moments and then shouted in triumph.  “There we go!” she said.  “Simple.  Autosave to the rescue once again.  All I had to do was go back to a previously saved version of your document and voila!”

Emma took her laptop back from Ruby, glanced over it, and sighed in relief.  If she’d had to rewrite the entire stupid essay she was going to scream.

Making sure to save the damn thing, she printed it out, checked it, and then checked it again.  Fortunately this time a legitimate analysis paper on the symphonies of Mozart was in her hand.

Now came the hard part.  Now came the part where she had to go Killian Jones’s office and explain the mix up…and hope that he accepted her late paper.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma took a deep breath, standing outside the office the music graduate assistants shared.  She knew Mr. Jones was in there; this was smack in the middle of his posted office hours.

Was it possible to actually die of embarrassment?  Because she was pretty sure that if it was, she was just about to do it.  Killian might too.

Gods, what had she been thinking, writing all of that?

Well, there was nothing for it.  This had to be done, and the sooner the better.  The embarrassment certainly wasn’t going to lessen the longer time went on.

Slowly letting out her breath, she nodded in determination and then rapped on the door.

“Come in.”

Here it goes.

She opened the door and stepped inside, making a point of NOT closing it after her.  Given the situation, it was best there was not even a hint of impropriety.

When he saw her, he stood so quickly, he banged his knee against the desk, and he muttered a curse, leaning down to rub the abused joint.  When he straightened, his face was so red it was almost purple, and he seemed to want to look at anything and everything but her.

She guessed if there’d been any hope he’d somehow not read her paper yet, that hope was completely dashed.

And the award for the most awkward moment in academic history goes to…

“What…” he squeaked, before clearing his throat and trying again.  “What can I do for you, Miss Swan.”

“I, um…” she began, “I was hoping to talk to you about my term paper.”

His eyes widened, and he immediately began stammering.  “Yes, well, um, that was…that was, I–”

She stopped him with a raised hand.  “As I’m guessing you could probably tell, there was a mistake.  That was not what I meant to turn in.”

If he scratched any harder at the spot behind his ear, it would probably start bleeding.  Still refusing to look at her, he chuckled nervously.  “No I wouldn’t imagine so.  Although knowing Mozart, he probably would have found this situation endlessly amusing.”

“Unfortunately, I suspect Professor French would not take such a favorable view of it,” Emma said, chuckling in spite of herself, imagining the prim, proper Belle French reading what she’d written.

He laughed with her, finally looking at her properly, and Emma’s stomach swooped at the eye contact.  She was so far gone on this man it was ridiculous.  Too bad she’d embarrassed them both so thoroughly that he’d probably never want to see her face again as soon as this course ended.

“Anyway,” Emma continued.  “My real paper, you know the one I intended to turn in, somehow didn’t save or something.  I was able to get it back, and I was hoping you’d let me turn it in instead.  I know I’m a day late and my grade will get docked for that, but please!  That cannot be the final term paper I submit to Professor French.

Killian grinned at her sympathetically, and then deliberately looked down at his watch. “By my count, it is technically still less than 24 hours since the paper was due, and I’ve yet to submit the class’s papers to Professor French, so I see no reason we need to mention the delay.  No harm done.”

Emma let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.  “Thank you!” she breathed, reaching over to take his hand in her relief.

The second her hand touched his, a shock went through her, and she gasped, the attraction between them feeling almost as strong as electricity.  He drew in a quick breath as well, and her eyes met his again.

How long they stood like that–hands clasped, eyes locked, wonder coloring both of their faces–Emma couldn’t have said.  It could have been a few seconds, it could have been a few hours.  Finally he gave his head a quick shake and then stepped back, clearing his throat once more before speaking.  “It’s no problem, Miss Swan.  It could have happened to...well, I don’t know that this particular situation could have happened to anyone, but I’ve no doubt all students know the dread and horror of a missed deadline.”

“You know, Mr. Jones,” Emma said, after a moment.  “You really are a great teacher.”

There he went, scratching at the back of his ear again.  “I appreciate you saying that.  I rather doubt anyone’s ever called me a ‘great’ anything.”

She felt a rush of tenderness at that admission, suddenly realizing just how little he thought of himself.  She had the strongest urge to touch him–nothing untoward–she just wanted to comfort him, reassure him.

Still…given the nature of what she’d come here for, touch of any kind would probably be best avoided.

“Well…thanks again, and I’m sorry about the mix up.”

Emma turned to leave, but before she could exit the door, he called her name once more.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning back toward him.

“About what you wrote in your unintentional submission…” he glanced aside, coloring once again.

Oh gods, were they really going to talk about this?  She knew she should say something–apologize or make excuses.  Something.  Unfortunately she suddenly found herself entirely at a loss for words, and so she merely looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Did you,” he asked, “did you mean what you said?”

She drew in a quick breath, her heart pounding.  She couldn’t have looked at him if he paid her.  “I mean…I wouldn’t, you know, ever act on any of that.  I know you’re my teacher and everything, but, um…yeah?”

She hadn’t meant it to come out as a question.  She hadn’t meant to say it at all.  She hadn’t meant to say any of it at all.

But now that it was out there, she couldn’t exactly deny it.  Denial was the coward's way out, and Emma wasn’t a coward.

Abruptly Killian met her eyes, and what she saw there stole her breath clean from her lungs.  Beneath the obvious discomfort at the topic, there was something more–something hot and burning and needy, and Emma had the strongest sensation that if he was able, he’d gladly act out every single one of the racy fantasies she’d laid out for him in her term paper.

Lord help her, she had to clench her fists at her sides to keep herself from reaching for his lapels and dragging him bodily to her.

“Of course, I’m not at liberty to…um…comment on any of that now, given our position,” he said, “but…well…I must admit, I did not find your analysis to be unpleasant reading material.  Perhaps, were the situation different…”

He trailed off, but Emma couldn’t help but hear the unspoken message.

One day, one day soon, the situation would be different.  Maybe, just maybe, when that day came Killian Jones would find it in himself to finish his sentence.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian’s heart began to race as they got out of Dave’s truck and approached Granny’s diner.  Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, the panic taking over.  He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this!

It was crazy to think he could’ve.

“Hey, Killian, just relax,” his best friend and roommate, David Nolan said, placing a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder.  “She asked you to come today.  She’s going to be happy to see you.”

“Maybe,” Killian said, glancing through the diner’s window and catching a glimpse of Emma laughing with two other women, “but…but you know dining with Emma and her friends is not all I hope to do today.”

Graham Humbert, Killian’s second roommate, stepped up to his other side.  “Given the first analysis paper, she turned in, I doubt you have to worry about her answer.  This will be good!  And whatever happens, we’ve got your back, mate.”

Killian took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  Finally nodding firmly, he took the last few steps and opened the door.

The last week had passed in a flurry of activity, between his duties as teaching assistant and studying for his own graduate student finals.  He’d scarcely had a moment to think about the lovely Emma Swan or the undeniable connection between them.

But during his rare moments of downtime, the moments when he was left alone with his own thoughts, she consumed him.  He wanted her, and not merely in a carnal way.  He wanted a relationship with her, the white picket fence life, all of it.

He wanted it so badly that he was willing even to do that which scared him to death–ask her out.

This morning had been the final exam of the Music History 101 class, and with the last exam turned in it was official.  Emma was no longer his student; the last ethical barrier between them was gone.

She seemed to sense this as the class came to a close.  She waited until all her classmates had left to step to the front of the class and personally hand him her exam.  He thanked her, tongue-tied as usual in the presence of a woman he found desirable.

While he tried to dredge up the courage to broach the subject he so desperately wanted to discuss with her, she hesitated, and if Killian didn’t know better, he’d swear she was trying to draw out the moment of their parting every bit as much as he was.

Finally, after a long moment of the two of them merely gazing at each other, she cleared her throat and spoke.  “So, I just wanted to, you know, thank you again for being a great teacher.  Music was never really my thing, but I learned a lot this semester.”

He felt his cheeks color, and he had to clench his fists to keep from scratching behind his ear.  “I appreciate that,” he said after a moment.  “Teaching was never my thing, but you…um, I mean your class…made my job a delight.”

She smiled at him, her look a touch shy, perhaps unsure.  It appeared she was warring within herself, but finally she seemed to come to a decision.

“Look, Mr. Jones…” she began.

“The course is over, Swan,” he said.  “Please, call me Killian.”

“Killian,” she said with a nod, “a few friends and I are getting together for an end-of-semester celebration lunch at Granny’s in a couple hours.  If you wanted to come, you’d be welcome.  I mean, if it wouldn’t be weird.  I know you were my teacher and everything, and If you aren’t interested, I won’t be offended or anything, but we’d love to have you.  And you can bring some friends too, if you want.”

Killian smiled warmly at her.  “I’d love to join you, and I’m sure my roommates would as well.”

“Great!” she’d said with a wide, delighted smile.  “So, see you there around noon?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

When he’d asked Dave and Graham if they’d like to join him, they’d agreed…but only on one condition.  He had to take the plunge and actually ask Emma Swan on a proper date.

Killian was not accustomed to asking a woman out.  On the few occasions he’d been out with a lass, she’d typically been the one to make the invitation.  Frankly, the prospect of putting himself out there terrified him.

But if anyone was worth overcoming his fear for, it was Emma Swan, and so he’d agreed to his friends’ demand.  This very day he’d ask Emma out or die in the attempt.

Killian stepped into the diner, feeling the comforting whoosh of cold air from the air conditioner as he stepped inside.  Emma looked up at the sound of the bell over the door, and her face lit up when she saw him.  She waved him over, and he took another deep breath.  The moment of truth was upon him.

David clasped his shoulder once more.  “You can do this,” he said in a low voice.

Once the men had reached Swan’s table, introductions were made.  Emma, it seemed, had brought her two best friends, Mary Margaret and Ruby.  Distracted as he was with the anxiety and the butterflies in his stomach, Killian couldn’t help but notice the way his best mates seemed to perk up when they met Emma’s brunette friends.  Perhaps romance was in the air for more than just him and Swan.

Introductions done, and his friends taking their seats–David next to Mary Margaret and Graham next to Ruby–there was nothing else for it.  He needed to go ahead and do this before he lost his nerve.         

“Swan, could I have a private word?” he asked, resisting the urge to fidget–or to turn around and flee.

She looked surprised, but she nodded her assent, grabbing her drink and following him to the back hallway.

“So, what’s up?” she asked as soon as they were alone.

“I…um…wanted to ask you out,” he blurted, “to dinner or something.”

Emma had just taken a sip as he spoke, and she immediately began coughing.  He awkwardly patted her back until she got control of herself.

“I thought I was going to have to be the one to ask you that,” she said, finally.

He shrugged.  “As I’m no longer your teacher, the asking is no longer inappropriate, so I was hoping, well, I was hoping you might say yes.”

She merely looked at him for a moment, and then she smiled, and the effect was like the sun peaking out after a storm. “I’ll happily accept,” she said, “on one condition.”

“Aye?”

“You let me plan the date,” she said.

Killian felt the euphoria bubble up to such an extent he found himself capable of overcoming his natural shyness and actually–dare he believe it?--flirting with her. “Hey!” he said in mock offense, “I know how to plan a date!”

“You know how to make a lesson plan,” she countered saucily.  “I know how to plan an evening out that will blow your mind.”

He leaned in close, one hand on the wall near her head–he couldn’t believe his boldness.  “I must warn you, I don’t….pillage and plunder on the first date.”

She winked at him.  “That’s because you haven’t been out with me yet.”

He coughed, feeling the heat cover his cheeks yet again.  “Perhaps not tonight, Swan, but maybe one day we could…explore your literary output.”

She laughed, reaching up to kiss his cheek.  “Oh, that’s a definite.  Now how about we get back to our friends?  I’m gonna have to make this a quick lunch.   I’ve gotta go find something to wear.  Turns out I have a hot date with my former teacher to get ready for.”       

 Notes:

Happy Friday everyone!  Are you surprised I managed to update 3 weeks in a row?  I know I am!  And with that, The Analysis comes to a close.  Now, I know some of you are going to ask me to continue this and write the date, but if that ever happens, it will have to wait.  I absolutely have to get back to Until the Stars Are All Alight.  I plan to work on that until it is finally finished.  Afterwards, who knows?  I’m sure there will be plenty more fluff to explore between our favorite princess and pirate.    

Emma supposed she should be a touch freaked out that she was already thinking about long term with Killian, but she wasn’t.  All of this felt right, and she couldn’t wait to begin the relationship that she hoped would span many, many years.

With one last tossel of her hair, Emma turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the common room of the apartment.  She couldn’t help but chuckled as she came face to face with Mary Margaret and Ruby, huge smiles plastered across their faces.

Mary Margaret raised a camera to her eyes and snapped away as Emma came fully into the room.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked with a laugh.

“Somebody has a big date tonight,” Mary Margaret said in a singsong voice, “and I thought it needed to be documented with photos.”

Emma rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  “Don’t oversell it.  It’s just a first date.”

“It is not just a first date, and you know it,” Ruby countered.  “You’re head over heels for that man already, and if what I saw at lunch this afternoon was any indication, he’s just as far gone as you.”

Emma felt her stomach swoop.  She couldn’t deny it.  She was far gone for Killian.  “Yeah, well, don’t you dare scare him off or there might not end up being a second date.”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, snapping another picture from a different angle.  “Ruby’s right.  Killian does seem to be really into you.  I have a feeling it would take a lot more than our good-natured ribbing to scare him off.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a tentative knock at the door, and Mary Margaret squealed, clapping her hands in delight.  “He’s here!”

Emma shook her head, smiling at her friends’ antics, feeling her heart begin to pound in anticipation of the night ahead.  She opened the door, and promptly lost any and all train of thought she might have had.

Killian looked amazing.  Dark, black jeans, royal blue button up, black sports coat, hair artfully mussed.  He grinned a touch self-consciously as he held a single, long-stemmed red rose out to her. Emma felt a rush of desire, the strongest urge to simply pull him toward her and kiss the holy hell out of him.

Probably not the best way to start the date, although, if she had anything to say about it, that urge would certainly play itself out at some point during the evening.

“Swan,” he breathed, “You look…”

She grinned at him.  “I know,” she said cheekily.  

He chuckled, stepping forward to offer her the rose he carried.  She took it, bringing it gently to her nose and inhaling the luscious aroma.  “Thanks.”

After taking a moment to put the rose in water, Emma grabbed a coat .  “Shall we?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he answered, guiding her from the apartment with a hand to the small of her back.  

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Ruby called from her perch on the sofa.

“Pretty sure there’s nothing you wouldn’t do, Rubes,” Emma answered with a laugh.

Her friend winked at her.  “Exactly.”

With another laugh, and a shake of her head, Emma stepped out the door, sharing a smile with Killian.

“Sorry about them,” Emma said as they walked down the flight of stairs and Killian gestured to a black chevelle.  He led her to the passenger side, gallantly opened the door, and helped her inside.  “They mean well.  They’re just a little…much…sometimes.”

He smiled fondly at her as he slid into his seat behind the wheel and started the engine.  “They only want your happiness, Swan, and I certainly can’t fault them for that.  I…I only hope I can provide that for you.”

He was so self-deprecating, and had such a low opinion of himself.  They’d need to work on that.  One day she hoped to show him how very much he mattered.

“You’re already succeeding on that front,” she reassured.  His resulting smile was utterly delighted.

“So,” Killian said, turning toward her.  “Where are we headed, Swan?”

“I booked us reservations at that little Italian restaurant downtown,” Emma said.  “Belle Notte, I think it’s called.”

“Never been there,” Killian said with a nod, pulling away from his parking spot on the street and heading in the direction she’d indicated, “but I’ve heard it’s quite the romantic spot.”

“I hope so,” Emma answered.  “I was hoping to pull out all the stops and really make an impression on this date.”

The smile he gave her was nothing short of absolute adoration.  “Emma, I assure you.  You can’t help but make an impression.  I’ve no doubt the smile wouldn’t leave my face even if you’d planned on staying in and eating cold left-overs whilst wearing sweats.”

The drive to the restaurant was short, only a few minutes, and they filled the time with small talk.  Once parked, Killian hurried to her side of the car to open the door, and after he’d shut it behind her, she reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers.  He looked startled for a moment, but he didn’t pull away.  Indeed, after a moment, he squeezed her hand, a delighted grin joining the twin spots of color on his face.

A smiling hostess showed the two of them to their table, and true to form, Killian held her seat for her before taking his own.

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured, reaching over and taking his hands in both of hers as soon as they were situated.  She couldn’t help herself, just wanted to touch him, be connected to him.  This pull she felt between them was so strong, so irresistible it almost scared her.

Almost.

But she felt so good, so utterly and incandescently happy being here with him, that there was no room for fear or any other negative emotion.

“I strive to always be a gentleman, love,” he said.  “My brother taught me the importance of treating a woman with respect.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother!” Emma said, caressing his hand with her thumb.

He glanced aside, the shadows filling his eyes for just a moment.  “He passed some years back.”

She felt like an absolute heel.  “Killian, I’m sorry,” she said.  “If I’d known, I’d never have brought it up.”

He smiled gently at her, waving away her concerns.  “Not at all, Swan,” he said.  “It was long ago.  The pain has faded enough that I can remember him fondly.”

A waitress stopped by their table, giving them menus and listing the specials of the night.  As soon as she’d walked away, Emma turned toward Killian.  “Should I order us some drinks?”

He glanced aside, scratching at the back of his ear.  “No, I…I don’t think so.”

“Afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible after a few libations?” she flirted.

He reddened further, even as he grinned.  “No,” he answered. “I’m fairly certain it’s not possible for me to find you any more irresistible than I do right now.  You, love, are extraordinary.”

This time Emma’s cheeks reddened as she smiled at the compliment. 

“It’s just…” he went on, looking uncomfortable again.  “I’m sort of…allergic…to alcohol.  Never touch the stuff.”

It was odd.  He seemed beyond embarrassed to admit the fact, perhaps even ashamed.  She shrugged.  “It’s no big deal.  We don’t need booze to make for an enjoyable night.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes widening.  “I’ve endured more than my fair share of mockery for my preference for goats milk over hard liquor.”

There it was again, his low opinion of himself.  It was long past time to begin moving him past that.

“Killian,” she said, lacing their fingers and squeezing his hands.  “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.  You are…honestly, you’re kind of amazing.”

He colored even more.  “I’m not so sure about that…”

“Well, I am,” she said firmly.  “So how about you take my word for it?  Whoever it was in your past that made you feel less-than was an idiot, and they didn’t have a clue what they were missing.”

His eyes softened at her words, something big and overwhelming–gratitude? Hope?--shining from them.

“I have to admit, goat’s milk is kinda a weird substitute for alcohol,” she chuckled, “but hey.  To each their own.”

Dinner was an enjoyable affair.  The food was good, and the conversation was even better.  As they talked and laughed, sharing tidbits about their lives, their hopes and dreams, Emma found herself enjoying everything about Killian.  It was more than just the animalistic attraction she felt toward him.  She genuinely liked him; enjoyed his company; felt that above and beyond the romantic feelings they might have for each other, they could become deep and lasting friends.

Emma knew that regardless of what their relationship might bring–whether it worked out or didn’t–she wanted to keep him in her life.

When dinner finished, neither of them wanted the evening to come to a close, and so they opted to go to a local park, holding hands as they strolled through the nature pathways under the stars.  It was a magical night, with romance in the air, though Emma suspected there was truly nothing special about the night or the air.  It was the man she was with.  He brought the butterflies just with his smile.

When had she gotten so cheesy? She was so into him it was ridiculous.

By the time the evening chill began to descend upon them, they returned to his car, knowing the end of the date was fast approaching.

He didn’t start the car immediately, instead gazing sightlessly down at the steering column, looking like he was warring within himself.  Finally he turned to look at her, and there was trepidation in his eyes.  He seemed to be girding up his courage to say something to her, and Emma felt a hint of unease.

Didn’t he enjoy tonight as much as she did?

“Emma…:” he began, drawing out her name.

“Killian, whatever it is, just tell me,” she said, feeling the unease grow at his strange behavior.  “If you aren’t into me or whatever, it’s okay.  I can handle it.”

His eyes widened.  “I’m making a right mess of this,” he said.  “Of bloody course I’m into you.  This has been…well, it’s been the most enjoyable evening I’ve spent in years.  It’s just…remember how I told you I don’t, um, pillage and plunder on the first date?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s…um…it’s more than that,” he admitted.  “I’ve actually…well, I’ve never slept with a woman.  None of my past dates have ever gotten that far.  And…I just hope it’s not a problem for you if we take things slowly.  It’s not that I’m not attracted to you.  Gods, but I am!  It’s just…”

He broke off, shrugging self-consciously.

Her heart turned over, the tenderness overwhelming her when he glanced aside.

She reached up, turning his face toward her, meeting his eyes.  “Killian, trust me, it’s not a problem.  I’m not exactly all that experienced either.”

“You’re not?” he asked.  “A woman as beautiful and desirable as you?”

She smiled gently at him. “I mean I’ve had long make out sessions, some heavy petting, that sort of thing, but I’ve never, you know, given all of myself to any man.”

He looked surprised, but he reached up and took her hand, squeezing gently.

“It’s not that I’m some sort of prude or something,” she said.  “It’s just…”

How did she explain this?

“Aye?” he prompted.  “It’s just what?”

“Killian, I told you I grew up in the foster system, right?”

He nodded.

“I never met my parents.  Have no idea who they are or why they gave me up,” she said, “but I like to imagine they had this epic love story, that they were like, I don’t know, Snow White and Prince Charming or something.  I like to imagine they didn’t want to give me up, but something–some outside force or curse or something–separated us, and one day I’ll find them again, and I’ll be inspired by their love for the ages–both for each other and for me.”

He cupped her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“I know it’s stupid,” she said, “and I’m not naive.  I’m sure the truth is nothing like that, but…I wish it could be.  When I think about having sex with a guy, I want it to be like that fairy tale I imagine for my parents.  I want it to mean something, not just be the scratching of an itch, not just something you do because you’re dating somebody or because you find the other person hot.  When I sleep with a guy, I want it to be because I am truly, genuinely in love with him.  So no. I have no objection to us taking this thing as slowly as you want.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They stood awkwardly before her apartment door a few minutes later.  Emma had never wanted a night to end less, and yet she knew if she invited him inside she would find it very difficult to abide by his desire to take things slowly.

The question was, just how should they bring this evening to a close?

Killian shuffled his feet awkwardly one to the other, looking aside, and Emma could read him well enough by now to know if anything more was going to happen tonight, she’d need to be the one to make it happen.

Every fiber of her being wanted something more, and as she’d never been one to stand on ceremony, she went for it, grabbing him by his lapels and dragging him to her.  She’d surprised him; she could tell, and for the barest fraction of a second, he froze, but then he was kissing her back, tentatively bringing one hand to the back of her head and holding her to him, wrapping the other arm around her waist and pulling her close.

From the first touch of her lips to his, it was like a fire erupted within her.  This was bliss.  This was heaven, but she needed more.

Opening her mouth, she swiped her tongue against the seam of his lips, and he gasped in response.  She took full advantage of the moment, plunging her tongue within the confines of his mouth.  His resulting moan was the single most sensual thing she’d ever experienced in her entire twenty-two years of existence.

She pulled him even closer, so close that she could feel the rumble of his moans against her chest, could feel the evidence that though his mind and heart wanted to take things slowly, his body very much did not.

It was time to end this–unfortunately–before they both completely lost their heads and started going at it right out here in the open.  With great difficulty, Emma pulled her mouth free, resting her forehead against his, because she needed a minute. 

(More than a minute, really.  More like a lifetime, but it was far too early in the relationship to have those kinds of thoughts.)

For several moments, they merely stood there, foreheads pressed together, both breathing so heavily they sounded as though they’d sprinted up ten flights of stairs.  Finally, Killian took a step backwards and smiled, looking into her eyes with awe.

“That was…” he began.

“Even better than I imagined when I wrote about it,” she said with a delighted giggle.

“Aye,” he agreed, his smile, if possible, widening even more.

She reached over, ran her hands from his shoulders down to his hands, linking their fingers, and stepping back into his space.  She wanted nothing more than to surge up and take his lips again–kissing Killian Jones was addicting as hell–but with restraint she felt she really deserved a medal for, she resisted.

“May I ask you something?” she murmured instead.

“Of course.”

“Will you go out with me again?”

His smile grew, and really, what more answer did she need?

After murmuring goodnight, Emma slipped inside, leaning back against the door, closing her eyes and smiling in utter rapture.  She’d told him she wanted a fairy tale, and this evening had been as close to one as she could ever imagine getting.  Her heart was so full, she doubted it could contain another drop of joy.

Perhaps this was the infatuation stage of the relationship.  Perhaps things would eventually cool down to something of a slow burn between them, but she was determined to bask in the joy of falling in love for as long as she was able.

“Looks like someone had a good date,” Ruby said from her spot on the sofa.

Emma looked over and barked out a laugh.  Both Ruby and Mary Margaret sat on the sofa, excited smiles on their faces, looking every bit like parents waiting up for their daughter after her prom.

“Nah, it wasn’t a good date,” Emma said with a happy sigh as she plopped herself down on the couch in between her two best friends.  “It was quite possibly the best date in the history of dating.”

“Tell us everything,” Mary Margaret said excitedly.  “I want all the details.”

And that was a request Emma was more than happy to agree to.

 Notes:

–I accept no responsibility for the cavities you may have gotten from the ridiculously sugary fluffiness of this chapter.  I just wanted to try to capture the joy and euphonia of the very beginning of a relationship.

–In canon, I loved how supportive Killian was of Emma, how much he believed in her and built her up at every turn.  But at the same time, I kind of hated that we didn’t get as much of Emma building up Killian.  I get it; I really do.  Her walls being as high as they were, it was very difficult for her to let her guard down enough to do so, but I wanted to kind of reverse the roles in this au.  Killian was the one who needed to be supported and believed in and built up, and Emma was more than happy to do it.

–BTW, in this universe, there is no Neal, because 1. In my opinion any universe where Neal does not exist is a good universe and 2. While this version of Emma has some walls, she doesn’t have as many as in canon.  In my opinion, in canon Emma’s difficult upbringing in the foster system of course scarred her, but it was what Neal did–not only leaving her but framing her for his crimes–and its subsequent consequence–being forced to give up her son–that truly cemented the walls around her heart.

–I have an exciting announcement for you!  As you all know, smut is not my thing, and I don’t feel comfortable writing it, but jrob64 has agreed to take up this story universe and write a companion piece in which we get a glimpse of just what it was that Emma wrote in her mistaken paper–and we get to see Emma and Killian act them out.  You can find her story here