Well, we've arrived! The final (ridiculously long, seriously it's over 7K words!) chapter! I've gotten such incredible feedback forthis and I cannot thank you enough for reading and reviewing. You guys give me life. This was the first prompt I ever took and I'm pretty pleased with how it's turned out.

Thank you once again to my fabulous and ever-patient beta/bestfriend Lanni for all the soundboarding and for keeping me sane when this chapter got on top of me. Lanni is also played a big part in bringing Sassy Gay August to life, and he seems to be everyone's favorite lol. I promised a few people there'd be more of him in this chapter, and I kept that promise ;) and he's as sassy as ever.

Thank you once more for all the support. And if you want to send me prompts, you can throw them into my Ask box on Tumblr! (blowmiakisscolin).

Chapter 4

Emma Swan awoke with an acute awareness of three things: she had coffee grounds in her hair, the remnants of her blinds on the floor and Killian Jones in her bed.

The sunlight was streaming in through her window and she squinted, trying to piece together what the hell had happened to lead to her current situation. Sitting up, she winced. She knew how to differentiate a caffeine hangover from a regular hangover, and this was definitely the latter.

Killian remained asleep, mouth open and drool on her pillow. She rolled her eyes. Even like that he still managed to look far too damn attractive for his own good.

Sighing, Emma flopped back onto her pillow and thought about the weeks leading up to where they were now. It had definitely been a rollercoaster.

After August had finally clued Killian in that his preferences were decidedly not of the female variety, the thinly-veiled avoidance techniques Killian had previously employed whenever August was over had stopped. They'd actually become quite friendly, which of course had Emma watching them suspiciously. Killian had gone from barely tolerating August to suddenly being BFFs, and she'd cornered him about it pretty quickly.

He'd shrugged and said they'd put aside their differences and found they actually got along rather well. But Emma had not been so easily convinced. Her inbuilt lie detector tended to be wonky when it came to Killian, but she tried not to overthink that. She wouldn't admit, even to herself, that he affected her.

He'd seemed a little more tentative with her too. As though there was something he was trying to say, and it was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite force it past his lips. He'd shake his head and mutter 'nevermind ', and she'd be left wondering what the hell he was holding back.

After a week of that, Emma was getting frustrated with him. The distance between them was painfully apparent and she wasn't the only one doing the avoiding. She knew she shouldn't really be angry with him for doing something she was also guilty of, but misplaced anger was easier for her to deal with than actually addressing the real issue.

Emma wasn't the only one fed up with it all. August had watched them awkwardly dance around one another and had become more and more irritated by their denial. They were both aware of the video and what Killian had said the night of his personal caffeine apocalypse...yet they were in a stalemate.

So, he'd decided that manufacturing a situation in which he could push them together and hopefully force them to deal with it was the best option.

Getting Emma to agree to going out to party had never been an issue. The girl could drink August under the table she rarely said no to the suggestion of a night out. Killian, however, was somewhat wary when August had nonchalantly suggested they go out to a party that night.

"Is it a gay bar?"

He'd asked carefully, and August had burst out laughing, assuring him that no, he wasn't planning on taking him to a gay bar. With that assurance, Killian somewhat hesitantly agreed. As far as he was concerned, there was a group of them going. But in reality, it was just August, Killian and Emma...

CS

"Is everyone else meeting us here?"

Emma and Killian were stood at the bar, the tension between them palpable and the pulsing beat of the music doing nothing to ease it.

"Oh, it's just us three tonight. The others bailed."

Emma narrowed her eyes at him but August carefully avoided meeting her gaze, busying himself with trying to attract the attention of the bartender. Emma was acutely aware of his manipulative little plan, and she was going to be having strong words with him about meddling at a later date.

August had ordered them all drinks then and they'd downed numerous shots together, but he had conveniently caught sight of someone he knew on the opposite side of the bar, excusing himself and leaving the two of them alone.

Emma knew exactly what her best friend was trying to do and she made sure to send him her best glare across the bar when she eventually caught his eye. He winked back at her with a smug expression on his face and she made a mental note to make his murder as painful as possible.

Downing her drink quickly and clenching her jaw, Emma finally turned to face Killian, who was feigning interest in watching the crowd of drunken college kids on the dancefloor.

"So. Killian," she shouted over the music, and he turned to meet her gaze, "Dance?"

She motioned to the crowded dancefloor and he paused for a moment before shrugging, gesturing for her to lead the way and smiling when she relented.

The sway of her hips in her short, tight, black leather skirt made him uncomfortably snug in his skinny jeans but he simply couldn't look away, hypnotized by the way she moved. She wore sky-high heels that accentuated her legs and made him wonder how the hell she stayed upright, and a scooped neck, white and slightly transparent sleeveless blouse that had him enamored and slightly jealous of the tone and definition of her arms.

Basically, she was a marvel, and he was utterly mesmerized by her while trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious to his body's response to her, and the loud music had him thankful that he wouldn't hear how affected he was if she spoke to him.

As he followed her toward the crowd of gyrating bodies, she grabbed his hand and tugged him along behind her, through groups of people too drunk to acknowledge them, until she found a space big enough for the two of them.

It was cramped and hot and sweaty, but the music was good and the atmosphere was contagious. There was enough space that they weren't pressed together shoulder to hip but they were definitely forced to invade each other's personal space.

After the first song merged into the second, the beats almost identical, they both relaxed and moved more easily to the music. Emma smiled and moved her hips, eyes drifting closed as the alcohol she'd consumed began to take effect, and Killian's nails dug into his palms to keep from reaching out to brush her hair back off her face.

He'd never been out drinking with her, but the buzz of alcohol under his skin, along with the sight of her relaxed in a way he'd never seen before, had him wondering why the hell he hadn't been dancing with her sooner. She had him enchanted, as always.

Somewhere between the fourth and fifth songs, a drunken kid stumbled into Emma from behind, causing her in turn to stumble into Killian. His hands instinctively settled on her waist, steadying her, and she gazed up at him with a look he couldn't quite place. Curiosity? Hesitance?

Her hands were resting gently on his chest, his heart pounding firmly beneath her palm, and he was sure she could feel it racing. For a moment it felt as though the entire club faded into the background and he held her gaze, fingers finally lifting to push her hair back behind her ear as his gaze dropped to her lips.

She flinched then, startled, the moment suddenly broken with his fingers still lingering against her cheek. She stepped back abruptly and turned, heading for the bar. He was frozen to the spot, staring after her and watching as she ordered herself two shots, immediately tipping them back, before making for the ladies' room.

Killian sighed and slowly made his way off the dancefloor. It always felt like they'd take a step forward, only to take two steps back. He wasn't sure how she felt about him, but he knew how he felt about her. He was solely going on what August had told him, trusting that her best friend knew her best and wouldn't push them toward each other if it was a dead end.

He waited patiently for her to return, casting glances toward the restrooms now and again and eyeing his watch. When almost ten minutes had passed, he began to get a little nervous. Surely ten minutes in the bathroom warranted a search party of some sort.

Feeling his phone buzz, he pulled it out and saw Emma's name on the screen.

"Had to get outta there. Sorry. Have a nice night."

His heart sank as he read the text, disappointment blooming in his chest. He'd scared her off. He'd almost tried to kiss her and had clearly spooked her. Perhaps August had been wrong after all.

CS

The cab ride back home seemed to take an eternity. All Emma wanted was to eat the entire contents of the refrigerator (drinking tended to result in a food coma at the end of the night) and wash it down with the bottle of Captain Morgan that Killian had left lying around in the kitchen.

After paying the cab driver with a hefty tip, an unspoken thank you for not attempting to make awkward conversation or hit on a hot drunk chick, she dragged herself up to the front door. She managed to get in after three fumbled attempts with her keys and sighed with relief as she staggered inside.

She tried not to think about what a mess she'd made of the night. She tried not to think about Killian or the way her heart had almost pounded its way out of her chest when his gaze had dropped to her lips.

He'd been seconds away from kissing her and she'd panicked. Then, after she'd given him the deer-in-headlights response and practically ran screaming in the opposite direction, she'd panicked some more.

She'd sat in the bathroom stall for far longer than she'd planned before deciding that slipping out of the side door and going home before she could fuck things up between them even further was the best plan of action.

She tried not to think about the hurt and disappointment he'd probably felt when he'd read that text too. And even though she knew it was incredibly selfish, she just hoped he didn't retaliate by bringing some other girl home. In all honesty though, she knew he wasn't the type to sleep with someone just to spite her.

It took all of fifteen minutes for her to polish off Killian's bottle of rum that she'd swiped from the kitchen, and it was hitting her before she'd even finished it. But the buzz of the alcohol felt good and loosened the knot in her stomach, finally. She lay back on her bed, eyes trained on the ceiling, letting the world spin until the shrill ringing of her cell phone startled her out of her rum-induced daze. Fumbling for the phone, she scoffed when she saw August's name (or at least what looked like his name, she couldn't quite tell even when she squinted) and answered it with a less-than-friendly greeting.

"Hello to you too, Swan Queen. Where'd you disappear to?"

She could hear the muted thump of music in the background and surmised that he'd stepped outside to call her. Gritting her teeth, she glared up at the ceiling again.

"You know I seriously hate that nickname, you asshat."

"Oh, sister, could you slur your words a little more?" August chuckled, "Sounds like someone's having a fun night. Am I interrupting something? Have you and Sergeant Sexy Scruff headed for somewhere more private already?"

The background noise coupled with August's raised voice were giving her a headache and Emma winced, not even bothering to roll her eyes at his gleeful tone.

"I'm at home. Alone," she replied flatly, "Goodnight, August."

The last thing she heard before she hung up was her best friend's strangled scoff of exasperation and a muttered curse. For a while after she'd hung up, Emma simply lay there, unmoving, seeing how fast she could let the room spin around her before it started to make her feel nauseous. Groaning and squeezing her eyes shut, she found herself thinking back to Killian's caffeine-fueled run-in with her blinds.

At the time, it had seemed hilarious and ridiculous, but after consuming enough rum to knock out men over twice her size, it suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable. And the more she mulled it over, the more she was siding with Killian.

"Y'know what, he's right," she mumbled, sitting up and swaying slightly as she glared at her blinds, vision blurring at the edges, "I do deserve light in my life and you are keeping it from me, you son of a bitch!"

CS

Killian left the club almost immediately after receiving Emma's text. He was hoping he'd perhaps catch her outside, smooth things over and talk her into enjoying the rest of their night. Convince her that trying to kiss her was a mistake and he was sorry for overstepping the very hazy, unspoken boundaries that apparently existed between them. But, as he'd suspected, she was long gone.

It made him a little uneasy knowing she'd jumped a cab by herself, as inebriated as she was. But he heard her voice in his head then, snapping at him that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, and it made him smile despite himself.

Eventually managing to hail a cab himself and sinking back into the seat, his fingers hovered over the keypad of his phone. But every time he drafted a text to her, he ended up deleting it, scoffing at himself for his sudden inability to string a sentence together. By the time he'd deleted the eighth attempt, the cab was pulling up and he shoved his phone into his pocket, paying the guy and trying to ignore the heavy feeling of dread settling in his stomach as he made his way inside.

He assumed she'd be asleep, possibly passed out on the sofa or, with any luck, safely tucked up in bed. He knew he probably didn't have to check on her but he knew he wouldn't sleep at all if he wasn't 100% sure she was in her bed. After all, he didn't know that she'd definitely returned home. The shoes she'd kicked off at the bottom of the stairs could probably have sufficed as proof of her presence but he wanted to be sure.

As he climbed the stairs, the alcohol in his system making him stumble once or twice and curse under his breath when he almost faceplanted after missing a step, he stopped dead when he heard a muffled voice.

Emma's muffled voice.

He tilted his head to listen, trying to figure out what she was saying over the ringing in his ears that always came when he'd crossed the line from pleasantly buzzed to drunk. She was definitely having some kind of argument, and he assumed she was on her cell phone due to the distinct lack of a retaliating voice.

Edging toward her room, he frowned. He couldn't piece together what exactly she was arguing about, but she seemed pretty vehement about light for some reason. When he heard her say his name, he froze, eyes trained on her closed door and heart stilling in his chest. He suddenly felt like he was eavesdropping on something he really shouldn't be, and almost turned back toward his own room until he heard a loud clatter followed by a string of curses.

Throwing open her door without bothering to knock, his alcohol-fogged mind didn't know quite how to process the scene in front of him.

Emma was tangled in her blinds.

One side had completely detached from the rail, and the other was doing a somewhat impressive job of remaining intact, despite the petite blonde caught between the slats. She stilled as he entered the room, eyes comically wide in surprise.

She reminded him of Lily, and that one time the demon cat had gotten herself entangled in his blinds while chasing a bug. The bug had escaped, but Lily had required a dashing rescue from Killian. Not that the satanic feline had been grateful. No, he still had scars from that rescue mission. He wondered if Lily's owner would leave him with scars too, if he tried to help free her from her current predicament.

"Of course it's you," she grumbled, shifting slightly in a futile attempt to free herself and quickly giving up, "Well, are you gonna just stand there or make yourself useful and help me get down?"

Killian bit back a chuckle. She was even feistier when she was fueled by far too many shots. Moving around her bed, he scanned the blinds for her best route to freedom. Emma was balancing on her tiptoes on her windowsill, swaying slightly and fast running out of patience as she watched him carefully consider her predicament.

"Christ, Jones, this isn't fucking Mission Impossible. Just…catch me."

Before he had time to ask her what on earth she meant by that, Emma was launching herself off the windowsill. She was still well and truly ensnared by two dozen aluminum slats but they immediately gave up their fight to stay attached to the railing as she hurled herself at Killian.

He landed on his back on her bed, Emma sprawled out on top of him, the air whooshing out of his lungs on impact. She sat back quickly, straddling him, and he instinctively grabbed her waist to keep her from tumbling backwards onto the floor.

If he hadn't been quite so drunk or quite so disoriented, Killian knew he would probably have thoroughly enjoyed her current position. But thankfully his blood-flow down south wasn't as quick on the uptake (no pun intended) as it usually was when he was sober, and Emma seemed too preoccupied with disentangling herself from what had once been her blinds to notice anyway.

She was muttering to herself as she tried in vain to free her oversized t-shirt from the wreckage and continued to fail miserably. Growling with exasperation, after endlessly long moments of torment for Killian, she made yet another decision that had the air backing up in his chest.

She whipped off her shirt.

Straddling him then in nothing but the most adorable pair of duckling pyjama shorts he'd ever seen, she looked extremely satisfied with herself as the remnants of her blinds clattered to the floor. Killian could feel his cheeks burning as he clenched his jaw and tried desperately to keep his eyes on her face.

Emma's cheeks were a very lovely shade of pink but he knew that had more to do with her exertion to remove the mess of aluminum previously tangled around her than any embarrassment at their current situation. She blew hair out of her face and tilted her head back slightly, her small hands were resting on his stomach to keep her balance.

"God, I'm so fucking hot."

She whined, and Killian tried desperately not to wonder how she would taste if he attached his lips to her neck, where he couldn't help but watch a bead of sweat journeying down toward her collarbone.

"Don't I know it."

He hadn't realized he'd muttered the words out loud until he met her gaze and saw the slight smirk tugging her lips. And then his cheeks burned even hotter. He'd been so focused on not devouring her on the spot that he'd slipped up and verbalized his thoughts.

But Emma didn't seem affronted or startled by his confession, and instead she tilted her head as she pressed her hands down experimentally against his abs. A small hum of appreciation fell from her lips and Killian tried his best to hold onto his composure.

"Swan? Stop. What're you doing?"

He wheezed, and Emma grinned, suddenly sliding warm hands underneath his t-shirt and poking his abdominal muscles, which involuntarily bunched under her probing fingers.

"Damn."

She breathed, and he swallowed hard, clamping his eyes shut when she shifted on his lap. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, wondering what terrible thing he'd done in a past life to deserve such torture.

It was only when Emma started giggling that his eyes snapped open. Partly to behold the sight of Emma Swan actually giggling, a sound falling from her lips that he'd never believed her to be capable of, and partly to see what exactly she was finding so amusing.

Her arms were folded and she was rolling her eyes, the action comfortingly familiar despite their very unfamiliar proximity.

"They're only boobs, Killian, Jesus. Never seen a woman's boobs before?"

Swallowing hard and praying his voice didn't come out sounding like a Catholic choirboy's, Killian once again focused his bleary gaze on her face.

"I've seen plenty, love. Just wasn't exactly prepared for a private show this evening."

She climbed off his lap then, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she was half naked. If it wasn't for the fact that Killian had routinely bumped into her wandering the house in nothing but a white vest top and red lace panties, munching on chips or too focused on texting to acknowledge his presence, he'd chalk it up to the fact that the alcohol in her system had drowned her inhibitions.

Scrambling to his feet, Killian subtly adjusted his pants, which were now uncomfortably snug, and bolted for the door as Emma inspected the sorry-looking carcass of her blinds that lay on the floor. He had to marvel at the fact that he was running away from a half-naked woman, because never in his life would he have imagined such a scenario. But Emma barely even glanced up as he retreated.

"Get some sleep, Swan. I'll leave the aspirin out in the morning."

And with that, he slipped out of her room, firmly closing the door behind himself and pausing for a moment to orientate himself. The many times he'd dreamed about a topless Emma straddling him…the circumstances had certainly never been quite so bizarre. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Killian shook his head and dragged himself toward his own room, part of him convinced he'd wake up and realize the whole evening had been one crazy rollercoaster of a dream.

CS

Killian was just starting to drift off when the sound of something crashing to the floor downstairs had him bolting upright in bed. Kicking back his covers with a sound of frustration, cursing the fact that he was now decidedly sobering up, he quickly made his way down to investigate the next drama to unfold.

He wasn't surprised in the slightest when he found Emma sat amid the chaos on the kitchen floor, half the contents of the cupboard she'd emptied scattered around her, and a cup cradled in her hands. (In all honesty, he was just relieved she was wearing a t-shirt again now). He frowned as he leaned closer and almost gagged when he realized what she was drinking.

"Emma…did you put coffee in cold water?"

She looked up at him, crunching the grounds between her teeth without even blinking, and nodded slowly.

"I don't know about you, lass, but that's gonna make me throw up in a minute. Stop it. Give it to me."

She frowned when he tried to take the mug from her hands and he sighed in exasperation. She continued to crunch the coffee, holding his gaze defiantly and he rolled his eyes. Drunken Emma apparently shared startling similarities with a petulant five year old.

Holding his hand out for the mug and piercing her with a gaze that challenged her to test him, it was Emma's turn to roll her eyes and she reluctantly handed over the mug. He quickly tossed the contents down the drain and replaced it with water, grabbing some aspirin and turning to assess the mess she'd made of the kitchen. He'd tackle that in the morning.

Emma was still sat among the debris, and he could tell she was perilously close to curling up and making a bed among the packets of ramen and tinned soups she was currently surrounded by. Shaking his head, he put down the water and leaned down to effortlessly hoist his drunken roommate into his arms, bridal style. Emma's arms immediately curled around his neck and he carefully grabbed the glass of water again before making for the stairs.

Her head lolled against his chest and she was drifting off before he'd reached the top of the stairs. Maneuvering expertly into her room, he placed the glass of water down next to her bed, and then turned to gently lay her down…

But Emma had other plans.

Her arms remained firmly around his neck, a mumbled sound of disagreement falling from her lips when he attempted to disentangle himself. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks but her eyes remained closed. Sighing, and trying not to read too much into her clinginess, he shifted her further onto the bed and lay down beside her, tugging the covers over them both and resigning himself to his fate for the night.

She immediately snuggled into his side, sighing in contentment and stretching out like a cat, with one leg draped over his and her arm now thrown across his waist. He lay perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, and listened to her breathing as it evened out, her body warm and soft, pressed up against him.

He was acutely aware of every noise the house made, and every slight shift of her body next to him. He figured he'd be awake all night and could slip back into his own room whenever she decided to turn over, but eventually he started to feel his eyelids getting heavy and before he realized it, he was drifting off to sleep.

CS

"What the…fuck?"

Emma grumbled, her head feeling like she'd gone nine rounds with Mike Tyson. Sunlight was streaming in through her window and that was not something she was accustomed to when she almost-permanently kept her blinds closed. Listing her hand to shield herself from the brightness, Emma finally cracked an eye open.

Her blinds were gone.

And she had dirt in her hair. No…not dirt. Coffee grounds?

Confused, she moved to sit up, but was immediately overcome with a wave of nausea and groaned, pressing her hand to her forehead and laying still for a moment. But then she felt someone shift beside her, and Emma almost shot out of her own bed. Wide awake now, she stared in shock at her roommate, fast asleep in her bed.

Struggling to make sense of it all, and desperately trying to piece together what the hell had happened the night before, she slipped out of bed as silently as possible and made for the bathroom. Her mind was racing as she splashed her face with cold water in an attempt to startle herself back into reality and recall the events of the previous night.

She'd woken up with coffee grounds in her hair, her blinds a tattered mess on the floor, and a deliciously disheveled (shirtless, maybe even naked?!) Killian Jones in her bed. She was tempted to text August, but she wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea to clue him in on his wild night just yet, in case he was oblivious to what had gone down.

Biting back the hangover from hell, Emma slipped downstairs, planning to down a carton of OJ and her own weight in Lucky Charms – her go-to hangover cure combo.

But when she got to the kitchen, she stopped dead. It looked as though a bomb had hit it, and she ran a hand through her tangled hair. She couldn't help but wonder, with a mild sense of panic, if she and Killian had engaged in wild sex all over the house the night before, and that was why she was standing amidst culinary carnage.

Deciding that the clean-up mission could wait until later, she returned to her room and gathered some clothes as quickly and silently as possible. She then proceeded to lock herself in the bathroom and spent a little longer than necessary in the shower.

Thankfully, by the end of her shower she had two things: hair without any traces of coffee grounds, and a fully in-tact memory. It had all come back to her in a rush and she'd almost cried with relief knowing that she and Killian hadn't jumped one another in a messy, drunken haze. She also startled herself a little when the voice at the back of her mind whispered that she wanted to remember her first time with him.

Pointedly choosing to ignore that voice, Emma quickly turned off the shower, wondering whether a peace offering left for Killian in the form of breakfast would be a good way to thank him for not taking advantage of her when she'd practically offered herself to him on a platter. She cringed when she remembered the full frontal show she'd given him after her altercation with her blinds.

And yet he'd been a gentleman. Even though he'd been drunk himself, he still hadn't taken advantage of the situation, or her. And that set him apart from pretty much every other guy Emma had met.

Getting dried off and dressed in record time, Emma headed downstairs to throw together some form of 'thank you'/'I'm sorry for my boobs' breakfast. She decided against a 'thanks for not having sex with me while I was embarrassingly drunk' note to go along with it though, and chuckled to herself as she imagined him waking up to that.

The laugh died in her throat though, when she found August sitting on the sofa in her living room, a smug smirk on his face as he casually sipped the glass of OJ he'd helped himself too.

"You scared the shit out of me. How long have you been here, you little creeper?"

Emma threw over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen. She was studiously avoiding August's pointed gaze but she could feel it burning into her back and her cheeks flushed in response.

"Long enough to have walked into your room and found Mr. Tall Dark and Bangable naked in your bed, Emma Swan!"

"He's not naked. Just shirtless."

She shot back, and August groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead melodramatically.

"Please tell me you rode him like a pony, Emma. Please. No one, and I mean no one, has enough self-control to sleep next to that and not jump it."

Emma glared at her best friend for a moment before rolling her eyes, not bothering to grace him with a response until he said her name with that warning tone she knew so well.

"No, we did not have sex, alright? For one, we were both far too drunk. And apparently, he's a gentleman no matter how much he's had to drink. But also…he may have had to help disentangle me from my blinds, and I think that may have made me marginally less attractive…"

August paused for a moment, seemingly needing a moment to process his confusion, before shaking his head with a sigh.

"For a start, I don't think you could do anything to make that boy less attracted to you. But more importantly…why did you need disentangling from your blinds, Emma?"

He asked slowly, as though he was asking a 5 year old to explain why they'd thought it was a good idea to unravel six rolls of toilet paper, or draw eyebrows on the dog. Ducking her head, embarrassed, Emma mumbled the weak excuse that she'd slipped and got tangled when trying to open the window. August put his head in his hands for a moment before shooting her an expression that clearly yet silently called her out on bullshitting him. But Emma simply shook her head and pressed her lips together into a thin line.

Seeing that he was going to get nowhere with his 'weary parent' approach, August sighed and informed her they were going out for breakfast, and that he'd knock some sense into her over bagels and pancakes at Granny's.

As they reached the front door, however, Emma's heart dropped. Killian was coming downstairs. He cleared his throat awkwardly when he reached the bottom and, despite having her back to him, she just knew he was scratching behind his ear the way he always did when he felt uncomfortable in a situation. She refused to admit that she found that habit of his infuriatingly attractive. Along with every other damn thing about him.

She could also practically feel the glee radiating in waves from August, who had been following her out, and winced before she turned to face Killian. He flashed her a somewhat nervous smile, his usual cheeky smirk nowhere in sight.

"Morning, August…morning, love."

He cleared his throat again and she'd been right about the nervous ear scratching. She offered him a tight smile, feeling the tension thick around them as she fumbled for something to say. She was not good at navigating awkward situations, and August watching them like a hawk was not helping.

But before she could make some pathetic attempt at small talk in an effort to sidestep addressing the elephant in the room (or in their case, the hallway), August was looping his arm through Emma's and grinning at Killian in a way that immediately had dread knotting in Emma's stomach.

"Morning to you too, sunshine. The Lady Swan and I are heading to Granny's for breakfast. Care to join?"

Emma resisted the urge to elbow her so-called best friend in the ribs and retreat to her bedroom until Killian had forgotten she even existed anymore. But instead she simply gritted her teeth and pleaded with a god she didn't even believe existed for him to politely decline.

"Oh, yeah! Sure. Lemme just…"

He gestured to his current lack of a shirt (as though either Emma or August needed attention drawn to the fact that he was only wearing sweats) and canted his head toward the stairs. August nodded enthusiastically and Emma closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to keep herself from murdering her friend on the spot.

"You're an asshole and I hate you."

She said flatly, but August simply waved her away with a conspirational smirk on his face.

CS

"I'm just gonna lift up these blinds. We don't want any more incidents, do we now."

Emma was sure that if she glared any harder at August, she would drill a hole right through his head and if looks could kill she certainly needed a license for the ones she was shooting across the table. Killian chuckled and turned to try and make eye contact with one of the waitresses (who had already been staring at Killian since the three of them had walked in) to come take their order. Being sat beside Emma meant he was mostly oblivious to the death glares she was giving her friend, but she attempted to rein them in regardless, despite August's continued efforts to embarrass her.

Within minutes, their food had arrived. And of course, she should have known that August had a wholly inappropriate ulterior motive when he'd ordered a bagel with cream cheese and a side of sausage. Yet she still almost choked on her pancakes when she lifted her gaze from her food and found August grinning at her, wiggling his eyebrows and suggestively sliding the sausage through the hole in the bagel.

She stared at him in horror and dared a sidelong glance at Killian, praying he hadn't caught on to the obscene demonstration opposite them. Thankfully, he seemed nonplussed to it all and Emma delivered a swift kick to August's shin beneath the table, gripping her knife and angling it toward him in a way that threatened areas of his anatomy she knew he would prefer to keep attached.

Wincing, he shot her a smirk and then turned back to his food, seemingly satisfied that he'd embarrassed her enough for the time being. He turned to Killian and Emma tensed, but he simply engaged him in small talk and she relaxed marginally.

Once they'd finished their breakfasts, Killian excused himself to the bathroom, and the second he was out of earshot, August pounced.

"Emma Swan, I swear to Joan Rivers' ghost, if you don't ask that boy out I will do it for you."

She sank down in her seat and sighed. Since realizing that morning that he hadn't taken advantage of her when he'd had ample opportunity to do so the night before, she'd been fighting the warm fuzzy feelings for him that she was most definitely not accustomed to.

It had been two weeks since the initial incident with her blinds, and two weeks since she'd been slapped in the face with the stunning realization that Killian Jones had feelings for her. Two weeks of thinking about him nonstop and finding it increasingly difficult to fight her attraction to him. It had been much easier when they'd simply been strangers living under the same roof. But now…well, now they both had enough decent material on each other that they could surely use it as blackmail at some point.

"Emma, come on. You like him, he likes you. None of us need a college education to figure that one out. Just…take a leap of faith. He's a nice guy. Give it a chance."

Putting her head in her hands, Emma groaned. When August dropped the innuendos and endless supply of stupid nicknames he had for Killian, she knew he was serious. Leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, she met August's gaze.

"Do you think he'll fuck me over? Be honest with me. Because I have a notorious blind spot for the glaringly obvious and-"

"No," August cut in, his tone firm and sure, "I really don't think he will. You think I'd have been Team Captain Swan all this time if I thought he'd hurt you? I love you like sister and I'm also a good judge of character. He's one of the good ones. And I know every gory detail of your previous…choice decisions. But he's not Neal, Emma."

His voice softened then and he reached across the table to briefly squeeze her hand. She blinked back tears and nodded. Then, taking a deep breath, she slipped out of the booth and made her way toward the restrooms with a final glance back at August, who gave her a double thumbs up and a small smile she knew said 'I'm proud of you' and 'fucking finally'.

CS

"Whoa. Beware of lurking Swans. You okay, lass?"

Killian emerged from the bathroom to find Emma waiting anxiously, darting glances back toward the diner and shifting from foot to foot. She bit her lip and nodded, so he raised an eyebrow in concern. He rarely saw Emma nervous.

"I just…wanted to talk to you. About last night. I…wanted to thank you. For not taking advantage of me when I was too drunk to function and for not bringing up the fact that I practically gave you a topless lapdance. I don't think I'm ever gonna live that one down, if I'm honest."

She could feel her cheeks flushing even just talking about it, but it made her feel slightly better that Killian blushed too at the mention of that particular experience.

"I'm a gentleman, Swan. And a gentleman never takes advantage of a fair maiden not in control of all her faculties. And…well, I didn't want us to end up doing something you'd regret. If you decide you want to pursue activities of that nature with me, I want to know that you're not under the influence of anything, and that it's truly your choice."

Emma's breath caught in her throat as he spoke, the open and earnest expression on his face making her whole body feel warm. August was right, he really was one of the good ones. And she knew he wasn't just all talk. She knew he was speaking with conviction and his actions the night before only served to reinforce that.

When she finally found her voice, she stepped closer and looked up at him with shining eyes.

"Do you always have to speak like you're from the 14th century? No one speaks like that, Killian."

She teased lightheartedly, sniffling. They could both hear the emotion in her voice. He grinned and offered her a slight bow, bringing them closer still as he straightened up.

"Aye, m'lady-"

"Shut up. I've come back here to ask you out, okay? So…do you wanna? Go out with me, I mean."

His eyes widened slightly and he stared at her in surprise. He certainly hadn't been expecting such a development in their tentative relationship when he'd tagged along for a hangover breakfast. She was shuffling her feet again, her confidence suddenly wavering as the silence stretched between them, and he realized he hadn't answered her.

"You can reply to that, y'know…"

She said quietly, her voice much smaller and laced with uncertainty. He cleared his throat, heart thumping loudly in his chest, and made a teasing sound of contemplation, which only served to earn him a punch in the arm from a very tense Emma.

Before she pulled her hand back though, he grabbed it and pulled her closer to him, until they were stood almost chest-to-chest in the deserted back hallway of Granny's Diner. His gaze dropped to her lips and for a long moment neither of them dared to breath, each challenging the other to make the first move.

With a smile, Killian closed the space between them and felt her melt into his embrace the moment his lips found hers. She made a soft mewl of appreciation into his kiss and his arms tightened around her, never wanting the moment to end. He could taste cinnamon and syrup in her kiss and he reveled in the way she clung to him, one hand gripping a fistful of his shirt and the other skimming over his ribs. He couldn't help but shudder, and he could feel that she was just as affected as he was.

Pulling back finally, Emma realized they'd somehow ended up with her pressed up against the wall, his firm body pressed flush against her and his hand in her hair. She took in the utterly wonderstruck expression on his face, knowing she was probably mirroring the exact same expression, and grinned.

"So…was that a yes?"

Fin.