Chapter Text
He never thought of himself as an obsessive person.
He was most definitely a collector; guitars, rings, records, and he was definitely a very particular person, never failing to organize and clean every inch of the apartment and the bar if needed.
But he never had anything constantly plaguing the back of his mind or shaping his every move until her.
He watched her leave— she deliberately kept her head down and turned away from where he stood as if she could feel his eyes on her. Her brother, David, glanced his way a few times before they left in a rush, and Killian would look away; there was only one pair of eyes he wanted on his.
He almost felt bad but he couldn’t, not when she blatantly lied to him about his own past, but she’s stubborn and he finds himself determined to repair whatever happened before he lost her again.
The minute the front door slammed, he grabbed another beer and never stopped; by midnight he found himself in some sort of study. There were a lot of textbooks on surgery and anatomy and he flipped through a few curiously, guessing that Ruby’s boyfriend, Victor, was some sort of doctor. He snorted when he found the framed M.D. certificates hanging on the wall, and it made much more sense how Ruby Lucas could afford to live in a place like this.
There was a vintage acoustic guitar in the corner of the study; it was covered in a layer of dust and wildly out of tune— naturally, he had to fix these undesirable circumstances.
His thoughts and actions were molasses, slowed under the influence and every twist of his fingers to tighten the strings took a little too much focus. Tuning the entire instrument took about 20 minutes, wandering through the large apartment with it slung around his frame, moving through bodies without a care in the world.
“Killian!”
He smiles slowly, eyes still locked on his fingers strumming the strings as Ruby hugs him from behind.
“Found this in…” He lifts his head and looks around, trying to remember what room he walked out of until he gave up, gesturing somewhere behind him.
“It was covered in dust and sounded… bad.”
“Yeah,” Ruby nods against his shoulder, “Victor only has it ‘cause it was his brother’s. You play guitar?”
“Ah! You haven’t had the pleasure of hearing’ ‘im play, yet, have you Little Red?” Will asks, seemingly popping up out of nowhere on Killian’s other side, “He’s got about a bloody trillion of these at home.”
Will reaches out to touch one of the strings and Killian bats his hand away, shooting him a glare, “12… not a trillion.”
“You should play!” Ruby shouts as the club music gets louder, “12 guitars means you can play well, I’m pretty sure.”
“Yeah, Killy, you love playing for drunken strangers, eh?”
Killian blushes, shyly playing a few chords and completely ignoring Killy and the teasing giggles coming from his childish coworkers because he had a bit too much to drink, and he has a horribly lovesick song playing on repeat in his head, mirroring the constant image of blonde hair and glazed over green eyes.
“Now I’m speechless…”
Ruby squeals excitedly and runs to turn down the music as Killian plays a few lingering chords, his fingers stumbling slightly with the tremble of his left hand but he can’t find it in himself to care.
The other guests mumble at the sudden lack of music and Killian watches out of the corner of his eye as Victor, very unamused by the whole situation, drags over a karaoke machine and a microphone. Ruby snatches the mic from him with a kiss on the cheek and stands beside Killian. Will giggles again, cheering for him to sing.
“Over the edge I’m just breathless,”
I never thought that I’d catch this
Love bug again.”
May 20, 6 Years Ago
He found it strange that he couldn’t find a journal in the boxes Liam picked up from his old apartment.
He’s always had journals, and he selfishly hoped that the one he’d been writing in for the last 4 years would answer all his questions— but it’s nowhere to be found.
They’re in his room; Liam’s old study that he cleared out for Killian. Liam’s unpacking his clothes near the closet across the room and Killian’s limping back and forth trying to find a damn journal that doesn’t exist— he’s starting to think he should’ve picked his things up from the apartment back in New York himself.
Liam’s particularly quiet today, but Killian can’t call him out on it. He’s stressed enough without listening to Liam’s many grievances about his condition.
“Have you checked the shoeboxes? You had loads of them,” Liam said, hanging up a leather jacket Killian’s never seen before— a common trend during their unboxing.
Killian frowned, grunting as he limped over to another box, trying not to put more pressure on his recently un-casted leg. He sorts through it, pulling out old boots and ones he’s never seen before, and running a hand through his hair once again when the only journal he’d found was filled to the brim, the last date about 5 years ago.
He flips through it again, scanning the dates at the top for the period of time he’d forgotten, and growing more and more frustrated by every entry he remembers.
Until he flips to the last page; a list of songs, filling the lines from top to bottom.
Unforgettable, Nat King Cole
Tennessee Whiskey, Chris Stapleton
Lovebug, Jonas Brothers
Ridiculously romantic love songs are scrawled in his handwriting, filling up a piece of paper with no particular title, dated for… May 20th of this year.
Today.
“Was something… supposed to happen today?”
Liam freezes from his spot on the floor, with his back to Killian and his arms about to reach into another box— Killian would have to guess his brother’s sorrow demeanor has to do with whatever he’s going to lie about.
“Why do you ask, Killian?”
Once again, evading a question concerning Killian’s past.
“This… entry…” He holds up the journal and Liam turns around. His brother's eyes get insufferably sad, as they’ve been doing often lately, but Liam only shakes his head.
“Not that I can recall, no.”
Another lie.
Killian frowns and worries at his bottom lip, reading over the list of songs once again and attempting to keep himself from lunging at his brother.
“I’m gonna take a walk,” He says shortly and snaps the journal shut, holding it tight to his chest.
“Killian—“
“I’m fine.”
He soon puts every song in a playlist for his phone, titling it “May 20th”, and listens to it when he feels particularly, painfully alone.
Now
He’s not a stalker.
“I’m not a stalker.”
Will shoots him a doubtful look from the other side of the bar, “You just listed off her occupation, her favorite color and her favorite coffee shop, mate— that’s a little stalker-ish considering the lady wants nothin’ to do with ya.”
It’s been a week and he’s… he’s hoping.
She’s in the city, somewhere, and he talks to her best friend nearly every day. Will’s right— she wants nothing to do with him, but Killian suspects she believes she’s doing it for his benefit, and her pleas for him to stay away won’t work for as long as she hopes it will.
For now, he’s content to sit back and listen to Ruby talk about Emma Swan, and think about Emma Swan, and research Emma Swan.
But he’s not a stalker.
Killian rolls his eyes, setting a glass on the bar a little harder than necessary and glaring at Will, “I got all this information from Red, Scarlet— I didn’t stalk her,” He growls.
He’s prepared to pull rank and tell Scarlet to get to work, but looking around he finds the bar nearly empty and there’s really no point— Ruby was supposed to be here a while ago but again, there’s no point to tending to an empty bar, so now he’s subject to Will Scarlet lecturing him on being a stalker.
“But I know you, Killy—“
“Don’t call me—“
“You wouldn’t have asked Little Red directly,” Will reasons, “So, she must’ve just mentioned all of these things over the past week— she sure talks about the lass a lot— and you must’ve stored all of this information in one of those little journals you have. I also have your search history—“
“What?”
“— and I know you looked her up,” Will declares with a nod of his head before clearing his throat and pulling out—
Killian’s phone?
“Emma Swan, Creative Director of the Wall Street Journal, an NYU alumni with a degree in journalism—“
“Okay! Okay,” Killian throws his hands up in defeat, “So I looked her up—“
“Ha!”
“— that doesn’t make me a stalker, Scarlet,” He bites out, snatching his phone from Will’s hand and making a reminder to change his passcode.
“Who’s a stalker?” Ruby asks, having just walked in and settling on the barstool next to Will.
“Where were you, Red? We opened 20 minutes ago,” Killian chastises, and Will crosses his arms in mock intimidation.
Ruby rolls her eyes and smiles, “Emma was running late because she couldn’t find her engagement ring, and she’s never late, so of course I had to look—“
“Engagement ring?”
His heart stops beating all-together, and he knows he’s flushed red all over because he could hear his own voice crack— of course it was foolish to think that nobody had made an honest woman out of her; the woman was a force of nature. He curses himself as he feels his dwindling hope start to die.
That’s until Ruby’s eyes widen and then she covers up her surprise with a smirk, “She hates when men hit on her in the office— it’s just costume jewelry,” She explains quickly with a shrug, and then she leans over with her elbows perched on the bar top, “Why? Are you interested?”
“Yeah, Killy,” Will teases, and grunts when Killian slaps him upside the head.
“Are you the so-called stalker you two were very loudly discussing?”
Killian rolls his eyes, “I’m not a stalker, I just wanted to know a bit about her, is all,” He mumbles.
“She doesn’t seem like the type of lady that’s easy to know, mate,” Will points out, reaching over to grab Killian’s flask from behind the bar.
Ruby’s smirk fades into something more forlorn, “I’ve been trying to set her up for years now— she had a bad falling out with this mysterious ex a long time ago,” She says sadly, shaking her head, “She deserves somebody, ya know? But no matter how hard I try to convince her she just… doesn’t want to try.”
Killian stares at her with a frown, trying to process more information about the elusive, closed off Emma Swan.
“Must’ve messed her up bad, then, eh?” Will asks softly and Ruby nods.
“Yeah. She won’t talk about it— I don’t even know his name, but she… I could tell she really really loved him— like “go to the ends of the earth for him” love. But it was so long ago, now, and I just want her to be happy again— I don’t think I’ve ever really seen her happy.”
The three bartenders sit in silence for a few moments, mulling over Ruby’s words until a group of college students come through the door, giving them an excuse to get busy.
They don’t breach the subject for the rest of the night— Will and Ruby entertain the crowd but Killian doesn’t feel like singing tonight— he doesn’t feel like speaking at all, really, because the more he learns about this woman, the more of a challenge she becomes.
He knows it’s ridiculous to think that he could be this mysterious ex— surely he would’ve known after 6 years— but Emma was definitely lying when he asked about their past together. Killian didn’t push her because she obviously wasn’t going to tell him the truth that night— and because he’s not totally sure he could handle it.
One thing he does know, though, is that Emma Swan is the most beautiful, intriguing woman he’s ever met, and he’s not one to back down from a challenge.
His hope grows when Ruby pulls him aside after they lock up the bar.
“She loves buttercups and daffodils,” She says with a soft smile, “Her receptionist, Ariel, will let you in her office if you come up with a good enough story, and she arrives just before 7 every morning.”
Killian shoots her a doubtful look, “She doesn’t seem like a flowers and chocolates kind of lass, Red.”
“Hot chocolate’s her favorite drink, and every girl is a flowers girl,” Ruby says with a wink, and then walks off, blowing him a kiss behind her back as Killian stands in the middle of the sidewalk, lost in thought.
He orders about 30 arrangements of yellow flowers the next day, nearly clearing out every florist shop on their block and renting two wooden carts by 5 am.
It’s just past 5:30 when he gets into the elevator inside the 1211 Avenue of the Americas building, pressing the 6th floor button, trying not to turn back around and run like hell.
It would be difficult anyway, considering the massive cart of flowers he has with him— and the matching cart of flowers Will Scarlet has standing right next to him.
“You’re sure it’s on the 6th—“
“Yes,” Killian bites out and Will glares.
2nd Floor
“Oi! I don’t like that tone, mate, considering those security guards are twice our size and we’re practically breaking and entering at 5 in the fucking morning! Genius plan!”
3rd Floor
“Well then why did you agree to it?” Killian asks with equal indignation.
4th Floor
Will’s leaning against his flower cart and scowling, “How else are ya gonna get a billion bloody flowers up there, Killy? Huh? Do ya think the term “ride or die” is just a joke? I don’t have to be all that happy about the “die” piece of it, now, do I?”
5th Floor
“You’re just snippy ‘cause you didn’t get your beauty sleep Scarlet,” Killian says, turning back to face the doors with an eye roll, “And we’re not going to die.”
He’s not so sure about that last part, but Will doesn’t need to know that.
6th Floor
The doors open and Killian doesn’t move until Will shoves him out, causing him to trip over the front wheel of the cart and crash into a woman walking by, spilling paper everywhere as everyone in the office stops and stares.
“I’m— fuck, I’m so sorry,” He mutters, hurriedly picking up papers from the floor and handing them back to the woman.
She’s short with bright red hair, and in the back of his mind Killian might find it funny if this was the Ariel that Ruby mentioned.
“Oh! It’s okay, I wasn't looking where I…” She lifts her head and looks past him to the two carts of flowers with a lifted brow, “… where I was… going..”
Killian awkwardly clears his throat after handing the last of the paper to the woman, and tries to block her view of Will Scarlet and the ridiculous amount of flowers, “Do you know where I could find Ariel?” He asks.
“That’s me!” She exclaimed happily
Of course it is.
“What can I do for you…”
“Killian Jones,” He says with a polite smile, “And that’s Will.”
Will waves from behind him but Ariel doesn’t take her eyes off Killian— Will mutters something that sounds a lot like “why do I even bother”, and Killian tosses a glare over his shoulder.
Ariel’s face lights up with a smile, “Oh my goodness, it’s so nice to meet you!”
Killian laughs half-heartedly, put off by Ariel’s exuberance, “Aye, it’s nice to meet you as well, uh— I have a surprise delivery for Emma… Emma Swan?”
As soon as the words leave his mouth he nearly bashes his head into the closest wall in shame.
So much for a convincing story.
Ariel’s eyes are twice their original size now, looking absolutely awestruck and Killian’s at a loss on how to proceed, waiting for Ariel to respond. The woman suddenly shakes her head, huffing out a laugh.
“I’m sorry, you’re just… so pretty!” She says, shaking her head in disbelief and then she gasps, “Don’t tell Ms. Swan I said that! I’m so sorry, that’s so unprofessional— yes, of course!” She reaches into her pocket to hand him a small key, “Her office is just down the hall, last door, right past the desk.”
Killian stands there for a moment, shocked by how easy their heist was and also mildly concerned about the safety of the building. What if I was a bloody ax murderer? She would let an ax murderer into Emma’s office. He made a note to call whoever runs this place and lecture them on their security.
He nods politely after a moment, “Thank you, love.” He can practically feel Will’s eyeroll behind them as Ariel giggles and blushes.
“Of course! You should come by more often,” She says gleefully, “I’m sure Emma would love it.”
Doubtful.
He nods and thanks her again anyway, making his way with Will towards the office as the rest of Emma’s coworkers eye them suspiciously, whispering amongst themselves and Killian can feel himself losing his nerve.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” He whispers to Will, gripping the handle bar on the flower cart so tight his knuckles are white.
“I could’ve fucking told you that!”
“Shhhhh! Shut the hell up!” Killian hisses with wide eyes, and he can feel even more people staring at them and he picks up his stride towards the door. This is nothing like a walk of shame— the two wooden carts full of yellow flowers make that quite obvious— but it sure as hell feels like one.
They open the door once Killian turns the key and swiftly make their way inside— and again? Really? This was way too easy— they’re getting a call the minute he leaves this building.
He stops to look around— the office is cold and corporate. Everything is in blacks, whites, and grays, and the only thing hanging on the walls is Emma’s NYU degree, framed in black. The bookshelves are nearly organized as well as the desk itself— even the two pens set off to the side seem to be set at an exact angle. There are piles of neatly stacked papers and journals in one corner of the desk and a picture frame on the other. He walks slowly towards the desk, hand outstretched to turn the picture frame before Will snatches him back.
“No snooping, Killy, there ain’t no time for that,” Will hisses, “I’m bloody tired and we’ve got work later tonight, so let’s set up these stupid flowers before they die, eh?”
Killian frees his arm from Will's grip, “Aye, you’re right,” he grunts, begrudgingly, before setting to work.
They set up every vase and bouquet on every shelf, table and cabinet they see. Will Scarlet, despite his original reluctance, messes with each arrangement so that the best angle is faced towards the door, much to Killian’s amusement.
By the time they’re done, the sun has fully risen and the office smells like a garden.
Killian looks over to Will, who’s mirroring his tired but proud smile, before they high five and laugh like a couple of adolescent boys.
“She’s gonna love it, mate,” Will says with a pat to Killian’s shoulder, and Killian shakes his head with a smirk, capping the marker he found and placing the blue sticky note on the table.
“Oh no, Scarlet, she’s gonna hate it.”
“Then why the hell did I get up at the ass crack of dawn for this?” Will says with an affronted tone of voice, taking a step back, “Didn’t Red say she’d like this?”
“Doesn’t matter; a woman like that isn’t flattered by an intrusion in a private space, no matter how romantic. She’s gonna hate it so much she’ll most definitely make a call to complain,” Killian shrugs, he then walks over to the desk and picks up a booklet, holding it up to Will and then putting it under his jacket.
“I’m also stealing her planner.”
“Jones,” Will says with an unimpressed look, “This is juvenile— and that’s coming from me.”
“It’ll work— she’ll notice it’s missing, call me again, except this time she’ll have to see me.”
“Killian—“
“Everyone has been lying to me, Scarlet,” Killian says beseechingly, “I can’t— if I have to terrorize her like a bloody schoolboy with a crush to get her to tell me anything real, I will.”
Will frowns, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna stop you, mate,” he says with a sigh, “but I know from experience; apologizing to a lady isn’t easy.”
“I can imagine— good thing I’ve got my dashing good looks, then, aye?” Killian says with a wink, before they make their exit. Killian returns the key to Ariel with a grateful smile, and the receptionist once again urges him to visit more— that it would make Emma happy.
He’s starting to realize that Emma Swan is perceived as miserable to everyone close to her.
He wakes up to his phone hours later, reading the unfamiliar number before answering with a growl in lieu of a greeting.
The voice at the other end of the line wakes him up almost immediately, and he smirks at the downright terrifying tone of her voice— part of him feels like a dick because she’s definitely not happy now.