#baskets and bouquets

[best-left-hook-jones]

Baskets and Bouquets (1/1)

Summary: There are a few things that Emma Swan is absolutely certain about; no morning is tolerable without at least one cup of coffee, all marriage is a sham, and if a stupidly handsome guy walks into her tiny flower shop with a massive order for flower arrangements six weeks before a wedding, he’s damn well going to have to help her. Flowershop!AU

Rating: T (No trigger warnings apply)

AO3

A/N: Finaly, my CSLB is here! It feels like so long ago when I started this little project, and I’m excited to finally set it free into the world. I want to thank my phenomenal artists who gifted me with the most incredible pieces of artwork for this story; the above painting is by the magnificent @ladyciaramiggles, and the three accompanying image sets by the wonderful @captainodonoghue depicting our favourite lovebirds can be found here, here, and here. And, of course, where would I be without my beta, @wellhellotragic? Thank you all for all of your encouragement and kind words! It’s been a great time :) 

Enjoy!

Emma Swan had never been a tidy person.

It was a fact that surprised most people who knew of her less than stable upbringing, with more than one ex-boyfriend having pointed out that someone who had grown up in the foster system ought to know better than to leave their possessions sprawled all over the place. Sometimes Emma would reply that it was habit to want to leave her mark on a place and take full possession of a space that belonged solely to her. Most times, though, she would simply shrug. The mess of empty take out containers had always been there before her dates had arrived, and if her dating history were anything to go by, they would likely outlast all of them as well.

So when Emma had moved to Storybrooke, setting up a flower shop in the center of main street, the mess of boxes and equipment had lingered for weeks afterwards. It had only been at her new business partner’s insistence that the empty cardboard had finally been dragged to the bins in the back. Emma had only been working with Ruby for eight months, but the fierce brunette had already proved to be her rock.  

Emma finished the last curl of ribbon and dropped the scissors down with a clatter on the counter. One down, only 12 more arrangements to go. Well, for this order at least. Pink spools of ribbon were mixed in with green, blue, and yellow bows, all of which were to go with different bouquet orders, and most of which had to be completed before the afternoon was done. And it was already three o’clock.

She would need more coffee for this.

Emma hopped down from where she was perched on her stool, stretching her knees and back with a groan. Possibly two cups of coffee. That was another reason for all the overtime and extra work Emma had piled on her plate recently; if Emma was going to continue functioning at the rate she was going, they would need a new coffee machine for the back. Something that that didn’t splutter and groan like a dying orca every time she wanted a simple cup of black coffee. If they continued to do well over the next few months, they might even be able to afford one that made hot chocolate as well.  

Emma had just flicked on the switch for the ancient machine that occupied a quarter of the cramped counter when Ruby poked her head through the doorway.

“Emma, there’s a tall, dark, and handsome man here to see you,” she said, skimming her tongue across her teeth seductively.

Emma groaned. Oh god, what damage control would she have to make now.

Ruby seemed insistent in her goal to find Emma a suitable date from the small pool of men that the village comprised of. It didn’t help much that Ruby had slept with many of them already, and those that she hadn’t didn’t meet Emma’s standard - whatever that was. Not that she was even looking. Why pursue an end goal that would never happen?   

Bidding a sad farewell to the empty mug of the counter, Emma made her way from the back of the shop to the front counter. Stepping across the threshold, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

Killian Jones was leaning nonchalantly against her counter, looking lost as he fiddled with the leaves of a red kalanchoe.

She would have recognized him a mile away, with his warm, winter-cozy style and piercing blue eyes, he looked as though he were meant for the cover of a nature-lovers magazine. They had never really spoken before - nothing more than benal small talk, at least - but she knew that he was the brother of Liam Jones. Liam had always been nice enough at the picnic that Mary Margaret hosted upon Emma’s arrival to the town eight months ago, asking her about her new business and offering to show her around the town as her own unofficial welcome party. But Killian Jones had always been distant and aloof, and it seemed that he was only that way toward her. It had frustrated her to no end to receive a cold shoulder from someone she barely knew, but Mary Margaret had immediately assured her that it couldn’t possibly be something she had said. “Men are strange,” she kept explaining. The words had brought her little comfort.

Still, no one could deny that he was absolutely gorgeous, and Ruby hadn’t failed to notice how her eyes lingered on him every time she caught sight of him at the diner he frequented. The fact that Killian Jones frequented said diner was only known to her on account that she happened to work there. Money was tight at the moment, and Ruby’s grandmother had kindly offered her a waitressing job when she had learned of her granddaughter’s new business venture. Emma hadn’t, in fact, been stalking him, no matter what Ruby’s wolfish grin at her slipping up that detail had implied. Even now, out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see Ruby waiting in the wings, arms crossed at her chest and face eager to see how their interaction would play out. Well, Emma wasn’t about to give her the time of day.

The man in question stood up straighter as he caught sight of her, nervously shoving his hands into his pockets.

“What can I do for you?” Emma asked politely, purposely keeping his name from falling from her lips.

Killian shuffled his feet, looking as though he wished to be anywhere but in her shop.

“I was looking for some flowers,” he replied simply, threading a thumb through his belt loop. The other came up to rub absently at his nose. It was a failed attempt at appearing casual, if Emma had ever seen one.

No shit, Sherlock, Emma thought to herself. Ruby snorted with laughter in her corner, clearly having had the same thought.

Emma gestured vaguely at the array of flowerpots and vases that filled every inch of available space of the many shelves and tables of the narrow shop.

“Well, you came to the right place,” Emma noted.

“It’s for a wedding.”

Emma tried and failed to hide her surprise. It wasn’t as though Killian wasn’t hot enough to land a woman, but she could have sworn that he hadn’t had a date at the welcome party. Emma was sure she would have remembered. Had he found a bride in the last few months? Or had his date been sick the day of the party?

Whatever. What did it matter who blue-eyes was marrying? It’s not like she was really planning on begging him for a date any time soon.

If it really didn’t matter though, why did she feel a knot forming in her stomach?

Killian must have noticed the confusion in her face.

“Liam’s,” he clarified, rolling his eyes. “And Elsa’s, of course. They’re planning their floral arrangements.”

Oh. Right. Mary Margaret had mentioned something about the two lovebirds getting married. Though, by the way Liam and Elsa had seemed almost shy and blushing around one another at the party, Emma would have thought that they resembled more “lovestruck teenagers” than fiancees.

I guess that’s love, for you.  

“Alright.” Emma grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the cash register, preparing to take down the order. “When do you need them by?”

“Six weeks from now.”

She wrote that down, underneath his name in big block letters. In Boston, it would have been nearly impossible to fulfill an order in such a short period of time with so many florists using the same vendors, but in a small town like Storybrooke, there wasn’t much competition.

“And what kind of flowers were you thinking?”

Killian looked unsure. “Wedding...flowers?” He replied hesitantly.

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes. “No worries. I can go through some options with you in a bit. How many arrangements do you need?”

“Four dozen.”

Emma nearly dropped her pen.

“Four dozen?” Who in the hell needed that many arrangements for one, small town wedding?!

Killian only shrugged. “Elsa likes flowers. She said something about recreating spring in the winter. Or, something. I can’t recall, exactly.”

“Killian,” Emma began, her heart sinking in her chest. “I can’t complete an order like that.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Emma spluttered. “Well, for one, I don’t have nearly enough baskets or vases to put them in -”

“That’s not an issue,” Killian interrupted, waving his hand. “I can make the box frames for them easily enough.”

“You could make them?” Emma was skeptical, but Killian simply shrugged again.

“Why not?”

“Alright,” Emma tried again, “How about the fact that a set like that would cost you a fortune?”  

“Elsa’s family is footing the bill for them. Apparently she has some rich aunt from Norway or somewhere that left her a fortune. Why anyone would spend it on flowers, I’ll never know, but…”

“Even with that kind of money, I couldn’t possibly get an order for that many flowers and arrange them in that short amount of time? Ruby and I don’t have that kind of time.”

“I could help provide a third set of hands if you needed.”

“Killian, be serious.”

“I am being serious,” he replied, and something in his tone made Emma think he was. “I know how much this wedding means to them, and I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

Emma looked desperately at Ruby for help, but the brunette simply stared back, pensive. Finally, she quirked an eyebrow and gave a quick nod of approval. Ruby was in if she was.

Could they really do it?

Emma turned back to Killian, noting the look of determination on his face.

“Fine,” Emma sighed, throwing her hands up in surrender. “We’ll do it. For Liam and Elsa. But don’t blame me if this all goes to shit,” she added with a pointed glare.

A delighted grin broke out across his face.

“On my honour, Swan,” he promised, clapping his hands together in anticipation. “Now, where are the arrangement books?”

Elsa wanted blue flowers.

Of course she wanted blue flowers.

It didn’t leave the trio with many options in terms of flower choice, but after a long debate, they decided on a tasteful arrangement of white roses, daisies, light blue hydrangeas, and deep delphinium. Emma would trade out the daisies for lilies in some of them, and add in a few baby’s breath in others, but the main difference between the sets would be Killian’s intricately decorated boxes that he would create by hand over the next few weeks. Emma would place the order for the flowers, and a few days leading up to the wedding, Gus would pick them up during his usual runs to the distributor in Portland. It would be a mad dash to assemble the arrangements then, with all hands on deck needed to make the final preparations.

First and foremost, they would need to prepare the wooden boxes that would house the mini masterpieces. Even with Killian’s assurance that he was “perfectly capable of assembling them on time, thank you,” Emma wasn’t willing to risk four dozen flowers arriving on her doorstep with nowhere to put them. No, if they were in this, they were in it together.

And so it was decided; each morning for the next few weeks, Emma and Ruby would complete their regularly scheduled orders while Killian worked his job at the docks, and every afternoon would be reserved for assembling the wooden frames. It was a delicately balanced operation, made more difficult by the two owners’ waitressing jobs in the evening, but it could work.

Still, it didn’t stop Emma from cursing a certain blue eyed man with his stupid blue flowers when she returned home that night, feet sore and aching from another long shift at Granny’s. Nor did it stop her from grimacing when he walked into her shop the next afternoon, looking far too eager at seeing the sample arrangement she had managed to pull together earlier in the day. In his hand was a solid square wooden frame, with intricate criss crossing lattice on two sides. Emma couldn’t help but be impressed by the workmanship.

She led him into the back room, conscious of the fact that the mess left by her from yesterday had yet to be cleaned up, and had, in fact, even grown in size. If Killian noticed, he didn’t comment. Smart man.

“Is this it, then, Swan?” He asked, taking in the delicate display of blue flowers in the small glass cube she had borrowed.  

“Yeah, why?” She replied, a bit defensively. He may have had a pretty face, but it was hard for her to shake the way he’d avoided her, and she wasn’t sure if she trusted him.

“It’s wonderful,” he admired, turning it around in his hands to examine each side. “You have a talent.”

Emma let out a breath, seeing the truth in his eyes. “Thank you. Shall we see what it looks like in the frame?”

He nodded, as Emma carefully lifted the arrangement out of the vase and placed it in the carved wooden box. The final versions of the boxes would be painted white, and Emma had already decided on adding some extra ribbons as flourishings, but she couldn’t deny that it looked good. Damn, perhaps she could hire him to make others for her shop.

“I think it looks alright,” Killian noted with a smile, taking a step back. “What do you think, Swan?”

“I think it’ll work. How many do you have?”

“I’ve got a few dozen boards in my truck already. Wait here.”

Killian left to retrieve the materials from his old, rusted red pick-up, carrying in the loads one at a time. Soon, the back room was filled with boards, nails, and tools of various shapes and sizes that Emma had never even seen before, let alone used. She’d learned how to change a tire at an early age, and had earned just enough credits to pass arts and crafts, but she was by no means a builder. How was she ever meant to recreate the beautiful box he had made? And so many times over, for that matter?

Killian set down the last of the planks in a heap on the table before brushing his hands on his jeans and removing a handkerchief from his back pocket.

“I didn’t realise people still used handkerchiefs, old man,” Emma teased, as he blew his nose into the white cotton square.

Killian shot her a weak glare in between blows. “You would too, if you worked on a fishing boat all day. Nothing unmanly about a bit of cold ocean spray getting to your bones, Swan.”

“Whatever,” Emma conceded, playfully rolling her eyes. “Just don’t get me sick, yeah?”

They got to work arranging the piles, Emma following along as Killian explained how the boxes were to be assembled. Ruby joined them a few minutes later, receiving a brief tutorial on the process before returning to watch the front of the store. They would switch off on the hour, every hour, until the store closed for the night.

It was a rough start for Emma. None of the frames fit together in any way that made any sense, and how Killian had managed to hide the nails from sight for every box was baffling. But Killian was patient, and soon they had a small box that resembled the one he had brought in. From then on, it got easier, though Emma still found it unnerving to have to share her workspace with another. She’d stumbled into Killian on more than one occasion already, turning from a counter to find herself nearly chest to chest with him. Killian would always flush and step aside, muttering an apology as he’d reach around her for the tool he’d been searching for.

They made chit chat as they went, barely talking about more than the weather. Still, it was better than silence, and the broken pieces of conversation between them were already more words than they had ever spoken to each other. His lips seemed to loosen slightly when Emma had finally elected to take a break and make them both coffees. He’d raised an eyebrow when Emma had returned with a coffee for him done the way he liked it - black, with just a touch of sugar. The twinkle in his eye had remained after that, even after Emma had pointed out that it was all part of being a good waitress.

Emma asked about his work, something that eased the conversation along well. Killian seemed to love his job, and was eager to talk about the daily trips out on the ocean that he made along with his brother. The wind and rain that had been bombarding the small coastal town had made their work more difficult, but Killian loved a challenge. Emma was surprised to hear how many close calls the pair had had over the past few weeks, and Emma could swear the room seemed to rock beneath her feet as he described a particularly powerful wave that had nearly toppled them a few days earlier. Elsa had apparently given Liam grief for returning home that night, drenched to the bone and carrying a bucket of fresh fish that he had saved for them in celebration.

Emma had brushed aside questions about her life before arriving in Storybrooke. Only Ruby really knew anything about her past life, and that was only because they had practically been attached at the hip for the past few months. She wasn’t about to open up to old blue-eyes simply because he’d bothered to sit down and chat with her for the first time in months. He was handsome, but not that handsome.

Her fingers were pinched and sore by the time she finally closed up shop later that afternoon. They had only managed to get three boxes done, though that was likely due to Emma’s inexperience and Killian having to stop his own progress to check her work. It would get easier, he had promised with a smile. Emma dearly hoped he was right. Luckily, she had managed to hire a local girl, Ashley, to run the shop on the weekends, meaning she would at least have two days rest before she would have to attempt the boxes again. But looking once again at her red digits, Emma wasn’t quite sure that two days would suffice.

It was only Ruby’s insistence and pestering that pulled Emma out of bed come Monday morning.

The relaxing weekend Emma had longed for had turned into 48 hours of torturous hell. The city’s mayor, Regina Mills, had apparently taken offence to the size of the sign above of her shop, citing it as an eyesore and an infringement on the bylaws she had so carefully constructed. Or so it had been explained to Emma by the overly friendly police detective that had shown up on her doorstep at breakfast Saturday morning. By the way that detective Humbert blushed a deep scarlet every time he said the mayor’s name, Emma wasn’t sure that the mayor’s complaint had been technically by the books.

Sunday had brought its own unwelcome surprises. Emma had started the engine of her small yellow bug that morning, intent on finally getting some proper groceries for once, only to have it crap out on her three streets away. Gus, also the local mechanic when he wasn’t making runs into Boston to impress Ruby, had been nothing but accommodating, offering her one of the shop’s second hand chevy’s as a temporary loan. She’d taken it with a polite smile, but the gesture had done nothing to ease her stomach on the bill that was surely headed her way. Gus only fell further from her graces when he informed her that Marco had already begun taking down the sign for her shop per detective Humbert’s orders. She’d had to choke down her harsh words at that.

So it wasn’t entirely her fault that she slammed the car door as she arrived at her shop Monday morning, nor could anyone blame her for the glare she shot at the empty metal supports that had once held the words “Middlemist Flowers”. She couldn’t wait for the barrage of questions that were sure to come from curious patrons pointing out the change, as if she wasn’t already aware of the missing signage. Perhaps people wouldn’t come in at all, thinking she’d been shut down. Wouldn’t that be great, she grumbled.   

It was only when Emma found the door to her shop unlocked and lights on that she truly began to think that the day had gone down the toilet. Had Ashley forgotten to lock up yesterday? It wasn’t like her to do that, but her husband had told Emma when he’d come in for his shift at Granny’s on Friday evening that their little Alexandra had had a fever. Perhaps she had had to leave in a rush?

Emma pushed the door open and sighed a breath of relief to find everything apparently still in its place. The potted plants near the front remained undisturbed and the cash register appeared untouched. If someone had noticed the unlocked door, they hadn’t bothered to take advantage of the oversight, and on a day like today, Emma was ready to count that as a miracle.

She made her way to the back room and nearly dropped her bag in fright when she found a figure already seated on one of the high stools, waiting for her. Her heart settled back down a moment later as her sleep deprived brain finally caught up enough to place a name to the face.

“How did you get in here?” She asked, more harshly than she’d intended.

“Ruby let me in. What happened to your sign?” Killian asked, nodding toward the front of the store.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbled, brushing past him to lay her jacket down on the stool in the corner. Perhaps she should have expected it, but the sound of the leather slipping off the seat and hitting the floor as she turned to face Killian only escalated her annoyance.

“Ruby was here?” She asked instead.

“Yes. She said something about Marco having come around and that she wanted to make sure you wouldn’t, as she put it, ‘freak out’.”

Emma wasn’t certain he deserved to be on the receiving end of her glare, but given as Ruby had already dashed off, she would have to settle for him.

“I’m not going to freak out,” she argued.  

Killian only looked on in amusement as he registered exactly how terribly the blond’s day was going so far. Well, he could go to hell, if he was going to be like that.

Actually, on a second glance, perhaps home would have been the better option. Whatever cold he’d caught days before had seemed to have gotten worse - his eyes were slightly red and puffy, and by the way his fingers twitched toward his nose, Emma was sure he was fighting back sneezes.

Emma nearly sent him home, citing a bad headache and a million other problems that she had to attend to today, when Killian walked over to the far counter and fetched two take-away cups of steaming coffee. Emma’s face lit up with surprise as he handed her one.

“I couldn’t work your coffee machine,” Killian explained, leaning past her to pick up her jacket off the floor and gently replacing it on the counter instead.

“Thanks,” Emma nearly stammered. “It - uh - the machine is a bit of a hell beast.”

“I noticed.”

“I’ll pay you back for the coffee,” Emma continued, taking a sip. God, the scent of the dark roast alone was enough to bring the day back to near tolerable levels.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Killian said with a smirk, leaning against the workbench. She didn’t miss the way he bit his bottom lip. “I’ve thought of another way you can repay me.”

Oh great. He probably wanted a discount on the order.

Or worse. A date.

Emma waited patiently, crossing her arms over her chest. It was a great shame that the rest of her coffee would soon be dumped into his lap. She had really been looking forward to the treat.

“I need help with my best man’s speech.”

Emma blinked. “What?”

“I’ve never had to write one before,” he explained. “I want it to be good.”

“And you think I’ve written one before?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “I think between the two of us we should be able to come up with something.”

Emma thought about it. She’d never been invited to a wedding before - she’d never had any close friends before moving to Storybrooke - but she’d seen enough movies to understand how best man speeches went, in theory. They usually began with a bunch of sentimental early childhood anecdotes, followed by jokes about the bride and groom’s dating history, and finishing with a sappy blessing about love and the couple’s hopes and dreams for the future.

Oh god, maybe it would have been better if he’d just asked her on a damn date.

Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Killian noticed her hesitation and beat her to it.

“Before you say no, can I just clarify that all I’m asking is that you listen to it and tell me if it’s complete shite. Please?”

Damn.

“Fine,” Emma conceded, settling down on one of the seats across from him. Why couldn’t she say no to him? They weren’t even really friends. “You can rehearse it with me as long as you can keep working on the boxes at the same time.”

‘Deal,” Killian agreed with a satisfied grin.

They set up their stations of wooden boards and screws while Killian took out a scrap of paper from his pocket. His entire draft was the size of a cocktail napkin. Good lord, they would have some work to do.

“I was thinking of starting with something classic. How about, ‘how is everyone doing tonight?’”

Emma made a face. “Yeah, if you want it to sound like a high school football rally.”

“I think it sounds fun!” He protested.

Emma shook her head. “How about something simple? Like, ‘Good Evening, Ladies and Gentlemen’? That’s pretty standard, I think.”

“Well, now that just sounds like a Ted Talk.”

“It’s supposed to sound formal!”

“Alright, alright,” Killian conceded. “We’ll get back to that later, then.”

The rest of the speech was better. It was clear that Killian and Liam were close, and his words seemed to flow easier as he talked about his older brother. Liam, she quickly learned, could do no wrong and had practically raised the pair after their father had left and their mother had died. Being an orphan herself, Emma could almost sympathize with his loss. She had never known her parents, having bounced around in the system for a while before finally settling for a life on the run. But she had never had anyone like Liam to rescue her. Especially not one selfless enough to forgo their dream of joining the navy to stay home and raise their kid sibling. Perhaps her life would have turned out differently if she had.

She managed a forced smile as Killian concluded his speech with a heartfelt well-wish for the future of the bride and groom. Unfortunately for her, Killian was perceptive.

“You hate it,” he noted, his face grim.

“No, no,” she hurried, looking for a plausible excuse for her sour mood. “I just… I’m not a big fan of weddings. Or marriage.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow. “But you own a flower shop that specialises is wedding arrangements.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like profiting off of them,” she pointed out.

“Have you ever even been in love?”

“No. I’ve never been in love.”

Killian simply hummed noncommittally.

Emma tensed. Was he judging her? “And what? You have? I don’t see you rushing to the altar either.”

It was the wrong thing to say. As soon as the words left her mouth and the cheeky grin faded into something much more melancholy, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Sorry,” she murmured awkwardly. “That wasn’t fair to say.”

“Not to worry, Swan,” he waved her off, picking up a nail and twisting it between his rough fingers. “You aren’t wrong. I thought I’d found a love worth marrying and it turned out to have all been a lie. So no, I’m not rushing to the altar.”

The bitterness in his voice made her heart sink. She had pushed her own cynicism too far and had succeeded in bringing him down with her. Misery may have loved company, but that didn’t make it right.

Just as she was about to open her mouth and apologise again, Ruby popped her head through the curtained doorway.

“Top of the hour,” she pointed out, nodding to the clock on the wall. “Want to switch?”

Emma looked down at the half built crate in front of her. She’d barely accomplished anything. She sighed, but stood from her station to switch with the brunette. Perhaps Ruby would be more successful than she had been. At the very least, Ruby might know to keep her negative thoughts to herself.

Ruby, it turned out, had been fielding orders all morning. There had been several orders for birthdays, some orders for anniversaries, and even a few nervous men looking for single roses for first dates by the time the shop closed that afternoon. All had come in a steady stream of visiting and all had taken their sweet time, much to Emma’s annoyance. She didn’t want to leave the man in the back to stew over her careless comments.

But her business came first, and Emma never managed to find a chance to switch off with Ruby again. The only glimpse of Killian she had managed was when he had left for the day, returning her small wave as she explained for the third time what a perennial was to the speckled teenager at the cash register. Ruby denied anything out of the ordinary as they worked their shift at Granny’s that night, but Emma could have sworn that Killian’s eyes had been red and puffy as he’d stepped out into the street.

Emma was certain that Killian wouldn’t show up the next day. Why would he? God, she’d gone and made a mess of things.

She’d already spent a good half hour worrying and mentally kicking herself before Killian finally walked into the backroom. His arrival was only a small relief to her nerves, however, and she felt a new wave of guilt rush over her when she caught sight of his wary expression. She could feel the bad news coming already.

“I, er, just came to say that I can’t stay today.”

Oh, great. She really had frightened him off yesterday. Damn. The most she could hope for would be that he would finish the boxes in private, as opposed to cancelling the entire order.

This was all her fault. She needed to make things right.

“That’s… alright,” she managed. “I get it. But I’ll still help. I want to help.”

His face scrunched with confusion. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Emma continued, gaining confidence in her words. “I know I said I don’t believe in marriage - and I still don’t - but I know how much this means to you and I want to help.”

“With… the wedding prep?”

“Yes.”

“Today?” He clarified, as though he couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“Yes, obviously.” Why couldn’t he understand that she was trying to be nice? Why was it so hard to believe that she was being sincere about helping build some stupid boxes and helping with some silly lines in a speech?

Killian stared back as if she’d just offered a marriage proposal herself. “Alright,” he began slowly, a cautious smile spreading across his handsome face. “I mean, I understand you’ll probably need to ask Ruby first, but it would be a pleasure, Swan.”

Emma blinked. A what now?

“Ask… Ruby?” She asked slowly, drawing out the words.

“Aye. I have no doubt she’ll be able to hold down the fort here for a few hours while we sample some cakes, especially being the co-owner and all, but it would still be polite to ask, don’t you think?”

Understanding didn’t so much “dawn on her” as “hit her full force like a bullet train”. Flowers, wedding speech, and cake duties? Was he the only one planning this wedding? But staring into his eager face, especially after she had all but crushed his spirits to dust the day before, Emma couldn’t find it in her to refuse.

Ruby was more enthusiastic about the sudden excursion than Emma would have liked. She’d nearly cackled when Emma had muttered about being back later, and had insisted that the pair take their time. And, of course, she’d waited for Killian to enter the room before she’d whispered a suggestion to the blond about other possible uses for frosting. Emma had dragged Killian from the shop before he could question the “oof” that Ruby wheezed out from being elbowed.

There was going to be hell to pay for later.

Emma had known that Mary Margaret owned the local designer cake shop, but she had never dared enter before. The pixie cut woman had nearly clutched her heart is shock when Emma had informed her that she never intended on getting married, and ever since then, Emma had been afraid that she would be bombarded with not-so-subtle nudges and prodding the moment she entered the shop. It was only her firm resolve to make up her blunder from the day before that kept her from bolting now, though she was unable to hide her cringe at the cheerful windchimes that sounded the moment Killian opened the door.  

The shop was about the same size as her own, with glass display cases and arrangements not unlike the ones that stood in Middlemist Flowers, but anyone who had ever met Mary Margaret could immediately sense her influence in the space. The walls were decorated floor to ceiling in framed pictures of various birds and small woodland creatures. Emma recalled hearing from the woman’s husband, David, that the couple were avid bird watchers, but she hadn’t realised exactly how far that extended. Contrasted against the dark green walls, the entire room gave the impression of being in a dense forest.

Emma lingered by the door as Killian walked up to the counter.

“I think they call that ‘hookers green’,” Killian commented, nodding toward the nearest wall. Clearly Emma hadn’t been to the only one to notice the eccentric decor.

“They do not,” Emma snorted. “I think it’s called hunter green actually.”

“Ah, that sounds better,” he admitted with a slight smirk. “This colour is actually rather close to the shade of your eyes.”

The attempt at a compliment threw her. Was he trying to be friendly now?

“Been looking at my eyes a lot?”

“Is there somewhere else you’d rather me look?” He was almost smirking at her sudden blush. Emma ignored the bait.

“No,” she said instead, “and my eyes aren’t nearly as dark as that.”

“They are when you’re upset. Or when you haven’t had your morning coffee.”  

“Let’s agree not to test that theory, shall we?”

“Killian!”

Mary Margaret’s slight frame came into view as she practically skipped around the counter toward Killian. Emma wasn’t sure she’d be surprised if a flock of doves flew out from behind her. She was truly a Disney princess come alive, that woman.

“Anna said you were coming, but you’re late - and of course, you’re never late - so I - Oh, Emma!”

Emma was enveloped in a tight hug before she even had a chance to make the last few steps to the door.

“What are you doing here?” The pixie cut girl asked as she pulled away.

Emma looked to Killian for assistance. “Er, well, Killian said he was coming to taste come cake samples for Liam and Elsa’s wedding, and I just sort of thought I’d, you know….help.”

It was a lame answer, but Mary Margaret’s eyes lit up as though she had just announced her own wedding.

“That’s so sweet! It’s always nice to have a friend help out with these sorts of things.”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” Emma clarified quickly. It was a defensive move, one that she regretted almost immediately, but the words were already out and she couldn’t take them back. “We… work together,” she finished instead.

A look of deep confusion crossed Mary Margaret’s face before it was quickly replaced by understanding and then amusement. Just as Emma was about to rush out a second half-baked explanation, the cake shop owner turned her doe eyes on Killian.

“I didn’t know you had a green thumb,” she cooed, mischief in her eyes.

Killian blushed a furious red, his hand coming up to scratch nervously behind his ear. “It’s for Liam. He asked for several dozen arrangements and I thought I’d be a gentleman and help out.”

Emma didn’t appreciate the knowing smile Mary Margaret flashed them.

“I’m in a bit of a rush,” Emma pushed, hoping Mary Margaret would get the hint and let the matter drop. “I left Ruby at the shop alone. Mind if we get started?”

The petite woman nodded and led the pair into a side room Emma hadn’t noticed before. The small, circular table was covered in cake slices, the lips of dishes overlapping each other as someone had clearly attempted to fill the tight space with as many samples as possible. It would be a miracle if she managed to walk out afterwards without several cavities and a stomach ache, Emma thought.

Killian pulled out a seat for her as they approached while Mary Margaret quickly listed off the various flavours and cake styles that were before them. Some were definitely on the more unusual end of the spectrum - orange flavoured icing was a first for Emma - but there were certainly more than a few that sounded appetizing. As it was, Emma was only really half paying attention, too busy strategizing an escape plan if the little outing started to go south. It never hurt to have a plan in place for such things.

As the cake shop owner left to give the pair some privacy, Emma reached forward and selected the plate closest to her. She took a mouthful and almost groaned in delight. It was delicious. “How did I know?”

Emma looked up in time to see Killian reaching for his own plate, a smirk already plastered on his face. ‘Know what?”  

Killian nodded at the already half eaten slice before her. “Coffee cake?”

Emma shot him a look. “Everyone has their preferences.”

“Aye, that they do,” he agreed, taking a bite of his own cake. He did groan. The sound went straight to her core.

“Swan, you have to try this one,” he moaned, handing the plate over to her.

She set it down and took a bite, her face contorting at the taste?

“Is this rum flavoured?” She coughed out. The taste of alcohol was overpowering all of her senses. It felt as though she had been thrown back to her bail bonds days, and she almost expected to look down to find herself in a little black dress.    

Killian grinned excitedly. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

Emma shook her head, grabbing a glass of water from the table to wash it down. “You can’t pick that one.”

“Why ever not?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “What wedding have you ever been to that has had rum cake?”

“Exactly! It’s unique.”

“Save it for your own wedding, Jones.”

Her tone was light and teasing, having nowhere near the accusing bite that her harsh word the day before had contained, but somehow, that was the wrong thing to say.  His face dropped immediately, his eyes turning down to the food in front of him to avoid her gaze.

“I’m afraid my own wedding cake was a simple vanilla one, Swan,” he said after a moment.

Emma’s heart dropped to her stomach. He was married? Oh, how typical. How fantastic. Of course he was married. Why wouldn’t he be? She had already established that he was handsome and kind, and it only made sense that the moment she found herself actually possibly liking him that he would be taken. This only further proved what she had known all along; Emma Swan’s life continued to be one big, cruel joke.   

It was at that moment that something occurred to her, something that made her see red. He had been hiding that bombshell the entire time, just waiting to reveal it at a later time. After he had already flirted with her. After he’d already made her feel things.

And he wasn’t wearing a ring.

“You should have told me,” she spat out, her eyes filled with rage. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you think you’re playing, but I won’t be a part of it.”

His blue eyes blew wide with shock.”Swan, I-“

She cut him off, her anger taking control. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I’m not some stupid bridesmaid that’s just going to fall into your lap for a quick-“

“Emma, stop!”

Emma fell silent, not so much because he’d asked as because she’d run out of words to say.

“I’m not married. I never was.”

It sounded like the truth, but it wasn’t enough.

“No, of course not. You just make a habit of ordering wedding cakes, do you? Or is this your gig right here,” she continued, motioning at the table between them, “inviting women out to plan dream weddings with you in hopes that they’ll fall for your stupid charms?”

“You’re not listening,” he groaned, rubbing a hand across his face.

“I don’t need to sit here and listen to you try to weasel your way out of this one. Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.”

“Bloody hell, Swan! She left me. Alright? She left me at the altar.”

Well damn, she hadn’t expected that. The blood drained from her face as she finally looked at him - really looked. He had paled as well at his own revelation, but his blue eyes were crystal clear with truth, and they were pleading for her to settle down.

“But who would -“

“Who would do that?” It was his turn to cut her off. “Someone who was already married and who didn’t have the guts to tell me until after she’d already skipped town on our wedding day.”

Emma’s eyes blew wide. “Oh.” It was all she could say.

“Aye,” he nodded, noticing her stunned silence. “She did that. And I was the man stupid enough to believe her. I believed her when she said she needed our relationship to be quiet, that her family wouldn’t approve of me. That she was brave for being with me anyways.”

He was getting worked up now, the words spilling forth like a burst dam. He’d been holding the words back for a while now, it seemed. Emma could only sit, her heart breaking in her chest, as she waited for the rest of it.

“So when I proposed, I didn’t care that she hesitated, that she finally agreed to a small ceremony, just the two of us. But I was foolish and wanted to make it perfect for her, so I ordered a cake and bought a suit and…” He took a breath to steady himself. “And word got out, and people started to talk. The morning of the wedding I went to the chapel where we’d made plans to meet Archie to marry us, but instead I found a lousy letter explaining that she was married to some pawn shop owner a few towns over and she couldn’t be with me anymore. I never saw her again.”

“What was her name?”

“Milah.”

“Milah’s a coward.”

Killian let out a half laugh, looking stunned now too. “What?”

Emma shrugged, regaining her composure. “People get tricked all the time by pretty faces. It’s not your fault you fell for it. She’s the coward and the one who should feel ashamed.”

“I very much doubt she does,” he muttered.

“They never do.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Speaking from experience, are you?”

“The man I always thought I’d marry set me up for a robbery and left me to rot in jail.”

It was a tough admission, and a topic that she had avoided discussing with anyone for years now, but it felt right to say it. Besides, it was almost worth the onslaught of bad memories just to see Killian’s jaw drop to the floor.

“What?” He breathed, his face crumpled in anger and disbelief.

“It was a long time ago,” she pointed out, “but yeah. I didn’t have the most traditional of upbringings and had to fend for myself at a young age. We were street thieves in Boston together when I was a teenager and I fell for him. I thought he liked me back but then there was a close call with a bag of stolen watches and he turned me in to cover his own ass.”

“What’s his name,” Killian nearly demanded, his eyes dark. Somehow Emma was certain that he wasn’t looking for the answer simply to call him a coward too.

“Neal Cassidy, and before you get any ideas,” Emma hurried, almost certain she could see Killian committing the name to memory for later, “it’s already taken care of.”

“Like hell it is.”

Damn, why was his eagerness to defend her honour so hot? Still, Emma thought she’d better clear things up before Killian offered to track Neal down himself and challenge him to a duel to the death.

“Trust me, it is. I took care of it myself.”

She could tell he was unconvinced, the anger at her slight burning in his eyes.

“When I got out of jail I got a job as a bail bonds woman,” she continued. “It was the only job I could get but I was damn good at it. I went on a lot of bad dates, tracked down a lot of skeevy guys, and hauled a lot of sorry asses out of some really nasty places.”

Killian’s face remained stoney. Of course that part of the story wouldn’t have offered much reassurance, she supposed. She’d have to try again.

“Anyways, one day I got a job from this woman named Tamara. Apparently her fiancée had skipped bail and had taken a bunch of her money in the process. I agreed to track him down for her and make sure she got everything she was owed.”

“It was Neal. Wasn’t it?” He was ahead of her.

“Mhm, but he’d changed his last name to Baelfire, so I didn’t know until I literally ran into him while I was chasing him down. I think I scared the crap outta him.”

“No doubt you did,” he agreed. “Did you get him?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Please tell me you weren’t gentle.”

“I may have been a bit rough,” Emma admitted.

“How did it feel?”

Emma smiled despite herself. “Damn good.”

Killian’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Well then, Swan. It looks like we make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“I guess we do.” Emma raised her water glass to him in toast. “A toast; to terrible romances.”

Killian picked up his own glass and clinked it against hers. “To new beginnings.”

The click of heels against the tile floor signalled the return of the shop owner.

“Have you decided?” Mary Margaret asked, eyeing the barely touched plates with a slight frown.

“Aye,” Killian announced, removing his napkin from his lap. “I think we’ll go with the coffee one.”

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are.. are you sure? You haven’t even tried the rest.”

“I’m certain, Swan,” he reassured her. “Elsa made it clear that she wanted something non traditional and my brother made it clear that Elsa was to get whatever she wanted. And it seems you two share a passion for coffee, so I will defer to your expert judgment on this one.”

Emma nearly flushed. “You don’t need to do that, but okay.”

It was almost irritating how excited Mary Margaret looked. “Oh, wonderful!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Perfect choice! I know Elsa will love it.”

Ordering a cake for a wedding was not as easy as only choosing the cake flavours, Emma soon discovered. There was the matter of size, shape, icing, delivery time. With every new piece of information that Mary Margaret asked for, Emma felt herself becoming less and less interested in the process. She considered bailing when the shop owner brought out an array of cake toppers for Killian to inspect, but judging by how Killian’s face also dropped at the sight, she figured he needed the support. It couldn’t be easy to pick out the wedding cake for someone else when his own wedding plans had gone so terribly wrong. It made her wonder what Liam could have possibly said to him to get him to agree to take on so much of the wedding planning.

Maybe it was pity that had Emma agreeing to accompany him on his errand the next day regarding catering. After all, Emma had an “in” with the owner, and it only made sense that Killian would want her present when he informed Granny that Liam and Elsa would be adding an extra dozen people to the guest list. Granny had thrown her hands in the air and exclaimed that it couldn’t possibly be done on such short notice, but between the two of them, they won her over. “Alright,” the grey haired woman sniffed finally. “But I don’t care what kind of winter theme they’re having, I’m still not letting Kristoff bring his reindeer anywhere near my food!”

Going to meet the wedding photographer with Killian a few days later had only been because the flower shop had had a slow morning and the pair had grown tired of working with boxes for the day. Besides, the man that Liam and Elsa had chosen to hire was Sidney Glass, the chief editor and photographer for the town’s local newspaper, and if Emma could convince him to run a short piece about Middlemist Flowers in his next issue, it would only help drum up business. So really, that errand was work related.

Ruby’s knowing smile seemed to be becoming a permanent feature of hers when, two weeks later, Emma announced that she would need another afternoon off to help Killian make final preparations for the reception hall. Emma couldn’t say exactly why she felt compelled to assist him with that errand, other than the fact that she had already accompanied him on the other excursions and it seemed like the right thing to do. Liam had clearly overloaded his brother with wedding preparations, and it didn’t seem fair to leave him to balance everything himself.

The sun had dropped behind the horizon by the time they left the hall, leaving the small town in shadows and bringing a slight chill to the air. The niping wind made Emma regret not having grabbed her jacket when she’d left the shop that morning, but she hadn’t anticipated being out so long. She considered for a moment going to get it, but Ruby had likely already closed up shop and she didn’t want the struggle of resetting the security alarms. She would just have to cross her arms over her chest and hope that her teeth didn’t begin to chatter before she made it back to her car.

Noticing her discomfort, Killian immediately began stripping off his own leather jacket, getting ready to hand it over to her.

“I’m good,” Emma protested. “You keep it.”

“Nonsense. You’re freezing.”

“You will be too if you don’t wear it. And you live in the opposite direction.”

Killian shrugged, holding out the black leather to her. “It’s a nice night. I don’t mind walking you back.”

“I don’t need an escort.”

“Bloody hell, Swan. Just take the jacket.” Killian groaned, rolling his eyes.

Fine, then. If he wanted to be cold then he could be.

She slipped her arms into the sleeves, readjusting the heavy fabric as it came up across her shoulders. Immediately, the warmth began to seep back into her bones. Maybe she had been a bit colder than she had let on.

Killian looked pleased as she mumbled out a simple “thank you”. She still wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t catch his death in the ten minutes or so that they’d be walking to the flower shop parking lot, but she somehow knew that bringing up the fact that he had been suffering from on and off colds for days now wouldn’t do any good. Though, she had noticed that his nose was less red and his eyes a little more clear today. Maybe the fresh air and walk outside was doing him some good.

Maybe it was doing Emma some good too.

It was difficult to admit - and certainly not something that she would admit to him - but spending her days with Killian over the past few weeks wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d feared. Even with all the wedding planning. He was kind and helpful, and maybe a bit quiet at first, but she had quickly learned that he had a flirtatious side too. She hadn’t failed to notice the way his eyes had lingered on her lips as she’d sipped her morning coffee the other day, or the scandalizing look he’d given her the day she’d complained offhand about how hot her sweater was. It was a far cry from the men she had been around before her arrival to Storybrooke. Then again, she’d never really enjoyed any time she’d spent with any of them, and she certainly hadn’t told any of them about Neal.

There was something different about Killian, something that had her eying the sky high walls she had built around herself and wondering what it might be like to peer over the other side.

Emma was so lost in thought, wrestling with a decision that she couldn’t quite put words to, when Killian’s voice broke the silence.

“How did you become a florist?”

Emma frowned, the question catching her off guard. “What?”

“You said that you used to be a bail bonds person,” he reminded her. “How did you go from that to being a florist?”

Emma gave a one shoulder shrug, the buttery leather wrinkling at the movement. “After finding Neal again, I guess tracking down scumbags wasn’t what I wanted to do anymore. I was still friends with the woman who ran the halfway house I was placed in after I was released, and she suggested that I work in her sister’s flower shop. I used to help Ingrid around the shop to kill time between assignments anyways, and I guess she thought I was good enough to work for her.”

“She was right,” Killian said with a smile.

“I hope so,” Emma admitted. “Ingrid’s other sister fell sick with pneumonia while she was skiing in the Alps, so Ingrid was always away visiting her. I basically ran the shop myself most days.”

“I take it the sisters were close?”

“Very. Ingrid finally decided to stay in Denmark permanently so that she could be with her sister, and she gave me permission to sell the shop. She gave me a good portion of the profits to start a new shop wherever I liked. I found a good lease here, and I guess the rest is history.”

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the journey, Swan,” Killian said, as they turned the corner into the story parking lot. “Would it be very selfish of me to say that I’m pleased that you decided to find your home here?”

“Hey, I never said that Storybrooke was my home,” Emma pointed out.

Killian furrowed his brow. “What more are you looking for?”

Well, wasn’t that a loaded question.

“I guess...,” Emma started, trying to find her words. “Home is supposed to be the place where, when you leave, you just miss it.”

“Sounds lonely,” Killian noted.

“Maybe,” Emma conceded, “but it’s what I’ve always done, and it’s what works for me. Why ruin a good thing, you know?”

Killian took a step closer, his face nearly unreadable. Nearly.

“I used to believe the same,” he confessed lowly, his words tinged with a hint of nervousness. “Until I met you.”

Emma felt her breath catch. What was she supposed to say to that?

Her mind was whirling and she could feel the nerves and doubts creeping into her heart. She hadn’t had enough time to consider any of this yet. She’d only known him for a matter of weeks, and most of their hangouts had been in her own shop, as employees. Or volunteers. Or whatever. They weren’t romantically involved. Yet? Maybe a date with Killian wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Hadn’t she already been half way considering it just minutes before? Hadn’t she? Since when was asking a man out for coffee such a difficult task?

Oh God, she needed to say something.

“Killian, I …” She trailed off, feeling her mouth go dry. “I just wanted to thank you.”

Well, that hadn’t been what she had meant to say. Killian stood silently, clearly confused.

“For your help with the boxes,” she clarified, mentally kicking at the wall she could feel rising in her mind. “I couldn’t have done this with you.”

He smiled, though there was a hint of disappointment behind it. His eyes seemed slightly less blue than they had just been. “Of course, Swan. As I said before, we make quite the team.”

And then he was walking away, wishing her a good night and promising to see her first thing in the morning. Emma waited until his retreating form had disappeared from view down the adjacent street before giving a swift, frustrated kick to her bug’s tire.

“Well, what do you think?”

Emma looked up from where she was huddled over a semi-constructed box and nearly gasped at the sight in front of her.

Killian was dressed head to toe in a black tuxedo, his hair brushed properly to the side, his leather shoes shiny. The crystal blue cufflinks at the edge of his wrists matched almost perfectly to his piercing blue eyes, Emma thought. He’d never looked so good.

“You look…” Emma’s thoughts trailed off as she tried to find a word less salacious than ‘delicious’.

Killian, sensing her loss for words, smirked proudly. “I know.”

Emma rolled her eyes, mainly to break her gaze away from the man before him before she bore a hole in his suit.

“I was going to say you look decent,” Emma clarified.

“A true compliment! I must have caught you after your first cup of coffee, have I?” He teased, pulling back a chair to join her at the counter.

The boxes had been coming along well over the past few weeks. Even though the back room looked like a complete disaster zone, Emma was sure they would be able to complete the last of the order by the weekend. And Killian was partially right; the addition of the new coffee maker Killian had lugged in the morning after her old one had finally kicked the bucket had done wonders for both her mood and productivity. If he hadn’t called in announcing that he would be late coming in this morning, Emma was sure he would have met her at the door with a steaming cup, just as he always did. Emma thought he was crazy for being such an early riser, but she could keep that to herself if it meant caffeine first thing in the morning.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, as Killian reached for the half finished box he hadn’t had time to complete the day before.

“Helping.”

“But you’re dressed up!”

“Very astute observation, Swan,” Killian teased again, pulling his set of tools toward him.

Emma made a face. “You can’t go messing up your suit when we actually found something that looks remotely good on you.”

“Two compliments in the same day? It really must be my lucky day.”

“At least take off the jacket,” Emma insisted, earning her an exaggerated huff. Still, a moment later the jacket was removed and delicately placed on the cleanest corner of the workbench. The slim legged suit pants he was wearing would likely be wrinkled by the end of the day, but at least he had elected to go with a simple blue shirt underneath.

“I wore this today to garner your approval before the wedding on Saturday,” Killian explained, as he settled back into his seat. “I’m being proactive.”

“Exactly,” Emma countered. “If you ruin this one, you only have two days to find another one. And since when does my approval mean anything to you?”

Emma was surprised to see Killian reach up to scratch behind his ear. It was an obvious nervous tick that she had come to associate with him, though she couldn’t imagine what could have spurned it. “I didn’t say that it did,” he replied lamely.  

“You did,” Emma countered, “just then.”

“You’re sorely mistaken. I simply implied that you might like to see what I was wearing for Saturday.”

“Because…?” Emma pressed. She would get the truth one way or another.

Killian was flushing now. He was definitely up to something. “Well, because, Emma, I have another favour to ask you.”

There it was.

Killian must have seen the look of hesitation on her face, because he immediately reached out to place a reassuring hand on hers. How was he to know that it was having the exact opposite effect?

“I was wondering if you’d care to be my date for my brother’s wedding.”

Emma’s heart was thrumming so loudly in her chest that she almost didn’t hear her own response. “Your date?”

“Well, not a date-date, but… as my date.”

Emma deflated. “Oh.”

“I figured that you’re putting all that effort to make the arrangements for me, and you’ve been a great help with the rest of the wedding preparations, so you might as well come to see the fruits of your labours.”

“Yes, I might as well,” she muttered, not quite sure why her mood had soured.

Killian must have sensed the change in mood. “Of course, you don’t have to. I understand if it’s too last minute, or if -”

“No, no,” Emma added quickly. “I’d love to. I guess I should see how the bride and groom like my arrangements.”

“Okay.” Killian seemed unconvinced. “I can pick you up at one o’clock?”

Emma’s smile felt forced, even to her. “Sure.”

They finished the boxes they had planned for the day, plus a few extra, leaving only a small handful left to complete the next day. Killian wouldn’t be able to come in to complete them - he had the rehearsal dinner to attend in the evening and one last errand to run before then - but Ruby had agreed to step in to help out.

It wasn’t a big deal that she’d been invited to the wedding last minute. She had been invited - as a courtesy - and she had graciously accepted. So Emma really couldn’t understand why Ruby felt the need to rush through the last few boxes so that her business partner would have time to go home and pick out an outfit for the next day, especially when she should have been supervising the incoming shipment of flower arrangements that Gus had finally received. Still, Emma felt herself being almost shoved out of the doors to her own shop when the clock struck five on Friday.

To get ready for her “not a date” to a wedding that -  if you asked Emma - she really had no business attending.

It took two cups of coffee the next morning before she could even contemplate getting dressed. She’d already tried on the red dress the night before and had determined it at least fit, but she was still undecided on whether it was really appropriate for a wedding scene. All of the dresses she owned had been bought with the intention of luring in skeevy bail jumpers, and some were stained from where an angry date had spilled wine on it in their rush to flee. She should probably have tossed them all out on moving day, she thought, eyeing the sorry looking pile.

Sighing, she removed the overly fitted dress and walked over in the next room to Ruby’s closet. Most of her dresses were just as short, but she found one that looked as though it would do the trick. Pulling it on, Emma moved to stand in front of the standing mirror in the corner. It fit perfectly, and though it wasn’t quite as long as Emma might have liked, the long sleeves and delicate floral colours splashed over the dark fabric were tasteful. She could work with this.

She’d just finished the last of her hair and makeup when the doorbell rang, signalling Killian’s arrival. Emma grabbed her purse and slipped on her only pair of nude pumps and swung open the door.

He was wearing the same suit as he’d worn to the shop, but he’d added a black tie and light blue pocket square to the ensemble. He’d also exchanged the wrinkled white shirt from earlier with a freshly pressed one. Someone had clearly taken extra care in making sure Killian was suitably dressed for the occasion. He was even wearing the pale blue elephant she’d made for each groomsman.

Killian’s eyes lit up as he took in her form.

“Swan, you look…”

“I know,” Emma quipped, echoing his response from before. Killian didn’t seem to notice, his eyes soft.

“Killian?”

“Yes?”

“You did bring the invitations, right?”

“What? Oh! Yes.” Killian fumbled around in his jacket pocket for a moment until he produced two blue and white invitations. He handed one to Emma just as she finished locking the door behind her.

The entire town seemed to have come out to see Liam and Elsa be married, and it was slow moving through the thick line of cars filling the street that led to the church. Killian had turned on the radio of his rusted red pick up, but Emma was far too nervous to pay attention to the music. Killian was humming along as the woman sang, his deep voice almost enough to soothe her nerves. They had left in plenty of time, sure,  but Emma still worried that Killian was shirking his duties as best man by being tied up in traffic with the wedding florist. It was only after Killian had reassured her for the millionth time that David had been assigned chaperone duties for the groom that morning, and that he wouldn’t be needed until later, that she finally began to relax.

They made it to the small church with more than enough time to spare, though that did not stop Mary Margaret from immediately rushing over and practically hauling Killian out of the driver’s seat to shove him in the direction of the doors that led to the room reserved for the groomsmen. Before Emma had a chance to mourn the loss of her only tie to the event, she felt herself be dragged by the elbow toward another set of doors leading to the chapel. Mary Margaret was surprisingly strong for being so petite.

The chapel was small, but well lit by the sunlight passing through the stain glass windows. The minister, Archie, was stood by the front, conversing with groomsmen who had been ushered in just moments before. Emma recognized her own flower arrangements along the walls and aisle, the vibrant blues and whites standing out proudly in their little wooden boxes. Ruby and Gus had woken up in the early hours of the morning to ensure that everything would be prepared properly for the big day. She had felt guilty for not being there to help, but by the way that her colleague was cozied up in the corner with her delivery man, Emma thought Ruby hadn’t minded their time alone.

It was a small relief that Emma found herself being directed toward a seat between Mary Margaret herself and Marco, the local carpenter. It would be a while before the actual ceremony would start, but her ever social seatmate made sure to fill the empty time by introducing Emma to everyone around them. How they had managed to fit so many people into the small room, Emma had no idea, but in a matter of minutes, the number of people Emma could put a name to a face to had tripled. Emma was relieved to find that she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t brought along a romantic date to the event; Marco had brought along his son, August, and the local hat maker, Jefferson, had brought along his daughter, Grace. The little girl sat just off to the side, tall and poised in her flower girl dress as she waited for her instructions from the bridesmaids that were lingering by the door.

The woman three seats over was Regina, who had had to wrestle her eleven year old into a bow tie that morning and had spent every moment since adjusting it. Despite having ordered the removal of her shop sign, the mayor didn’t show any indication that she recognized the florist seated near her, which suited Emma just fine. There was no reason to start an argument with the evil queen in the middle of a wedding.

Her son, however, didn’t seem to have a malicious bone in his body, and was happy to chat with Emma about anything and everything. The boy confided in her a few minutes later, when his mother’s back was turned, that he’d only agreed to wear the bow tie so that his mother would be less upset later when he revealed he was wearing his stormtroopers shirt underneath his suit. Emma shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that all the boys in the wedding party had agreed to do the same, and that Killian had been the mastermind behind that scheme. As a woman, Emma had been sworn to secrecy about “Operation Jedi”, of course. His mother had turned back just in time to catch the conniving smile on her son’s face, but before she could question it, the music began.

The ceremony was beautiful. Elsa looked like a nordic princess straight out of a fairy tale book, the sequins and beads sewn into her long dress shimmering in the light. Liam was beaming as he watched his soon-to-be wife make her way down the aisle that Grace had adorned with petals only moments earlier, his expression nearly giddy. By chance, Emma found herself catching Killian’s eye from where he stood next to David, and he immediately pulled a face of exasperation at his brother’s puppy eyes. Emma had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing. He continued sneaking glances at her for the rest of the ceremony, only fully focusing again as the bride and groom finished exchanging their vows. The room filled with cheers and applause as the couple kissed as newlyweds for the first time, and before Emma knew it, the ceremony was over.

Emma felt a surge of pride at seeing the rest of her arrangements decorating the tables of the reception hall. Killian had been right; it was a great privilege to see their weeks of hard work come to fruition. Mary Margaret excused herself after a few minutes, leaving to find her husband as the groomsmen began to slowly make their way into the room. Emma lingered awkwardly by the snack table, contemplating how many cups of punch she could get away with serving herself before someone might notice her stalling.

“Ah, Emma! There you are.”

Killian nearly made her jump as he came up behind her.

“What did you think of the ceremony?” He asked, beaming. Maybe it was the romantic atmosphere, or simply the lingering joy at having her weeks of hard work displayed so prominently for everyone to see, but Emma found herself grinning back.

“It was beautiful,” she replied. Gesturing to the displays around the room, she added, “I think our hard work paid off, don’t you?”

“Aye, I believe it did,” he agreed proudly. “This way, Swan. Time to give our well wishes to the happy couple.”

Emma followed him as he weaved through the growing crowd of people, pausing only momentarily to wait each time a hand came out to clap Killian on the shoulder in greeting as they passed. Killian would exchange a quick greeting with them, blushing when the women complimented him on his suit, before politely excusing himself to continue the search for his brother. It was strange to see him like this, Emma thought. It had taken far longer for him to warm up to her.

Liam and Elsa were standing near the spectacular, multi-tiered wedding cake that Mary Margaret had prepared, looking just as smitten as they had the entire morning. Liam nodded at his brother as he noticed the pair approaching, before leaning down to whisper something in his new wife’s ear. Elsa’s gaze immediately fell on Emma, a suspicious twinkle filling her eyes. Emma tried not to squirm. She only hoped Killian hadn’t let on that she had been the one to suggest the flavour of their wedding cake.

“My little brother!” Liam exclaimed as they neared. “I’d wondered where you’d run off to.”

“I think you mean ‘younger’ brother,” Killian corrected.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Emma,” Elsa said, moving to place a kiss on each of Emma’s cheeks.

“You too,” Emma replied politely, pulling back. “Congratulations to you both!”

“Thank you!”

“Yes, and thank you so much for all of your help organizing this all for us,” Liam added. “You did a wonderful job.”

“It was nothing,” Emma replied awkwardly, unused to such praise.

“Nonsense! It means the world to us both,” Liam insisted. “Now, I think it might be time for some pictures of the Jones boys, don’t you think?”

Liam and Killian moved off to hail down Sidney, who was just finishing up a set of shots of the bridesmaids. Emma watched as the men positioned themselves in front of one of the larger floral displays Emma had created, the blues in the flowers matching perfectly with the blue accessories each were sporting.

“Your arrangements are absolutely gorgeous,” Elsa noted, pulling Emma’s attention away from the groom and best man.

“Killian helped do a lot of it. He designed the boxes for them.”

“Yes, funny, that,” Elsa commented, looking out at the man in question as he pulled a face for the camera. “I was surprised that he was so eager to help with the flower arrangements.”

“How so?”

“Didn’t you know?” Elsa continued, her smile knowing, even as Emma frowned in confusion. “Oh, Killian’s dreadfully allergic to flowers.”

Emma’s jaw nearly dropped. “What?” She asked, before she could stop herself.

“Oh yes,” Elsa explained, her grin widening. “Anything with pollen just makes him tear right up and gives him the worst sniffles. Liam jokes that that’s why he chose to work out on the seas. No ‘bloody plants’ to deal with.”

Emma could feel the facts clicking into place in her mind as realisation dawned on her.

That little-

“Would you excuse me for just one moment?” Emma asked politely, plastering her own smile across her face. It was nothing near the giddy grin that Elsa had - a very Ruby-like grin, Emma thought - but it would have to do. “I need to go have a word with your best man.”  

Emma brushed through the crowd, making her way toward Killian just as he and his brother were finishing up their shoot. A moment later, the music that had been playing in the background began to taper off and David was summoning over a microphone for the bride and groom to prepare for their first dance together.

“That’s my cue,” Emma heard Liam say as he left in search of his wife. Killian nodded at his brother before turning to face her.

“Ready the show?”

Emma cherished the look of surprise on his face as she held out her elbow for him to take. “Absolutely.”

They found a spot around the edge of the dancefloor and watched as the newlyweds took their place in the center. The music began, a dreamy melody that Emma was sure would put even the darkest of souls into a wondrous trance. The pair swayed as they clutched to each other, barely seeming to notice the room of onlookers. Combined with the soft light of the chandelier above, and the delicate jewels twinkling and dancing along the white satin dress, it was a scene that could put any fairy tale movie to shame.

Emma looked up to see Killian gazing at his brother with pride.

“Elsa wanted me to thank you for your help with the arrangements,” Emma murmured to him.

“It was nothing,” Killian replied, echoing her words from earlier. His eyes hadn’t moved from his brother.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Emma corrected. “Especially with your allergies, and all.”

Killian’s gaze snapped to hers, and Emma had to stop herself from laughing as his eyes blew wide.

“She told you?”

“Yes, she did. But it should have been you,” she scolded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

A deep flush crawled up his neck as he raised a hand to scratch behind his ear.

“I didn’t know how else to garner your attention,” he admitted. “I wanted to make an impression.”

“Why?” It was a stupid question, but it slipped out.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” He asked, his eyes tender. “I wanted to ask you out.”

It was Emma’s turn to look surprised.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?!”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react!”

“Oh my god,” Emma murmured, her heart feeling lighter despite her exasperation. “But you didn’t even talk to me before, at Mary Margaret’s party!”

Killian shrugged. “I was nervous! I would have asked for your number then and there, but the opportunity never presented itself. So I improvised.”

“By showing up everyday and having an allergy attack?”

“To be fair, it seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Men.

They were interrupted by a round of applause from the crowd, signalling the end of the first dance. Almost as soon as the song petered out, a new song began, this one faster and lighter. Emma felt Killian take her hand in his, and a moment later he was pulling her on to the dance floor. They danced and twirled, while Emma did her best to avoid spearing his foot with her high heels. Killian was likely a better dancer than he was letting on, but he kept breaking off to throw in some truly ridiculous moves to get a laugh from her. And damn, if Emma hadn’t burst into a fit of giggles when he attempted to moonwalk and walked backward into Granny.

Eventually the music settled back into a slower song, and Emma and Killian fell into a languid sway with each other. The song, Emma recognized, was the same one from the radio earlier on, the one that Killian had been humming. Listening to the lyrics now, it was clearly a love song.

And I know,

The scariest part is letting go,

Let my love be the light that guides you home.

“Swan?” Killian asked, his voice low against her ear. “Would you do me the absolute honour of going out on date with me?”

Emma hummed dramatically, pretending to think about her answer, drawing it out.

“Yes,” she finally said,  

“Just no flowers, aye?”

“Fair enough,” Emma laughed.

As promised, there were no flowers present at their first date. Or their second, for that matter. There were, however, flowers at their own wedding two years later, but that had been firmly at Killian’s insistence. It was a reminder of how they had met, Killian argued, and who was Emma to disagree when it meant that her soon-to-be-husband would join her again in the back room of her little shop, making little boxes that would accompany their own arrangements. Besides, Emma couldn’t very well argue against sentimentality, when she had been the one to choose their rum flavoured wedding cake.

Well, half rum; the other half was coffee, of course.

- Fin -