on screen [CS&COLIFER]

vi. library [captain swan]

she is small.

not exaggeratingly small, but small enough. small enough to barely graze the books atop the highest shelf with her fingertips.

the first he sees her, he hears her beforehand.

he is sitting in a loveseat, placed at the end of the row she currently occupies, and he is unaware of her. until, a heavy book falls from the top shelf, and she hardly manages to hold it inbetween her hands to prevent a thunderous sound as it strikes the ground. she curses, loudly, at the librarian for putting this "damned book on an effing shelf as high as everest."

he peered at her as she unceromoniously places it on the floor. she sits with her legs criss-crossed, back to him, and opens up to the first page. he doesn't see her face, but her golden mane is enough because he feels as if he has been sun-kissed. she hums and he goes back to his studies.

the second time, she strolls in lightly. he is sat in the same loveseat, and she waltzes past him, her golden halo revealing her. his gaze stays on her, as she reaches, again for the same sturdy book. she curses, the librarian again, of course (but this time because there's no damned stool). before he has even thought it through, he is walking towards her, and reaching for the book she is struggling with.

he pretends not to be aware of her body tucked against his. she turns to him with a dazzling smile, confusion clouding one fourth of her eyes (green, moss green, and forest green, and his favorite jolly rancher green and green green green) and gods, she is beautiful. complete wih a peculiar button nose.

he sets the book in her hands, and watches as she struggles with it, (an atlas, it's an atlas of europe) (he wonders), and watches as she sets it on the ground again. she sits, again, and looks up at him through her eyelashes.

"thank you."

the words get caught in his throat. he smiles, and moves to sit back in his loveseat.

-

it becomes a ritual. she is at the library wednesdays, thursdays, and fridays.

she never strays from the geography, and he has seen her open at atlas, and atlas, again.

he picks them off the highest shelf for her day and day, again.

(she taps his shoulder on the sixth day, shyly, and when he stands, she grabs his hand. he pretends his heart doesn't begin to race. she leads him to the second row and points to a hefty atlas of south america. she murmurs a please, as she looks at him doe-eyed. his heart swells a little and he nods. he places the book on the floor as she murmurs a thank you this time. tugging sleeves, and tapping shoulders becomes her new way of communicating.)

days have passed, weeks, and he can't hide his dissapointment when a small hand does not tug at his sleeve or poke at him (she'd once poked his dimple, when he'd been replying to a hilarious text from robin, and his dimple had only deepened at the action).
he walks through the geography section and finds her in the third row, sitting criss crossed, without an atlas, but with a laptop. she looks up and grins at him, as she pats the spot beside her. her eyes are alight and he can't refuse her.

she turns animatedly to him. "are you irish, killian?"

and he's puzzled because he's said little to her, and certainly never mentioned his name, but he answers anyway because she has a sense of awe twinkling in her eyes, as if she's unconvered the greatest treasure of all.

"i am indeed, lass."

"i knew it!" her smile widens and he's never been happier about his lilting accent.

he turns to her, "and how would you know?"

she blushes, and fidgets. "i asked belle. (the librarian she often curses.) she said you were an exchange student, and your card login said your name. you talk to yourself, too. not hard to pinpoint the accent." she laughs, lightly, but avoids his gaze.

he's in awe at her curiosity (and should probably be creeped out) but she looks nervous as it is.

"well if you know my name, i suppose it's only fair i know of the blonde beauty's who has taken it upon herself to research me," he teases. and she sees her freeze up slightly, but his smile is reassuring enough, he guesses, and she smiles back.

"emma swan." she stretches out her hand to him, and her palm is soft.

they're silent for a minute, and then she glances up at him. "can you tell me about it? ireland, i mean."

he nods and launches into tales of green land. somehow he ends up talking of liam but emma doesn't mind, and as she slightly leans into his shoulder, he does not mind either.

-

they sit on the floor now, and killian studies while emma researches places, and customs, and people, and the world. she often relates this to him, and although he doesn't really care for siestas or the world's largest monument, the joy in her eyes is enough.

sometimes, he looks at what she is reading, and recognizes the place, and relates this to her and they talk and talk and talk of countries, and the grey in between.

sometimes, she is tired, and so she closes the laptop, or atlas (she's almost run out), and lays her head on killian's lap. she twirls his ring finger often, and he often twirls strands of her hair. she hums, and sometimes, falls asleep. sometimes she peers at his homework (she's particularly good at geography and historical events and he wonders why) (execpt he doesn't because its obvious) and mutters an answer.

-

they don't know how they came to be.

and emma is not happy.

"why was i not aware we were dating?" she stomps her foot as she comes to plop herself next to him.

"sorry, love, what?"

"why was i not aware we were dating? everyone appears to believe it and ruby flat out laughed in my face at the prospect that i didn't know! i can't believe you didn't tell me!"

killian laughs, heartily, and loud, because she's adorable and her expression is as laughable as the situation.

"jerk," she huffs.

he is still laughing when he pulls her onto his lap. "i'm sorry," he says in between his fits of laughter, "perhaps an apology is in order?" he wiggles his eyebrows.

"you couldn't handle it," she teases.

"perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it." he says haughtily.

she grabs him and crashes his lips to hers.

-

he brings atlases home (home is a white pickett fence house in the quaint town of storybrooke) and builds her a bookshelf about his height.

he places them on the highest shelf just to piss her off.

[a/n

short && sweet amigos]