TITLE: "Bubbly"
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time
GENRE: Romance/Fluff/Humor
PAIRING: Captain/Swan
RATING: M for sexy talk, but not too graphic
COMMENTS: Takes place in a slightly AU time in Storybrooke as if Pan's curse had never happened. Probably a one-shot unless the muse tells me otherwise
DISCLAIMER: Not mine
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He sat slouched in a chair in his cabin on the Jolly Roger draining the last drops of rum from his flask and sinking deeper into his melancholy.
It was New Year's Eve in Storybrooke, and there was a party at Granny's to celebrate Henry's return and their victory over Pan. He had gone hoping to see Emma. He had barely seen her since their return from Neverland several weeks earlier, and when he did see her, they would exchange polite greetings and then she would inevitably find somewhere else she needed to be.
She was avoiding him, of course, and it left him feeling frustrated and out of sorts. But if there was any consolation, it was in the inkling that she was avoiding him because their kiss in Neverland had meant more to her than she was letting on.
He had hoped to talk to her at Granny's. The party was already in full swing when he arrived, and the noise and the light hit him full force when he pushed open the door. She was there, standing in the middle of a crowd with a glass of champagne in her hand. She saw him and smiled at him cautiously with a light wave of her hand. He thought for a moment that she might be heading his way, but then someone had intercepted her and regaled her with some story. He had never even gotten close to her but had spent most of the evening pressed into a corner booth raising a pint or two with Leroy.
And then there was Neal. He watched them from across the room chatting amicably together at one point. And why not? They shared a child. Why wouldn't they be friendly? Then the music on Granny's jukebox had switched over to one of those slow, sentimental songs the people in this realm seemed to like so much. She laughed as he took her hand and twirled her under his arm once. It probably meant nothing, but he wasn't about to sit there mooning after her like some lovesick schoolboy. He finished the last of his pint and skulked home to the ship long before midnight.
He could hear the town clock now chime twelve, and he raised his near-empty flask. "Happy New Year," he said to no one in particular and took a final slug.
There was a noise from above him on deck, and he instinctively grabbed a dagger from his writing desk.
"Who's there?" he said in a rough whisper and flung the door of his cabin open.
`She was standing there, barefoot, with the straps of her shoes looped around the fingers of one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.
"Swan…" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Happy New Year to you, too," she slurred with light sarcasm. She raised her eyebrow at the dagger in his hand, and he turned to drop it on the table.
"Sorry. I assumed you'd be at Granny's."
"You left. You thought you could sneak out without anyone noticing. So, I brought the party to you." She held up the open bottle of champagne with a mischievous smile. "Are you going to let me in or what?"
After a beat, he stepped aside and let her pass. He couldn't quite process how he felt about this. Here she was in a siren red dress that plunged to a "v" just at the rise of her breasts. She'd been drinking, too, he noticed. Quite a bit by the looks of it, and she had that that slurry, fizzy tipsiness that champagne gives you. Even without shoes, she wobbled unevenly for a moment just as the ship rolled beneath them. Despite the good fortune of having her alone on his ship, he had the uneasy feeling this could all go very wrong.
"You're drunk, Swan."
She held up her index finger and thumb a half inch apart. "Juzzzt a little."
She toppled forward with a startled cry. He caught her by the arm and righted her, taking the bottle and putting it safely on the table. He watched as she took several unsteady strides inside his cabin and then turned to face him.
"I've been thinking, Hook."
He waited a beat before answering, not entirely sure she he was prepared to hear the answer. "About what?"
"Well," she started slowly, drawing the word out. "The last two years have been…busy. To say the least. Difficult. Henry finding me. Coming to Storybrooke. Meeting my parents. Basically having my entire world turned upside down."
He nodded sympathetically. He came from a realm with magic, but he could only imagine how the revelations of the past several years had rocked her foundations. She laughed an unconvincing ripple of a laugh. Her face darkened for a moment, and then she smiled naughtily.
"Well, sometimes, a girl needs to blow off some steam. I've earned it. You know what they say. All work, and no play…"
He couldn't move as she took a step closer and put a hand on the center of his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart beating underneath it.
"I've been thinking about you and me, too."
"You have, have you?" His voice was rough.
"Uh huh. And I've been thinking it's about time I had a little fun."
"Fun? Is that what I am? What this is? Fun?"
"Maybe," she said teasingly and circled her arms around his neck. He reached up and pried them gently off. Her face fell in confusion.
"Don't you want me?"
"Not like this, Emma."
"But I thought you…we were…" she stammered. "I thought you wanted…"
"You and I both know that if you were anything approaching sober, you wouldn't be here right now. So I have two choices. I could send you home with a chaste kiss good night or I could take you into my bed. Either way, I'd hate myself in the morning." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss in the center of her forehead. "No sense in having you hate me, too."
He placed his hand on her upper arm and tried to steer her gently to the door, but she pulled free of his grip.
"Wait a minute. Now you're being a gentleman?"
"I'm always a gentleman." He tried again to lead her to the door with a hand on the small of her back, but she moved away from him and turned to him accusingly.
"You know what it is? I think you're scared. You talk a big talk about being irresistible to women, but when it comes down it, it's just that. Talk."
She stood breathlessly in front of him, giving him an angry, reproachful look. She was speaking out of hurt and embarrassment, all of it filtered through too much champagne. He went on in soft but firm tones.
"Scared? Well that much is true, Swan. But perhaps you're the one that's scared. You're scared to admit how you really feel. Scared to admit what you really want. So you drink yourself legless and come here pretending that all you want is some meaningless tryst."
She pressed her mouth into a colorless line, and he knew he had hit close to home. But then she tossed her head and waved her arms in front of him.
"I don't believe this. You're turning me down? All the…flirting and the looks and the double entendres, and now you're telling me you don't want to have sex with me?"
"No, I don't want to have sex with you, Swan." He took a purposeful step in towards her, standing inches away. "If that's all I wanted, I could be having sex with you or any woman in Storybrooke…"
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Really. But if you were to come to me of your own free will. Eyes open. Sober. Having sex is not what we'd be doing."
"Oh? So, what would we be doing?"
He let a hint of a smile spread over his face and then spoke, his voice a low murmur. He started slowly, letting each word hang in the air.
"First, Swan, I would undress you. Right were you stand. I'd pluck at the buttons of that party frock you're wearing. Slowly. One after the other. Making you wait. And yes, I'm quite adept with one hand. The dress would slip away and onto the floor at your feet. You'd shiver. Not so much from the cold but from the anticipation."
He paused before going on, letting the words sink in. She looked up at him, her eyes widening.
"Then your underthings. First, that slip you're wearing. The one with the lace trim. Yes, I had noticed, in case you were wondering. I'd slide it from one shoulder and then the other. My fingers just brushing against your skin. Then I would slip my hook just inside the waistband of those lacy underpants you have on and slide them slowly down your legs. It's quite good for that sort of thing, I've found.
"Then you would undress me. First my waistcoat. Then my shirt. I'd raise my arms as you pull it up over my head. Your fingers would linger on my chest and arms and then down to the buttons of my trousers. Your hands. You're eager. Maybe even a little nervous. Perhaps we both are, because we know what this means. So your fingers would fumble at the buttons, and I'd take them in mine to calm you, then I'd finish with the buttons myself.
"We're both quite naked then. We've never seen each other this way before, although we've both imagined it. And often. You're beautiful, and I'd tell you so before taking you in my arms and carrying you to my bed." He nodded over his shoulder to his bed. "That one. Over there."
He looked back at her. Her lips had parted slightly, and she did not look away.
"I would lay you out there gently on your back. And then I would cover every inch of your body with my hands and my mouth. Your soft lips. Your neck. The valley between your perfect breasts. That spot behind your knees that makes you weak. Everywhere. Until you can't bear it anymore. Then I would work my way back upwards, stopping again at your mouth. I'd whisper your name in your ear…Emma, and it makes a little shiver go snaking up your spine.
"Then you would wrap your arms around me a pull me down, and I'd cover your body with mine. Your hands would be in mine, your eyes on mine. You would say my name back to me. Not Hook. Killian. Yes, Killian, you would say. Yes.
"Then I would slip gently inside you, and you'd let out a little moan of pleasure. My eyes are still with yours as I move over you like water. Tenderly. Slowly. Then quickening. More urgent. Building to that moment of release. I would wait for you, and then you'd say my name again. Killian.
"Then I would spill inside of you just at the moment your body explodes like a thousand stars in the sky. You would shudder, pulsing around me and everything would feel like it was standing still. Just for a moment."
He paused for a moment. Her pulse had quickened, her chest rising up and down.
"Then we would collapse against each other. Our bodies would be damp with sweat, and there's a little bead of it, just there..." He raised a finger to her collarbone. "In that little hollow at the base of your throat. We would lie there, catching our breaths, our limbs tangled together until we would fall asleep in each other's arms until morning, when we would start all over again."
He took a step away from her. Her cheeks were flushed pink.
"And that's what we would be doing."
There was a long pause. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her mouth a round "O." She swallowed hard and began rummaging through her shoulder bag for her cell phone.
"I need…to go. I should. Go. It's late.." Flustered, she jabbed at the buttons and made a small, unintelligible noise. "I should go. Yeah. Umm…call a cab."
She babbled into the phone and turned to go back on deck without looking at him. He smiled to himself and followed after her as she stumbled back on deck and slipped into her high heels.
She gathered herself as best she could in her inebriated state and turned to him as they reached the deck. Her voice was artificially breezy. "I'm just gonna wait for the cab. You don't have to. Wait with me. If you don't want. I'll be fine." The midnight air was frigid, and icy puffs of air curled from her mouth as she spoke.
Without saying anything he slipped off his coat and draped it around her shivering shoulders. "Thank you," she murmured, barely audible.
They stood in silence until the cab slid up to the dock. She turned and handed him his coat back. She opened her mouth as if to say something meaningful, but then she stopped and looked away.
"Good night, Swan," he said gently. "Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year…" she replied back and turned for the cab. Her hand was on the door of the cab, and she finished the thought with a glance over her shoulder. "…Killian."
She smiled and dropped herself into the backseat of the cab. He watched her go and then turned back towards his cabin, wondering what the New Year held for him. He could still smell her perfume as he undressed and slipped into his empty bed.
He ran a hand over the cold sheets next to him and a long, slow smile spread over his face. Empty, yes. But he had the distinct feeling it wouldn't be for very long.