Disclaimer: Don't Own, Don't Sue.
A/N: This is my first ever Captain Swan fic and it's just a quick one-shot based on this prompt from fyesemmaandhook tumblr blog: Emma is not a light weight and she is not about to let that smug bastard out drink her (or Hook/Emma drinking game fic). Thanks to anonymous person who suggested it. This is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are my own. Enjoy!
xxx
It was supposed to just be one drink. Just one harmless drink that she'd agreed to for reasons she can no longer recall, but she's sure she will remember again with time. He grins at her with a self-knowing smirk every time she takes a sip. Emma is not a light weight and she is not about to let that smug bastard out drink her. Oh no. She's definitely not going to give him the satisfaction.
As she slams the shot glass against the table, he grins at her. A grin that her sober mind knows not to trust. A grin which implies that he's up to something. But her drunken mind only claps as he pours her another.
"You ready to yield yet, Swan?" He challenges her, his voice as clear and crisp as always.
"In your dreams Hook," She retorts, and that little reasonable voice at the back of her mind reminds her that this is a really back idea.
Emma can't really recall how Hook managed to talk her in to this drinking game. A drinking game that he knows, involving cards and rules that she thinks he might be making up as he goes along. He probably gave her a challenging look, with a hint of smug self-assurance that she would back out. But she showed him!
Emma grasps the table quickly with one hand as she sways slightly and uses the other one to shoo away his attempts to assist her. She doesn't need his damn help. She's not a princess in need of his rescue. He's an arrogant bastard of a pirate and she doesn't need his help. Somewhere, in the deepest depths of her mind, a voice starts merrily singing a song about a pirate and a princess.
"Shut up!" She snaps at her stupid brain; she had fully intended for the comment to be internal, but the words leave her mouth before she can stop them.
Hook looks taken aback. "What?"
"What? Nothing nothing." She can feel the heat rising to her face and she hopes he'll just attribute it to the amount of alcohol she's consumed. "Just hurry up and choose another damn card."
In hindsight, she really should have written down the rules when he first explained them, although she's not sure that she would still be able make out the letter amongst the blurs in her vision. Two drink ago maybe, before she turned over that damn second Queen and he let out a low triumphant laugh. He gave a look of mock pity as she met her fate. He's got to be manipulating the game so she's drinking more; it's the only way to explain why her head is so dizzy and filled with mushy thoughts, whilst he sits perfectly upright across the table with that stupid smug look on his face.
'Stupid pirate with his stupid rules and stupid rum. Can he be any more of cliché?' She snorts slightly at that last thought and he merely raises an eye brown at her.
He's looking at her so intensely, like she's the only thing in the world right now. It makes her face feel hot whilst the rest of her body shivers with expectation. She usually hates being scrutinised, but right now she's feeling something else entirely. There's definitely a perfect word describe the warm, pleasant feeling which is growing in the pit of her stomach. The one that she felt before when he wrapped his scarf around her injured hand and tightened the makeshift bandaged with his teeth. He never once took his eye off hers as he did it and now his unflinching gaze is fixated solely on her again. Last time, it made her completely forget about the biting sting of the rum that he'd poured on the wound.
'Rum.'
She looks at the table and sees that there's less than a quarter of the bottle left. Emma tries to mentally tally up the number of cards still laying face down on the table, but soon gives up this seemingly impossible task. What she does know, however, is that there are fewer cards left than when they'd first started. Sooner or later this game will end. It has to end. And Emma Swan will not give that conceited pirate the satisfaction of backing down now.
"Your turn, darling." He gestures for her to pick another card, a flirtatious smile on his lips. "But if you want to stop, just say the word."
Hook leans lazily across the table, slowly invading her personal space until his lips are inches away from her. Emma's senses are over whelmed by the heat raiding from his skin, the smell of rum on his breath and the sound of his voice being so close.
"I'm sure I can think of a suitable forfeit for you," He's offers suggestively and he's close enough that his words gently caress her lips.
With an undignified huff, Emma rolls her eyes and pushes his head back towards his side of the table. She grabs the closest card to her and curses loudly when she sees another queen smiling up at her. Hook looks a little hesitant this time.
"Look, sweetheart, you don't have to do th -"
"Shut it Hook," She barks, grabbing her glass and downing the dark amber liquid. She slams the glass back at the table and begins to giggle uncontrollably. "The rum! Why's the rum always gone?"
As Emma continues to laughs, Hook just looks at her like she's grown an extra head. Before she can stop herself, she loses her balance and falls to floor with a thud.
"Swan? Are you alright?"
She tries to answer him, but she can't push the words through her laughter. She rests her head against the cool table leg and sighs contentedly as the world stops spinning. Her eyes feel so heavy and so does her head, and Emma just tells herself that she can have one minute. Just close her eyes for one minute before getting up again.
Just one.
xxx
Slowly, Emma minds drifts back into consciousness. She tries to open her eyes and immediately regrets it as the pain of a hangover stabs at her brain. Emma mutters a string of curses under her breath.
"My, who would have thought that a princess could know such foul language?"
At those words, Emma's eyes snap wide open. In her hast to turn her body round so that she can see him, she almost falls backwards off the bed. Luckily, his hand reaches out and grabs her arm, tugging her back to safety.
"Steady there love," He whispers softly, his blues eyes once again settling firmly on hers. Instead of letting go of her arm, he gently drifts his hand up towards her own and proceeds in bringing it close to his mouth.
She wrenches her hand from his loose grip, almost swiping him across the face as she does. He's laughing at her now. The sound causes the pain to ripple more strong through her head. She doesn't know if it's this or the fact that the smug smile is back on his face which makes her want to hit him more.
"Will you just shut up?" She demands, nursing her poor head in her hands.
He falls silent, but she can still feel her eyes watching her and his stupid grin. Emma enjoys a moment of blissful peace, before carefully taking in the scene in front of her. Then reality catches up and slaps her square in the face.
"Whose bed is this?"
He chuckles softly, "Why it's mine, love."
"Did we... Did we... you know?" She asks, gesturing wildly between the two of them lying on the bed, her horror preventing her from getting the words out.
"Please! We're both fully clothed and, as I told you before, I am always a gentleman," He scoffs, although Emma sees the flash of hurt in his eyes.
She opens her mouth to apologise, but he's suddenly inching closer again.
"Besides lass," He murmurs softly, "That's something you would have remembered. I guarantee it."
She scoffs and rolls her eyes when he winks at her. Every instinct is telling her that she needs to push him away now, that she needs to stop him getting closer, but she can't seem to act. She blames her sluggish reflexes on the alcohol and ignores the goose bumps she feels dancing on her skins as he encroaches further into her person space. He's close enough now that his breath leisurely strokes her skin and Emma fights the inappropriate desire to close her eyes. His movements are deliberately slow, like he's giving her ever chance to escape him. They both know that she could if she wanted to, even in the state she's in right now. Killian's hand gently cups her cheek and he turns her face to meet his gaze. There's a salacious smirk on his face and a suggestive glint in his eyes.
"I think, Swan, that you and I need to discuss your forfeit over breakfast." He's lips are only a few millimetres from hers as he speaks. Either of them could easily close the gap. It's like he's daring her not to, daring her to resist and Emma's not one to back down from a challenge. "Don't you?"