Act 1- The Chase

In her defense, Emma hadn't meant to sleep with Hook. That would have to be her comfort, the excuse in her head that she insisted was correct. When he had shown up that morning at Granny's and spotted her in her usual booth, she hadn't planned to sleep with him.

The image would stay in her mind forever, scorched in the normality of the diner with its simple comforts and homey curtains – and then there appeared the dark-haired pirate with the blue eyes that had fixated on her the moment he walked in.

She would never be able to eat another hamburger again, not the juicy kind that lay innocently on her plate as he walked in. For some horrible reason, she saw him and then looked down at the food, hoping he'd just go away. It was an odd moment to be alone in the diner, but Henry was off with David and Mary Margaret, and Neal had disappeared with Gold to go solve some new quest. (Emma was fairly sure the quest was a chance for them to fight and make up over and over again as only that father and son could.) She had come to the diner with her cell phone to check emails and play online games while she ate, but the phone wasn't much of a defense to one determined pirate who strode up to her table.

"Swan?" he smiled at her.

Her hand was on the phone and she answered, "I'm busy."

She meant to sound aloof or annoyed, but it came out prim and prissy.

Hook glanced around. "There's no one here. Do you plan to talk on your message box?"

"It's a phone," but he had already sat down.

She wanted to say something cutting or scornful, but she couldn't quite meet his eyes. The kiss they had shared in Neverland was seared into her brain. She loved Neal, she did, but Hook was a new type of dangerous. That look in his eyes when he had touched a finger to his lips, asking for a kiss. And it had been amazing.

"I've been reading," Hook announced.

Emma met his eyes. Insulting she could do. "I didn't know you could read. You found some Dr. Seuss books? I always liked Green Eggs and Ham."

"That sounds disgusting, and I have nothing else to do in this place. Pirating isn't really in high demand here, and without a ship, it's just stealing, really. No, I've been to the library to see the lovely Belle and I checked out a book before Gold could get there to kill me for eyeing his girl."

Hook held up a library card and Emma found herself smiling at his signature: Capt. Hook, Killian Jones, Pirate.

"I thought the book I chose was about different shades of one color, maybe fashion advice, but it turns out that it's just a description of a man's surname. It's all a secret code because they couldn't call the book The Cruel Businessman and His Whorish Bedwench who Likes Her Nights Painful."

Emma stared at him and then whispered, "Are you talking about Fifty Shades of Grey?"

"Aye, love," he grinned rakishly at her.

"Hook," she hissed, "this is a family restaurant."

"I've seen Ruby here with her short shirts and necklines that make every man's trousers get tight."

"Hook!"

"Don't give me the blushing maiden routine. You had a child years ago and it wasn't a virgin birth. And you've obviously read the same book so . . ."

"I've heard about it, not read it," Emma corrected. "And that doesn't mean I agree with anything that takes place in that – that wretched thing."

"Aye," Hook smiled. "The acts are enjoyable, but I've been with many women who enjoy being tied to the bedpost while I toy with them."

"Hook -!"

"Really," he leaned closer, "contracts are for buying ships and writing land treaties. Pleasing a woman should come natural whether or not you spank her or she spanks you."

"Stop it. Order some food and talk about normal, G-rated subjects."

Hook gave a searching look and then leaned back in the booth. "Such a prim little nun. And I'll get food shortly. When Granny goes into the back, I'll nip one of her cinnamon buns."

"Killian Jones," Emma scolded, falling into reprimanding him more easily than discussing BDSM, "you can't steal from Granny. I still have ties to the sheriff's office."

"Sorry, love," he shrugged, "but I have no money here."

"What?"

"I traded what little gold I had at the bank for your money to pay for a room here, but I can't really use my skills here for a job. I can man a boat, but the fishermen here bring in enough fish and no one has advertised for a thief. I can't really steal valuables on land because there isn't a black market in Storybrooke and what's the point of stealing if I can't sell or barter?"

"Are you telling me," Emma looked at him sternly, "that in the months you've been in America you haven't had money to buy food? How much have you stolen from Granny?"

"She must know I'm taking her food. She keeps putting out desserts and then making a point of going to the back and staying far too long."

Emma looked over at Granny. Sure enough, she was by the display of cinnamon buns, pushing them towards the edge of the counter and then feeling around her apron as if she had lost her pen. She went into the back even though there were three pens scattered on the counter.

"She's been putting more icing on them since she found out I saved your father's life," Hook said, about to rise.

"Stay seated, you pirate." Emma cut her hamburger in half and angled the plate so he could share. "You need more than stolen desserts."

"Really?" Hook hesitantly took the offered half of hamburger. "What did you put in the food? Poison? Sleeping spell? Impotence curse?"

"Ketchup and mustard," she rolled her eyes.

He bit into the food. His eyes slipped closed as he chewed and he groaned softly at the taste. "Ah, Swan, you're so good to me."

Heat rushed over her at his words, and she felt it grossly unfair that this handsome man should sit across from her with his dashing charm and masculine beauty, caught between the old world and the new, the tinge of magic and the throb of sexuality.

So unfair.

Emma chewed on a French fry, nibbling tiny bites off in hopes that if they just kept eating nothing dangerous would happen.

Hook swallowed. "Food in my day was awful. Everything rotted and molded, no flavor, just bad. Tea was all right but never strong enough. Rum was our best bet because it could keep so long."

"What about in Neverland? You could just imagine it there."

"Aye, children could, but we adults had trouble getting it to come out right. I'd catch Lost Boy every now and then and force him to imagine the best food he could, but most of them had never eaten good food so it was all bad."

"It must have been if you think diner food is good."

"Exactly what's wrong with my food?" Granny had appeared with a pitcher to refill Emma's glass and she set down a glass for Hook with a clink.

"Nothing, it's all good," Emma rushed to assure her. "Could we split a cinnamon roll? One that we pay for?"

She leveled an accusatory glare at Hook, but he just smiled charmingly at Granny. "Lots of icing, if you please, love."

Granny sniffed, but she went back to the counter and took out a bun and the icing bowl, smearing the fluffy whiteness over the brown top.

"It's called charm," Hook said. "You should try it sometimes instead of being so rough and prickly."

"Maybe I should melt like that icing you love so much. Take to being a helpless little princess, waiting to be rescued."

"Then you wouldn't be you."He took another bite of the burger. "This is so good. What is it?"

"It's ground-up cow."

"I like it," he nodded happily. "It tastes almost as good as a woman."

"Hook!"

"Ah, come on, Swan, live a little. You might like it."

Two hours later at the sheriff's office, Emma paced restlessly. She and David shared the duties of sheriff though she found that he had better practice at it, having been a prince and leader in his world while her skills at bounty hunting tended more towards the risk and capture than settling small disputes. The whole town seemed to use the sheriff as a judge of petty fights and half the time Emma sent them to Archie for counseling.

She sat propped up against the desk, tapping a rhythm with her fingers as she tried to ignore the path her thoughts were taking. Sweet goodness, how long since she had slept with a man? How long since she felt the weight of a man's body on her, smothering her with his strong limbs and sweaty scent?

"That pirate," she scowled. "Damn pirate! I should jut lock him up and be done with it."

The image of Hook behind bars, the way he put his arm up on the bars and leaned his head on it as if being behind bars was just too much to bear, the sad eyes he used to coax her to release, the expression of betrayal when she didn't cooperate – it sent a jolt of heat throughout her.

"Screw it," she grabbed her wallet and pick-pocket tool. "Just screw it."

She had used the f-word frequently in her adult world, but somehow in Storybrooke she felt like language should be kept to a PG13-rating. Unfortunately, there was no way to censor her thoughts, especially when Hook was involved.

She snuck into the inn part of Granny's and made her way to his room. The door was locked and she thought she heard the shower going.

The idea of Hook soaking wet nearly made her run back to the sheriff's office, but Emma stood firm. Well, actually, she crouched down and began picking the lock. It opened and she peeked into the room. His clothes were on the bed in neat, military precision and his hook and contraption were on a chair.

A notebook was on the bureau. In small cursive, a list of tasks filled the whole page. Learn the internet. Read War and Peace. Figure out the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek. Ride a motorcycle. Apply for a hand transplant. All typical Hook.

The shower was on hard, but Emma still crept over the floorboard, cringing at a sudden squeak. She opened the bathroom door and steam billowed out.

He was singing some pirate jangle that probably was about feeling up a busty tavern wench, but Emma cleared her throat.

"Hook?"

The singing stopped, and he pulled the curtain about enough to look out, "Swan?"

So unfair. How did he look so good with wet hair? She looked like a drowned rat after she showered. He showed enough of his chest for her to see the dark hair soaked with water, and his one hand held a bar of soap.

Oh, the heck with it all!

"Killian," she smiled as she pulled her tucked in shirt out of her jeans and began unbuttoning her shirt.

He stared as water sprayed out of the curtain on Granny's scoured floor.

"You're taking a shower but I'm not sure you know how to wash properly," she took off her shirt, baring her dark pink bra to the humid air. "So I was thinking I'd get in there and scrub you myself."

"Bugger me," Hook dropped the soap.

It was so naughty, pulling off her clothes while he watched without blinking. Emma got down to her bra and panties and fixed him with her sexiest look. "That's all I'm showing until I see more of you."

Hook flung the shower curtain back so fast water went everywhere.

She had never seen his whole arm without his hook, and his stump looked raw against his pale, toned body. He had more hair dusted over his body than Neal did, but most on his chest and legs. As for his privates . . . well, Emma now understood what made Hook so cocky, pun intended. And he was getting hard.

"Well, let's see it, love," he looked ferocious the way he grinned with all his teeth.

Nearly dizzy with the enormity of what they were doing, Emma unhooked her bra and let it slip down before stepping out of her panties.

"Emma Swan," Hook's eyes were wide, showing the white around his blue irises, "you are a goddess."

She tossed her hair back as she stepped towards him. "Move over, Killian. And stop getting water everywhere. You spill anymore and I'll make you clean it up . . . with your mouth."

He crushed her with a kiss as he pulled her into the hot water, and his fingers grabbed at her breasts. He was so wet and warm and real.

His fingers went lower, and Emma gasped before leaning over to sink her teeth into his shoulder in hungry desire.

"Oh, Swan, Swan, you're so good to me!" Hook moaned.

And for once, she couldn't disagree.