"Emma? Emma Swan?"

Shit. Shit shit shit.

This was bad, like really bad. Like if she had a magic bean she'd be jumping through a portal right now bad. Well, maybe she is being a tad dramatic, but a girl is due her histrionics once in a while. And Emma Swan is definitely entitled to them in this instance.

They weren't even supposed to be on the city sidewalk right now, dodging socialites and the business crowd. But of course he had insisted they stop and find some food, because he's "bloody famished love," and was sure to drop dead if she made him carry one more box down from her old New York City apartment to the beat-up old bug parked out front. Come on now, who is the over dramatic one in this pair?

Maybe she could pretend she didn't hear him, that voice, calling out from across the crowded city street. After all, it's perfectly plausible in the mid-afternoon bustle of downtown. But then she hears the quick patter of running feet, and a breathless "Is that really you, Swan?" and Killian is swirling around next to her to locate the voice and she is so, totally, screwed.

"Oh, hey," she stutters lamely, turning with a shuffling of feet to take in the man standing in front of her. She takes in his black boots, scanning slowly upwards: dark wash jeans, grey button up sticking out of a jet black sleek leather coat, scruff-lined cheeks, ruffled dark brown hair, simple stud glinting from one ear. Finally, she looks the man in the eyes. Way too overly emotive eyes.

"Swan, I was beginning to think we would never cross paths again," he smirked. "And what a shame that would have been lass," he added for good measure, wink and all. She had almost forgotten the accent. But it was decisively Irish, not at all close to the English-intoned bastard next to her. Nope, not even a close correlation. In fact, didn't those two countries hate each other at one point or another?

Maybe he didn't notice, she hoped, turning slowly to gaze at Killian standing next to her. Yeah right. If his shit-eating grin was anything to go by, he was clearly enjoying this little encounter.

"Emma, love, I don't believe you ever mentioned this enchanting fellow," Killian quipped at her, sticking his tongue into his cheek a bit as her looked at her with an expectant expression she knew he was trying to pass off as innocent yet was anything but.

"Killian, this is….Ian," she gulped. Oh God, this is going to be even worse than I thought. She caught Killian's soft snort next to her. He composed himself quickly and extended his hand out to the man she was currently cursing in her head for even existing.

"Lovely to meet you mate," Killian said. "I always enjoy catching up with Emma's friends from the city."

Bullshit, she thought. He spent every other minute reminding her of how much he hated this "bloody hellhole, with its bloody starless skies, and bloody busy streets, and bloody confusing street signs."

"Well, I don't know how much Emma would claim me as a friend I'm afraid," Ian smirked. "We had a brief dalliance, after weeks of me chasing after her." "Bloody stubborn this one is," he mock whispered.

"Don't I know it mate," Killian whispered back, leaning in conspiratorially, as if Emma was not privy to their conversation. Both Killian and he chuckled, and she didn't know where to direct her glare first, but they were both sure as hell feeling the effects of it.

"Aye, but then one day out of the blue she decided to stop gracing me with her smile, and after a brief spell of despair I acknowledged that at least I got a chance to meet such a lovely lass and was able to move on with some dignity," Ian said. "I see now that I seem to have been outmatched."

At this point, Emma was surprised Killian's eyebrow hadn't flown straight off his face from the smirk that would undoubtedly stay planted on his face for hours.

"Well, it's great seeing you again Ian," she said, grabbing Killian none too gently by the elbow and trying to persuade him to start following her back down the street.

"It's been an absolute pleasure lass, we should all grab a drink sometime and catch up some more," he called out.

Killian looked like he was about to suggest they do so right this moment, but before he could, Emma yelled back, "Afraid we won't be able to anytime soon, I've moved out of the city for now! Take care!" before whirling around and pounding off down the sidewalk, ignoring Killian's chuckle as he swaggered up next to her.

"Now love, why have you never mentioned him from your brief jaunt in the big city?" he queried. "I rather liked the man, seemed quite charming. And certainly easy on the eyes. Frankly, I'm surprised it didn't work out."

She continued her frenzied stomp down the street, not even slowing her stride a bit to roll her eyes at him and shoot one more death glare his direction.

Hell if she'd ever let him in on why she stopped seeing Ian in the first place. Why a general sense of unease sent her running the other way. Why his smirk and charm and innuendo and lilting tone could at times almost win her over, but ultimately left her with a sour taste in her mouth. She couldn't explain it then, couldn't put a finger on why he seemed almost, but not quite, right. Why smooth words and terms of endearment that should have made her swoon stilted her heart, but not in the way intended.

Of course, she knew the reason now. He wasn't him. Her snarky, tenacious, dashing bastard of a pirate with his silly grins and halting words. She knew he had figured it out as soon as Ian started talking, but she wasn't about to inflate his already engorged ego any more by confirming his suspicions. Her stupid subconscious was clearly at fault here, and she refused to take the fall for it.

"Bite me," she huffed, stopping to wait for the turn signal so she could dash across the sidewalk to her favorite takeout location.

"With relish, love," he whispered into her ear, backing up to waggle his eyebrows and dart his tongue out quickly to wet his lips. "Oh, and don't get me wrong darling, I'm plenty glad you have since moved on to greener pastures."

Idiot pirate.