A/N: This one is based off of a photoset I made on Tumblr and dedicated to my beautiful tinychat ladies. Love y'all!


He can see her. She's blurry because of the ice-cold drops of rain pounding into his face as he runs after her. He can't even bring himself to mind, all he can think about is catching her. This bloody insane woman who betrayed him and left him chained alone on a beanstalk with more questions than answers.

"SWAN!" He screams, continuing on as fast as he can even though his legs feel like they're about to give out. But to him, it's no matter. He doesn't care if his legs feel like they're on fire, because his entire being feels as if it is burning.

He just has to get to Emma and get the compass before Cora.

"You chose her, and the consequences of that action remain."

Damn right he chose her. This exuberantly brave and beautiful enigma who has become ingrained into his thoughts. Why wouldn't he choose her over the witch who threatened to rip his heart out and is likely the most untrustworthy person he has ever come across.

Scratch that, second most untrustworthy.

He reaches a small clearing in the middle of the grove of trees he's run into. He can't hear her frantic footsteps, so she's either outrun him, or she's watching him now. His eyes scan the trees until he spots it.

A small glimpse of blonde.

He has to get to her before Cora. He will not lose this minx.

He has no bloody clue why he's so enraptured with this woman with whom he has only been acquainted for a few hours, but damn did she make those hours count.

From the first moment she got in his face and murmured that she knew when she was being lied to, he knew that he must figure her out. She plays all of the games that he does- and she beats him at them as well.

He feels as if he's known her his entire life. When he figured out that she was abandoned as a girl, it wasn't because he had a lucky guess or even because of the Lost Boys, as he had told her. He just knew. One look and he knew her as if it had been years.

And she knew him- she figured out his motives for returning to Storybrooke and she saw through his cover. And for some odd reason, he wanted her to trust him. He wanted her and him to work like a unit- two partners in crime against the world. But she wouldn't trust easily- she was too interesting for that. She was a challenge.

And Killian Jones loves himself a challenge.

He doesn't understand this woman, doesn't understand how she has been in love before and how she turned into a woman who could bloody well be a cold-hearted pirate without her son in the picture. But oh, does he want to.

"SWAN!" he calls, "I know you're out there!" The gilmpse of blonde shifts until finally, she steps out, soaked to the bone, her long hair sticking to her face and neck and her clothes clinging to her slender figure. Her dark eyes are fixated on him, chest heaving as she takes another step towards him.

That's when he spots it. The compass. His one way to get out of this ravaged land to the land without magic- the one place where he knows he can best Rumpelstiltskin. And the Swan girl is holding it- clutching the small trinket as if her life depended on it.

"Well it's about bloody time," he breathes. He doesn't know how she hears him, but he can see in her face that she does. "Swan," he says, advancing towards her cautiously, "Give me the compass."

"No," she replies softly, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of the rain.

"Give the compass to me," he attempts again, taking a step towards her. She takes a step back. "-Emma." Her first name almost sounds foreign on his lips. He is so used to making up amusing pet names for her. She must realize how serious he is. No "loves" or "m'ladies" shall be uttered here. He is trying to get to Storybrooke with the woman he wants to go there with- if she would just give him the compass.

"No," she replies again, a little louder this time. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Please." She snorts, perhaps surprising herself because the spark amusement that lights up her eyes quickly diminishes.

"Hell no." How she can retain her sass in a moment like this is beyond him, but he goes with it.

Figuring that talking is getting him absolutely nowhere, he makes a lunge for the compass with his free hand, almost throwing himself at where she stands. But she's too quick for him, and he's lucky that he doesn't dive headfirst into a puddle of mud. He doubts Emma would be any more open to him if he looked like an ogre.

"Emma, you have to trust me!" he says, finally giving in and resorting to pleaing. "Cora will kill you, do you know that?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I know," she retorts, "And why should I trust you?"

"Emma, I have never-"

"Told me a lie? Sure, you've never lied. But you know what you have done?" He doesn't respond, eyes darkening. Thunder booms in the distance, The worst of the storm is getting closer. "You manipulated Aurora and kidnaped her! You preyed upon her weaknesses and I think it's safe to say that you took glee in it!"

"I know how to get what I want," he says simply, his hand balling into a fist.

"Exactly!" she fires back, "So why should this be any different? You want the compass, you want to get to my world by whatever means necessary. How I am I supposed to believe you are being sincere with me now?"

"You are-you're different, Emma!"

"Different!" she mocks, laughing maniacally without humor. "I cannot count the times men have told me that. Try something new, Captain."

"I am TELLING YOU THE TRUTH!" he screams angrily, "Why can't you just bloody believe me?!" All the anger he felt as he watched her walk away from him in the Giant's castle comes back in waves.

"I-"

"If anything, I should be the one running from you. You betrayed me, Emma. You left me alone up there for ten hours to be found by yet another woman who would just love it if I dropped dead." She hesitates.

"I needed-"

"A head start? Well, I needed a bloody head start on Cora, but I didn't get it."

"You kidnaped Aurora-"

"To get to you, Swan! I don't want to go to Storybrooke with Cora. I never did. I want to go with you." There. It's out there, in the open, for this challenging woman to judge however she wants.

"What if- what if I want to go to Storybrooke without you?" Emma asks slowly, her tone dangerous. She's about to run again.

"No matter," Hook says, his smirk returning. "Either way, I am getting that compass." With that he lunges again, practically tackling her to the ground. She squirms under him, punching at him furiously as he struggles the break the compass out of her grasp. He pins her arms above her head in an effort to get a better view of the trinket he so desperately wants. His hook pins her sleeve to the ground.

And then he makes a fatal mistake. He looks down and meets her eyes.

Her eyes are dark and alight with fury. Her lips are parted slightly and he can feel her hot breath on his cheek.

"Give me the compass," he murmurs darkly. She merely stares back at him defiantly.

"Well that's a plausible excuse for grabbing me . . ." she replies distantly. "But next time-" He's so distracted by her quoting of him that he is caught off guard when she throws her knee into his side and rolls on top of him, pinning him against the grass. Water drips off of her hair and onto his face. "Don't stand on ceremony."

And that's the moment Killian Jones realizes just how much trouble he's in.

Bloody hell.

He wants her.

Looking at her, eyes lit up with a toxic energy that seeps into him and hair clinging to her face, mouth set in a slight smirk, and hand intertwined with his in a battle for the compass, he wants her so badly that it's a second battle to keep from closing the distance between their lips.

"Well, love, it appears you have bested me," he murmurs thoughtfully. "Again."

"I won't believe that until you let go of the compass," she replies.

"Alright," he says with a smirk, his hand releasing hers. Her eyes widen with surprise and before she can respond, his arm grips her waist and pulls her down onto him, holding her against his chest as he rolls over, once again pinning her to the ground, making her drop the compass, which he quickly snatches.

"Think you've won?" she whispers challengingly.

"Oh no love," he murmurs, standing up and pulling her along with him. His hook gently makes its way down her spine before coming to a rest on the small of her back. "I'm sure you've bested me yet again. There's just one thing . . ." he breathes. Her eyes flutter closed.

"What?" she whispers shakily. She reopens her eyes as a bolt of lightning ricochets across the sky.

"You're not getting away this time."

He's not sure who closes the final distance between their lips, and frankly, he doesn't care. All that matters is that he found Emma Swan, and he kissed her in the pouring rain.


Not many redeeming qualities to this piece, I'm afraid. Oh well, I enjoyed writing it.

-Gab