A little AU meet-cute for you all, cause I don't about you but I seriously miss Emma. Also a warning for slight language and sexual references. Enjoy! XOXO Minty

'You know you can't spend forever hiding in that bed don't you?' It's Mary Margaret at her door again but Emma just groans and switches off her alarm clock for the millionth time that morning.

'What exactly happened last night Emma? You're a mess.'

'Don't want to talk about it. Need sleep.'

She catches sight of the suit jacket folded neatly over her desk chair, winces, and buries herself under the pillows once more.

************************** Six hours earlier**********************************

The cruise ship's midnight party is in full swing. The music is blaring and the alcohol is well and truly flowing and with only two hours left til docking, the passengers of the SS-StoryBrooke are taking full advantage of their time left with the open bar.

Killian Jones stands off to the side watching the carnage with a partially raised brow and a look of utter boredom, bordering on distain. Whilst, generally, he can find no fault with a night out where the booze is free and the amount of cleavage on display threatens to topple him over with the many delights it promises, tonight is different. For one, he's sober, which is never a good way to enjoy a night out, but secondly and much worse in his opinion, he is not allowed to touch any of the ample booty that is on display in many a fine form.

Being on the losing end of a bet sucks.

But he did promise that if he failed (something that has never happened before and never will again thank you very much) to pick up a particularly vivacious blonde bombshell on their last night of escapades, that he would keep his hands to himself for once on their next adventure.

And fail he had. Spectacularly.

She sure had been something, voluminous blonde hair, green eyes, a body hand-crafted by the gods themselves and a snarky attitude to boot. She was everything he generally looked for when he had most pleasurable activities on his mind, and with his smoot accent, tussled hair and gratuitous charm, he never failed to acquire company for the night. He had found in the past that, generally, women loved him, were shocked and flattered to have captured his attention and so he had strode up to her, head(s) cocked, eyebrow raised and a crooked half smirk in place, more than enough to make any other gentle lady he approached swoon.

But not her.

No, she had laughed in his face, tearing every bit of his self-confident swagger to pieces as she did. Robin and Will would swear they had never seen Killian sulk harder. And so his punishment was born; sorry and sober, they were calling it and it certainly was that.

And naturally, just to add to the 'joy' of his torment that same blonde bombshell is aboard the StoryBrooke tonight. So far, he has managed to evade her, having only spotted her once, when he had ventured to the drinks table earlier in the evening hoping to sneak some rum when his friends weren't looking.

Now, however, it seems he's out of luck because she has spotted him sulking in his corner. Her eyes widened slightly as she recognises him, the mirth twinkling in them matched only with the grin of pure evil on her lips, don't promise good things. She is ready, it appears for round two of his humiliation. Briefly, he wonders whether Robin and Will have put her up to this, but he doesn't have time to ponder this too much as she's now headed his way. Shit.

Killian Jones has always fancied himself a confident, charismatic heartthrob but tonight his pride is going to take a hit, because he turns tail and runs. He can hear Robin and Will (bastards) laughing at him from the balcony above him as he walks hurriedly in the opposite direction as that of the blonde.

He spends the next hour sulking by the food table, avoiding both the blonde and his friends. The later however prove more difficult to ignore as their increasingly boozy chants from the balcony above him force him to seek shelter elsewhere.

Why did she have to show up in the midst of his night of utter humiliation?

It is as he is seeking another secluded spot to spend the next hour sulking, that he spies her. The blonde girl from before stands alone outside, vulnerable and unprotected from the wind in her strapless dress, leaning against the barrier of the ship as if trying to catch the wind and get it to carry her away.

Killian stands watching entranced as her dress slips in the wind just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the full curvature of her breasts. Momentarily he forgets about his previous rejection as his heart stops and warmth flushes through his body. Without realising what he's doing Killian finds himself opening the door, stepping out in the cold and approaching her. For an awkward moment he pauses behind her, suddenly very unsure of himself. If this were any other woman, this situation would be as natural to him as breathing. However with such a creature, particularly one which seemed to promise to bite his head off less than an hour ago, it seems a new approach is in order. And so he opts for kindness, tugs his suit jacket off his shoulders and prays the bloody woman will be worth all of this damn effort.

'Here.' It comes out rougher than he intended and she startles, turning suddenly and almost topples them both in her surprise. His coat drops to the floor forgotten as he reaches out and wraps an arm around her waist, keeping them both upright and as steady as is possible on the rocking boat. She stares at him, her vivid green eyes wide, frightened and slightly glassy from the alcohol and all Killian can do is stare.

Until the murderous look returns to her eyes and Killian remembers why this was a bad idea in the first place. Unperturbed, because damn has he screwed up already by approaching the possibly murderous woman, he stoops into a low bow, reclaims his tuxedo jacket from the floor and extends it towards her.

'Killian Jones at your service lass. I believe we've met.'

She simply stares at him in reply, she's sizing him up, he realises, trying to determine whether to stay or whether to run. Something seems to flicker across her eyes (doubt?) as if she's arguing with herself but whatever anxieties that seem to be plaguing are quickly overtaken by her curiosity as her expression softens slightly. What must this woman think of him?

'You mean the night you embarrassed yourself in front of your friends trying to pick me up with a few cheesy one liners? Yeah I remember.' Oh right, that's what she thinks of him.

Scorn still drips off every single one of her words despite the slightly less hostile look on her face. What has happened to such a beautiful lady that she can't even accept a little harmless flirting? Still it's a slight improvement to their last meeting that she's even talking to him, so, to hell with it, he'll bite.

'Glad to see I made such a great impression love.'

She raises an eyebrow mirroring him, her disbelief clear in her expression. 'What were you thinking with those lines? Surely you didn't actually think they would work did you?'

'You're a beautiful woman milady and I simply wished to try my luck.'

She snorts in reply (deflecting again?) but her eyes travel to his still extended hand holding his jacket. 'You talk funny,' she says as she extends her hand and takes it from him, smiling slightly.

'Curse of the brits,' he replies returning her smile, 'we all sound funny according to you Yanks, but can't say I'm sure you've got that the right way around love.'

'Suuuuuure.' She says extending the word with impressive sarcastic sincerity that Killian must admire her for. She really is something. 'You were standing in-between me and the door and I needed some air.'

'Excuse me?'

'Before,' she explains, 'when you scarpered tail between your legs at the very sight of me.' She grins wickedly at the memory, her smile growing impossibly wider at the stunned look on his face.

'Wow you really thought that was about you, didn't you?' She laughs, 'you know I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like you before.'

'Heartbreakingly beautiful?'

'Egotistical and vain.' She replies, rolling her eyes as he clutches at his heart melodramatically.

'The world doesn't revolve around you, you know.' Her expression darkens as she finishes her sentence. 'I've met so many people who seem to think they're better than they really are or better than everyone around them but no one who has quite reached your level of, self-assurance.'

'Believe me love, I am not as well-adjusted as I may appear to be.'

'I gathered that back in that godawful bar you accosted me in.'

'Well aren't you quite the little mind reader?'

'Not a mind reader, exactly, I just have a gift of sorts,' she looks away struggling for words, 'I can just… tell when people are lying to me. You, I guess, put out that vibe to me that night.'

'Forgive me love but I was being perfectly genuine. In fact, I quite fancied you before you started yelling at me.' He tries for his charming smirk, but it feels somehow wrong used against this woman and he stops.

She turns to stare at him, those green eyes piercing his with a stare that is both quizzical, unamused and slightly vulnerable if he's not mistaken, though she hides that last trait well.

'No you weren't.' She states bluntly. 'If you were being honest with yourself, perhaps I wouldn't have been such arsehole to you.' Killian simply stares at her, somewhat shaken by her insight. He can't quite work her out nor how she could possibly know that but evidently someone has hurt her badly in the past. And she is clearly on her guard around strange men, no matter what she thinks about them, not that Killian would ever presume…

He clears his throat, trying and failing to clear the fog she has created in his head as well and says, 'that is, I would still be quite interested in keeping the company of such a pretty lass for the night… that is if she were at all interested.' He finishes rather lamely catching that look in her eye and glancing down at his hands instead unable to meet the intensity of her gaze.

'No.' It is firm but Killian catches something else, a hint of pain. She guards her castle walls well. With machine guns, evidently. She has turned and is staring out to sea, obviously ignoring him. That look has returned to her eyes as if she wished the wind would snatch her up and whisk her away to some faraway place. Somewhere where her problems can't find her.

And he can't follow her.

But now he's beginning to realise that maybe he would try. Because there is more to this woman than meets the eye. He finds himself wishing to understand her pain. To understand her and her hardship and all that she has gone through.

To try and heal her.

He scoffs inwardly. Is he crazy?! If he's honest with himself up until ten minutes ago he thought this woman was crazy and yet now clearly he's the crazy one, because some goddamn stupid instinct dragged him out here and now he figures himself half in love with the bloody infuriating woman?

So, it is of course, perfect timing when at that exact moment as he opens his mouth to reply, to say something, anything in response to her rejection and his observations of her character, that there is a cry of, 'Look out below!' from somewhere above them and he is promptly covered head to toe in vomit.

…

The first thing that registers is the smell, a homely mixture of tequila, stomach acid and the cheap nachos the crew served several hours earlier. The second thing that registers, shockingly is the pleasant sound of laughter coming from his right. The demon angel is laughing at him, and despite the sensation of chunks vomit sliding down his back, it warms him.

That is until, in time with the sound of heaving from above, he is covered in yet more of the same heavenly concoction. Now despite the presence of the gorgeous blonde beside him, hopefully on the point of opening up to him, he wishes the ground could swallow him up whole.

Which is of course, Will and Robin's cue to join them. They run out onto the balcony laughing their arses off. Robin at least has the empathy to look slightly sorry for him but Will…

Will stands there doubled over with laughter alternating between struggling to breath and snapping photos. 'I had to see it for meself mate, I can't believe its true! What a beauty you are! Who'd have thought stomach acid could do so much for your looks!'

Unnoticed by Killian, Emma takes his sudden distraction by his friends as her cue to leave. He was getting to close anyway. Too close to breaking through her walls. Too close to making her laugh and letting herself be happy again. She has rules for a reason. Because feeling nothing will always feel better than a broken heart.

She turns and looks back only once as she leaves. Killian looks absolutely miserable, covered in vomit and being filmed by his friends. Fleetingly she feels the need to defend him, to protect him from world, but she shakes the feeling off and keeps on running.

It never occurs to her to return his jacket to him.

'I think I can say with no scruples that this has to be the worst night out of your life Killian.' Robin says later as they all jump into a taxi at the docks, 'you were sober, vomited on, roughed up by that blonde psycho again, and you're coming home with us! Killian Jones I never thought I'd see the day!'

Killian simply falls back into the seat of the cab, and sulks. He lost the girl. He lost his favourite suit jacket and because she ran off on him before he even got a chance to ask her, her name, he has no way of finding either one of them.

Worst night out indeed.

************************9am tomorrow morning***************************

Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could she have been so stupid?!

Is it worse, Emma wonders that the guy whose company she was actually enjoying for once had been thrown up all over just as she was getting ready to let her guard down a bit or that she had bolted the second he had practically been carried off by his friends to get cleaned up?

It wasn't like she had meant to just bolt, but she had rules and he had come painstakingly close to getting under her skin. And yet, somehow despite her rules, all she could think about was him. She groaned and rolled over again trying anything to get him out of her head.

Later when finally, she crawls out of bed intent on incinerating his jacket and any thoughts of him along with it, inside the jacket's inner pocket she finds a business card and a scribbled phone number. Cocky Bastard.

Still, vomit and mistakes aside, maybe the night hadn't been so bad after all.

And maybe, just maybe, this cocky Killian Jones is exactly who she was looking for all along.

Hope you enjoyed y'all! I've been a little reluctant to publish this piece, it's been sitting limbo for over a year now, because I just haven't been able to get it quite right, so let me know what you think, ok or needs more work? Will they get together? Who knows! Happy holidays everyone! XOXO Minty