The Pirate Wears Prada (rated M)

A/N: CS Group Prompt that I signed up for. My apologies early on, those of you familiar with my work might deduce why. Why I signed up for a prompt that had a word cap on it, I still can't figure out. As it is... post s5, though not necessarily canon. Emma and Killian have a few hours for a good moment, taking advantage the best way they can... with plenty of rum.

It must have been the rum.

Like always. Or it could have been the two wine glasses Emma had already consumed during dinner. Very possibly both. But with Henry off with Regina, Emma wasn't too concerned with how inebriated she became. The town was in a lull for the night; vendetta's at a stalemate all around. Capture the good moments her father had told her once, so Emma talked her pirate into a date night at home. A home cooked meal (only slightly magically helped along), wine and candlelight. With a sly grin, Killian even took her for a slow spin around their kitchen with just his humming to provide music. It was sweet and beautiful…

…right up until her heels began to kill her from the ground up.

Killian stopped mid-rotation when a wince of pain crossed her features, his hands gripping tight to her waist with a frown of panic twisting his face.

Emma took her hand to his face, letting her fingers smooth away the creases. "It's fine… I'm fine. It's only my shoes."

Panic contorted into confusion. "I'm sorry… your what?"

A soft laugh escaped in spite of the stabbing needle pricks darting from her heel and toes. "These are brand new shoes; I haven't had the chance to break them in yet. I figured wearing them around the house for a few hours wouldn't be a problem. My feet just had other ideas."

Killian glared for all of a second before Emma was yelping in his arms. It was actually over his shoulder, but semantics. He carried her over to the couch, landing her with just enough thump to her bottom to express his displeasure with her. He dropped to his knee in front of her, mumbling words Emma couldn't quite catch as he slowly lifted one ankle via his hook to be even with his chest. The bright red heel was removed, revealing bright red lines where the shoe had pressed her flesh. A blister was well on its way to being a problem along the outside of her pinky toe, while her Achilles was rubbed raw. There was even a strong possibility that if she wiggled her toes enough, there would be several satisfying cracks among the joints.

Killian however, looked at her from under a popped eyebrow, breathing slowly through his nose. Emma could almost see the bits of rope tying themselves into intricate knots in his head to calm himself down. "Darling, as much as I love the color red on you… and as much as I enjoy the way shoes of this nature affect your posture… why in the name of the Gods did you buy footwear a size or more too small?"

"I didn't!" He breathed deep through his nose once more, so she cut him off before he became high handed in his scolding. "I swear Killian; this is how it's done. They make shoes stiff so that one size can fit more people."

"Love, you cannot be that intoxicated."

"No I'm serious. No foot is the same, and we don't make as many shoes out of leather. So they uniformed the sizes, and if it's a bit stiff, you just have to wear them until they've stretched out around your feet. Heels can't be all that pliant though, so they only give so much. It just takes time." It sounded true enough in her head anyway, so she went with it.

Killian only seemed more irritated by the idea. "So why not just wave your delicate hand to adjust them? Why subject yourself to bodily harm?"

"Seemed kind of petty and self-indulgent."

His mouth twitched; though in irritation or amusement, Emma wasn't too clear on. His hook guided her ankle back down to the floor, moving away from her skin with nary a scratch. Killian cusped her other foot as he did the first, removing the offending shoe. The markings were much of the same, his jaw ticking away in his agitation.

"At least heal yourself Swan. No need to limp around waiting on blisters to properly heal." She hesitated again, debating if she should suffer the pain of new shoes normally, but the pause caused him to snap at her. "With as often as this town attacks itself, you'll need your feet under you. Heal yourself, or I get the rum and salt and do this as I would on my ship."

He grabbed the rum anyway after she made her feet like new; taking a few swigs while mumbling about being the worst combination of his brother and her mother. She let him gripe, knowing he meant well and knowing they'd be back in this same spot once she wore the heels again. In retrospect, she should have worn flats and let the height difference make her swoon that extra measure. With wine in her system and rum in his… with magic easier at her fingertips and an eagerness to keep the night a good moment humming through both of them… well it had been too simple for the night to progress where it did.

Killian gestured to her heels once more. "So how long until those bloody things stop making you so… bloody?"

Emma giggled, "I think you've reached your limit pirate; the rum has addled your mind."

He scoffed, "Hardly Swan, or shall I show you how much rum I can hold… among other things?"

A memory flashed and she couldn't help the flush that followed, nor the idea right on its coattails. "Tell you what, if you can walk ten steps in those shoes as you are, I'll never accuse you of being too drunk for anything again."

"Unfair Swan. If your feet can barely fit the things, nothing short of magic would make them fit mine."

"Oh c'mon, your feet aren't all that much bigger. Unless you're not up to the challenge…"

His eyes flashed. "And that was bad form love."

"You're right. I shouldn't dare you when you're too drunk to even speak as verbosely as normal."

Killian huffed before swallowing another swig of rum. Soon his boots were off and his pants rolled above his ankle. "And you'll heal any injury these blasted things will cause aye?"

Emma held back anther giggle. "Of course. Can't have you nursing blisters with the town under attack all the time."

His eyes rolled to the heavens as his head fell back. He took a deep breath, "Fine."

Emma's hand shot out as gray smoke circled around it. In her fist were small nylon socks that would barely cover from his toes to his heel, but he took them when she told him that his sweaty feet would only make wearing the shoes more difficult. More sighs, and another drink from his flask before his feet were crammed into the shoes. Emma was more than willing to give him full credit when he managed to stand in her heels without remotely losing his balance, but he took four steps out effortlessly and spun on her like it was a damned catwalk. Her jaw slacked, to which he grinned.

"What's this Swan? Didn't think I could manage walking on the balls of my feet? Even when you consider how long I lived on the sway of the ocean?"

The night really broke down from there. Unwilling to be outdone, especially by a drunk pirate (especially by that drunk pirate), Emma upped the ante again.

"Yeah, but I bet you couldn't do it in a dress. It's a whole different deal then."

His eyebrow shot up. "You mean with the extra movement a full skirt allows?"

Emma grinned. "Not that kind of dress."

She rotated her wrist as a plume of her smoke engulfed Killian from neck to floor. When it cleared, Killian's clothes were gone. In their place was a black, knee length, tube dress. Feeling playful, she had even given him a sweetheart neckline. Her giggles burst into open laughter when he finally looked down and swore a string of colorful words. Emma thought she probably should feel bad, but then, he always did look good in black and red. His eyes landed on hers, and he tried so hard to remain scowling at her. But his dimples poke through and it wasn't long before he was laughing with her.

"Up for a spot of role play are you then? Not that I particularly mind, but a slight warning next time would be appreciated."

Emma's insides seized as idea after idea flooded her alcohol soaked brain. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth without thought while she shifted in her seat. Subtle signals of course, but ones Killian Jones wasn't likely to miss. His shoulders squared –an interesting image considering the amount of hair-dusted skin contrasted with the feminine covering. "Struck a chord did I?"

The heels clicked on the wooden floor as his steps slowly brought him closer. "I've already been a pirate, and a prince, are there others you'd like to see?" She swallowed, not at all sure when this had turned against her. "Perhaps an artist of some variety… paint your skin into a mural of my desire?" He bent low to gather her hands, dragging Emma up to stand in front of him. "A healer or physician? To lay my hands on your flesh and make you feel all better?" He walked backwards, leading her out onto the open floor. "A pious and religious man maybe? One you confess your darkest sins to all in hopes of absolution?" His arm circled her waist, her head craned back with his added height. "Or maybe you'd be the wanton woman that makes me cast off my faith, dragging me into the fiery depths with you?" He curved towards her, hot breath on her ear, "Or maybe simply you would have me as I am. Clothed as a woman, with a damning need to remind you how much a man I really am."

His hand pressed at her back, pushing her into the gender definition in question; the dress she had put on him hiding exactly nothing while the added inches from the heels allowed him to grind nearly into her sternum. Emma had never been so grateful to be flatfooted; her ankles having enough trouble as it was. Not that she would complain where this was heading in spite of his new clothing, she just wanted some control back in her hands. Some fragment to taunt him with, a quip to show he wasn't getting to her as well as he thought.

She spoke before she really thought the words through. "Nice little fantasies you have there. But I'm thinking all you're doing is trying to distract me from the fact that you still haven't taken the ten steps."

His smile was feral. "I've taken more than ten Swan. And quite a few were backwards."

"Pffft. Baby steps. No real balance to skill needed. Women of this realm RUN in those things. We stand for hours on end in those things. We fuck in those things."

She eventually realized which words she should have filtered in her brain. But her brain wasn't functioning like it should; swimming in alcohol and drowning in whatever it was Killian did to her senses when he turned up the pirate. There were a few things that she should have noticed going on around them, but she would have missed the town burning under his hungry eyes.

They should have known to brace for a storm when the town of Storybrooke grew quiet for an entire day. They should have known that if something happened and if they didn't answer their phones, someone would come barreling in to make sure they were all right and issue the call to arms.

They should have known.

But there had been wine and rum and challenges. In the end, it was Emma laying back on the kitchen table and Killian between her thighs and both their skirts hiked high. His words in her ear and her low moans in his and neither heard the door open.

"OH MY GOD!"

(They heard that though)

There was shouting and a scrambling of limbs; Emma peaking over Killian's shoulder, praying it wasn't her son that had just burst in. Her eyes rounded to find something a little worse.

"Dad! Shit… why didn't you knock?"

"I did! And called. Both of you. I came over to make sure everything was ok and heard sounds of fighting in here. Oh god how I wish there was fighting… are… wait… are you in a dress Hook?" Emma stole a glance to Killian, having completely forgotten that he was still in the black dress with red heels. But David held up his hands, "You know, I don't wanna know. Not ever. I'm going to go see if Regina can't put together a memory charm or something and erase this from my head. Cause I don't wanna know."

His ranting continued out the front door and down the street.

Regina was kind on David and granted him reprieve from his ill-timed rescue. He was able to look Emma in the eyes the next day with his usual smile. And he was able to sit in Killian's company without a mild panic attack. Regina however, Regina had found the memory to be a source of entertainment –much like one would enjoy a trained monkey. That following Christmas, The Red Shoe Diaries boxset was left under Emma and Killian's tree, and more than a few heels would show on their stoop with a note to Killian for a couple months after. Emma had just about forgotten about it with new versions of bad things to fight.

Snow threw a party for every victory, however small, claiming that high moral was half the battle won. Truth be told, Emma mostly agreed, even though she'd prefer to keep swinging until the newest bad guy was gone or dead or at least stopped from being a dick for all of a week. But down time was rare, and Emma had long ago decided to take advantage of the moments when they came. Killian was off to the back of Granny's Diner showing Henry they finer points to darts, shooting her a wink every now and then. It was her mother that had been keeping her company, asking for advice for child rearing in this realm. It was only one moment to choke back the reality that she had never really raised Henry, but those fake memories were based on Regina's real ones, it gave Emma a chance to bond with her mother on another level.

"Oh!" Snow all but bounced in her seat. "I've been meaning to ask you if Killian would be willing to do me a favor."

Emma looked sideways to her mother. "Shouldn't that be something you ask him?"

"Well yes, but Regina mentioned he might be a bit sensitive about it and that I should go through you first."

Emma stared on, utterly confused. "How about you tell me what's going on before I go interrogate the former Evil Queen."

Snow leaned in as if her favor was juicy town gossip. "Well since I had Neal, my feet haven't been quite the same size. Regina confided to me that Killian had a great technique for stretching out shoes."

Emma's head hit the table. "Oh my god."