It shouldn't have come as a shock to Emma. They might be two renowned cooking stars, but both Granny and Auntie Em were first - and foremost - strong, passionate and fiercely protective of their families. That was why their on screen rivalry had been such a success throughout the years. Their cooking shows were #1 in their own countries, and they used them as platforms to issue challenges to one another from across the ocean. All of which culminated in a final showdown: their awaited annual trip in which the self-styled "Two Old Ladies" would tour one of the countries and attempt to out-cook one another.

It was set to be in England this year, where Auntie Em had taken up residence over a decade ago, leaving her native Kansas and embracing British cuisine. It all had been planned in advance: routines crafted, locations decided and a thorough schedule set up. Emma had worked on it for months - it was one of her responsibilities as the executive producer of the show and a member of Granny's crew who would take part in the trip. It hadn't been easy, as her counterpart from Em's team - an erratic redhead named Zelena - had made her task quite difficult by withholding information.

That should have been Emma's first red flag right there, but since she was aware of Zelena's aloof behavior, she didn't think much of it. None of them did.

Which is why it felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped over them when the news came that Auntie Em had delivered a proverbial bomb to the network. She simply refused to work with Granny again, citing personal reasons and trashing her old-time cooking rival in front of the network's executives. Harsh words like backstabbing, conniving bitches were spoken, and as soon as they'd reached Granny's ears, detonated a chain reaction like no one had ever seen on a food and drinks network.

From there, it had escalated into a full-blown scandal, with the gossip media turning their heads to the severed relationship between the two women's granddaughters that started it all. Ruby Lucas and Dorothy Gale's love story had been part of the media hype around the shows, and the network had milked it for publicity for a long time. It was only reasonable, now that the relationship was over - and apparently not on good terms, that the fallout would be as public as the actual relationship had been, and would drag down the tour in the process.

This was why you never mixed business with personal affairs, Emma thought as she sat there, listening to Granny's threats about leaving the network for good and demanding Em's termination due to breach of contract. While Emma tried to placate her side of the successful duo, Zelena did nothing but fuel Em's rage, leading Auntie Em to pull the plug on the whole thing and resigning to go cook for a rival network.

It was a big mess whichever way you saw it. With only two months before the shooting of the annual trip was scheduled to begin, and a few weeks short of Emma, Granny and her team's arrival in England, there were no contingency plans. There had never been a need to have them before.

So the network pulled a wild card from their sleeve and made a one-eighty turn, bringing in the least expected person to team up with Granny on the show: Killian Jones.

The Pirate Chef. The fucking Pirate Chef. As if Emma needed that kind of challenge in her life as she was trying to pull off a last minute miracle and save her show, her livelihood, and the jobs of several people who depended on the show - and her. She didn't need someone with an ego as big as Killian Jones' added to the mix. She didn't.

Emma knew he could cook. The network loved him. The audience all but worshipped him. The combination of dark leather, chain belts, and a low rider bike coupled with his exquisite taste in food was a gold mine. His distinctive cooking style was all swashbuckling tales while brandishing knives as swords. His deep voice and nimble fingers captivating the audience as he made the most simple recipes seem like an exciting adventure. His trademark ending - him sliding his rings back on his fingers and uncorking a flask of rum to take a gulp once he finished cooking, his eyes flirting shamelessly with the camera - only fueled the audience further. They drank in every bit of gossip about him and his personal life as if he were Harry and William's long-lost brother. Killian Jones was every network's dream and he filled his part to a T.

For crying out loud, the man had gone toe-to-toe (or hand-to-hand) against Paul freaking Hollywood in a bread bake off, both of them sauntering around and exchanging barbs while kneading dough in their perfect black, long-sleeved shirts, not even a tiny fleck of flour tainting their cuffs - bastards. And when Killian had lost - by only a slim margin - Paul had made him dress like a pirate and use a hook in his left hand for a few episodes of his show. Captain Hook has never looked so attractive was the most mild headline that had made it to the news - never mind the things that were written on social media - and his ratings skyrocketed.

So, Killian Jones it was. And, as he announced on the latest episode of his regular season, his eyes smoldering at the camera before his lips closed slowly over his flask, he was looking forward to showing Granny and her crew all the good things England had to offer.

Emma rolled her eyes as the titles ran on the screen. She couldn't wait either. For all of it to be over.

Nothing good would come out of this. She could feel it.

/-/

She had to give it to them - at least they had class.

Or at least, more class than Zelena had ever had.

Emma had been surprised to find an email from Killian's producer - a woman named Tink Green - detailing the new proposed trip schedule along with accommodations, meal plans, and other activities and interesting sights in case she and her team wanted to take some time off and explore local attractions during the trip.

Emma had replied with suggested changes and her and her team's flight information. Along with Emma, Granny's entourage was composed of Aurora, her cooking assistant, Sean, one of their cameramen, and Sean's wife, Ashley, who played the part of wardrobe and makeup assistant. They were a somewhat young team, younger than Emma, and had only been part of the show's crew for the last few years, coming on board once the original crew had moved on to bigger opportunities within the network. Sean and Ashley had a young girl at home and were planning on extending their family soon. Aurora was saving money to have the wedding of her dreams with her fiancé, Phillip. They all depended on the show's success to climb up the ranks within the network. They all depended on Emma.

It wasn't their first trip to London, so they had little problem navigating the airport and making it to the exit as they looked around for their usual driver. Zelena and Em would never lift a finger to help them with this task and it was always left to Emma to arrange it with the local network branch. All of which was why they were surprised by the petite blonde dressed in comfortable jeans and a green sweater holding up a sign with Granny's name on it.

"I'm Tink. It's great to meet you!" She smiled as she shook Granny's hand and then turned to Emma. "Killian wanted to come himself, but he got caught up shooting some promos for the network. He sends his apologies and he hopes you can join him for a light meal after the briefing."

Well, that was unexpected, Emma thought as Tink grabbed Granny's bag and directed them towards the cars that were waiting for them. It seemed Granny echoed her thoughts, if her cocked eyebrow and widened eyes were any sign.

Tink was very amiable during the ride towards the studio, pointing out a few important things about the meeting, but considerate about their exhaustion after the long flight. She briefed them on the rest of Killian's regular crew who would be part of the trip: Belle would be the director, Robin and Will the cameramen, and Eric was Killian's personal assistant. Emma was surprised to learn he had no cooking assistant.

Tink grimaced. "He says the prep work keeps his fingers nimble for other activities."

Emma almost choked on the water she'd been drinking and Granny snorted. Tink sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know, but the audience loves when he does that. You have no idea how quickly that interview went viral."

Emma could imagine, words like that being spoken in the alluringly accented voice included in the absolutely sinful package that was Killian Jones. He was a killer combo of dark hair, blue eyes, light scruff, and abundant chest hair that was a recipe for success. But she only smiled and nodded before turning her attention back to their schedule.

The first thing she noticed when they entered the conference room was that Killian Jones was already waiting for them with the rest of his crew. He quickly stood and crossed the room to grab Granny's hand and pressed his lips to it in greeting. He smiled against her knuckles. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Lucas."

Emma noticed Granny's slight blush before the older woman recovered herself and provided a greeting of her own. Then Killian turned to her and Emma was met with the full force of those blue eyes staring at her. They were void of his trademark eyeliner, somehow making his stare even more intense than she'd ever seen. Emma tried to tear her eyes away from his, only to notice he wasn't wearing his usual tight jeans or leather vest either. Instead, he had on a pair of faded, loose jeans and a soft, blue Henley with a simple pair of black sneakers.

"And you must be the lovely Emma Swan, the producer I've heard so much about." His voice brought her eyes back to his. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Swan."

His lips brushed her skin and Emma felt goosebumps rise over her skin. She quickly recovered as she removed her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones," she said in the best professional tone she could muster.

He seemed gobsmacked for a brief second, before he shook his head and motioned towards the table.

"Where are my manners, please have a seat. I took the liberty of preparing a few snacks for the meeting and I hope you can join me for a light meal that I put together after we're done here."

Granny took a seat and adjusted her glasses to examine the food before taking a bite. She looked thoroughly impressed as she chewed on it.

Emma tilted her head in confusion. She'd worked with Granny for years and she was never this receptive of someone else's food. Curious, she grabbed one of the little quiches from the plate and popped it into her mouth. Suddenly, there was an explosion of buttery crust and curried lobster on her tongue and she had to repress the unprofessional moan that was coming to her lips. She opened her eyes - she hadn't realized she'd closed them as she was savoring the bite - only to find Killian Jones' hooded eyes focused on her.

Trouble, she thought. She was in so much trouble.

/-/

It had been a nice dinner.

Scratch that.

It had been a fantastic dinner. Emma Swan was used to good food. She'd been working on Granny's show for over a decade, moving up the ladder from intern to executive producer, and with that came all the perks of having access to really great food. But Killian Jones' cooking was in a league of its own. A superb one. She'd heard the pitch over and over in his show, the whole 'it's about the experience, lass' taunt that he'd so perfectly enunciated in every interview he did. What she didn't know, until now, was that Killian Jones could actually deliver on the experience he liked to brag about.

It wasn't a fancy dinner - he promised a light dinner and made that concept shine through - but every single dish was executed to perfection and brought not just great flavor, but triggered a variety of sensations. There was warmth and comfort in the rich stew casserole, heat and flirtatiousness in the spicy chicken strips, joviality and a feeling of good times ahead in the lemon and rum sorbet. Each piece fit perfectly together and left Emma feeling slightly dizzy and sated at the same time. She couldn't quite remember how she'd made it out of the network and into her hotel room, to be honest, the warmth of the food and the exhaustion from the long flight causing her to almost fall asleep on Granny's shoulder. The last thing she could recall was mumbling something to Killian Jones about his dashing palate, only to be rewarded with a heated glance and a whispered offer to cook for her anytime, anyplace, and in any compromising situation she so desired.

When she woke up early the next morning, Emma couldn't help but groan at the memory. The last thing she needed was a playboy chef mistaking her moment of weakness as an invitation into her bed. Emma was most definitely not interested in that, for a variety of reasons.

One. Emma Swan never slept with network stars. It was too messy and unprofessional.

Two. She never slept with someone she was going to see again. One night-stands were as far as Emma would go in terms of a commitment, and even those usually involved her sneaking out in the middle of the night without ever looking back.

Three. She was not interested in becoming one more notch on the bedpost of Killian Jones. She knew the rumors - hell, she even remembered the pictures of a trashed hotel room and him leaving the morning after with the Victoria Secret's Angel of the Year on his arm. There were others throughout the years, she presumed. And she was really not in the mood.

/-/

Whoever thought the world of television production was glamorous had clearly never been near a set or a location shoot in their life. It was a gruesome ordeal with early starts and late endings, long hours each day stretching in between. Filming on the road added an entire level of complexity to the mix: equipment transportation, mounting and dismounting sets, availability of items on set, the sharing of close quarters with the same people for weeks testing even the strongest of camaraderies. You name it, Emma and Tink needed to think about it, plan for it, ensure it was available, and have at least three back-up plans in case plans A, B, and C backfired. Emma still remembered one time she had to literally wake up the owner of a pastry shop at two in the morning to convince him to give up his entire cinnamon stash - in exchange for a hefty payment - so Granny could one-up Auntie Em on the ultimate apple-pie bake off. She had used every single weapon in her arsenal - heck, she was even prepared to sleep with the guy if needed - to make sure things worked out in the end. And they did. Emma was a planner. She made detailed plans. And then she made another one, and a few more just in case.

And all of that came from one source and one source only - coffee.

Which was why, at the (almost) crack of dawn, with all her stuff already packed and sitting in the front lobby, Emma found herself in their hotel cafeteria, eyeing the coffee longingly as if it were her one true love coming back from the dead after a painful goodbye. She was reaching for the pot when a voice interrupted her.

"Goodness, no!" Tink reached out, stopping Emma from reaching the pot. "You do not want to drink the awful concoction they dare to call coffee here."

Emma glared at her. "Tink, we've just met and you've been nothing but great, which is why I'm going to let you in on a little secret. I need coffee. In the mornings. To function. It's guaranteed I'll kill anyone on sight if I don't get a very early caffeine fix." Emma spoke the words with as much clarity as her sleep-clouded, caffeine-deprived brain allowed her. She really liked Tink. She'd hate to murder her because she got between Emma and her very much needed morning coffee.

"We're all caffeine addicts here," Tink said with a smile that was too bright for such an early hour. She tugged Emma's arm and redirected her towards the exit, grabbing her bag in the process. "And we never settle for anything less than the best we can get." She pointed to the tour bus that was waiting outside. "Hop in, everyone's inside and I promise you, your caffeine fix is waiting for you."

Emma sighed and got on the bus, noticing Granny was already there with Aurora sitting next to her. The heavenly smell of coffee - the good kind - invaded her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. "What is this?"

"This," Eric said, smiling and handing Emma a steaming mug, "is how we treat our guests and ourselves. Latte with a double shot and a dash of cinnamon, per Granny's suggestion."

"You have an espresso machine in here?" Emma marveled.

"Indeed we do." Tink grabbed the mug that Eric gave her. "Being labeled as a pampered hotshot certainly has its benefits when it comes to amenities on the tour bus. Like I said, we treat ourselves with nothing but the best."

"This smells heavenly." She cradled the warm mug between her hands and took a small sip that she let sit on her tongue a moment. "And tastes even better," she moaned.

Eric all but beamed proudly. "Glad to hear it."

"I have to say, on one hand I can't believe Killian Jones requested an espresso machine and has you making him coffee each day on tour," Emma said with a hint of annoyance. If there was something she despised, it was the obnoxious and over-the-top requests celebrities demanded and had their staff jumping through hoops to fulfill. "On the other hand, this really is the best coffee I've had in my life and you and I are going to be very good friends," she teased.

Eric blushed, a sheepish smile gracing his features. "I didn't make the coffee…."

"Then who did?" Emma asked, her eyebrows knitted in confusion and her head tilted to the side as she studied Eric's face.

"Well, I did, of course." Killian's voice drifted in from behind her and Emma turned to find him giving her a smug smirk.

"Killian fancies himself a barista aficionado and refuses to let anyone touch his baby," Tink offered as explanation, her eyebrows rising playfully as she took a sip of her mug.

"Aye, the Jolly Roger is a very special lady and needs a gentle touch that not everyone can give her." His hands were flying in the air with those flourishing movements that made fangirls swoon all over the globe, but Emma wasn't impressed.

"You named your espresso machine?" She almost choked on the words.

"Indeed I did." He took a step closer, invading her personal space. He focused his blue eyes on hers. "Also, I couldn't help but hear the lovely words you regaled my assistant with, not to mention your reaction to my coffee." His tongue traced his bottom lip in a sinful movement that was clearly not meant for public viewing, his voice dropping an octave into a husky whisper. "Darling, if you want a decent morning coffee, you're more than welcome to spend the night with me. I'd be happy to make you coffee the morning after - and do other, more enjoyable, things the night before."

He was good. She had to give him that. Very good. From up close, it was clear why women fell at his feet. She could see it, but Emma Swan wasn't one of those women. She hadn't fallen for a husky voice and nice eyes in a long time.

"You did not just try to lure me into your bed with the promise of good coffee," she said in a clipped tone, trying to remain somewhat amicable while giving him a chance to back out.

But it seemed Killian Jones didn't get the memo. "Not only good coffee, there are other activities I'm very good at. Much like the coffee you've just tasted, I'm sure it would be the best you've ever had."

There was fun, there was flirting, there was strongly hitting on someone, and then there was this. Emma cocked an eyebrow at him, biting her lower lip and taking a small step in his direction. She tilted her head and he mirrored her, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes darted to her lips.

"Hey," she started in a soft and alluring tone, her fingers tracing a line down his chest, a hint of a smile coming to her lips. He seemed dazed, his pupils dilating in reaction to her attentions. "Let's get one thing straight here, buddy." Emma reveled for a second in the shock on his face before she continued in a less friendly tone. "Those lines might work with the double-D-cup, no-working-brain-bimbos you are used to fanning and swarming around you." She changed the pressure of her fingers on his chest to make her point across. "But I know your kind and I am most definitely not interested. You're here for one reason and one reason only, and that is Auntie Em ended up being the biggest bitch on earth and we had to scrape to get anyone who was available. You were available." She met his eyes again and saw the embarrassment creeping into them. "You serve one purpose in this entire ordeal and that is to look pretty for the cameras and dash the viewers with your cooking skills and nimble fingers. From now on, I expect you to save all that innuendo-laced bullshit for the audience." She squared her shoulders in defiance. "Are we clear?"

He swallowed and took a step back, reaching to scratch behind his ear. "Aye, understood." He lingered for a second, looking down to the floor before he turned and gave Granny a sheepish smile. "If you'll excuse me, I need to have a word with Belle and she's on the other bus." He motioned for Eric to follow him and quickly made his way towards the bus door.

"Killian," Tink called softly, "we need you and Belle for the debrief in here. Make sure you both come back." She almost sounded apologetic.

Killian tilted his head as if he were debating with himself for a second before he nodded and he and Eric disappeared. Emma took another sip of her coffee before she sat next to Granny, a small smile of satisfaction gracing her lips. She turned around, expecting to see Granny's approving smile - Granny loved to verbally put douchebags on their place - but was met with a reproachful stare.

"You didn't have to be that harsh, Emma," Granny admonished, peering up over her glasses. "I'm sure pretty boy there isn't as bad as he seems. More like all bark and no bite, if you ask me."

There was something in Emma that had seen that too. In between last night's dinner, when he was laughing softly and trading stories with his team, and his bashful retreat just now, there seemed to be something there. It was laced in the food he made and the coffee he brewed for them. Something simmered beneath the surface of Killian Jones, something that didn't quite fit with the image he showed to the world. Something that made Emma restless. She quickly shut those thoughts down, her lips curving in a tight smile.

"Our livelihoods are at stake here, Granny. We can't afford to be wrong about him."