Throwback to season two-ish...a little first date/NOT a date one shot based on the lyrics to 'Firebreather' by Laurel.

What the hell was she thinking? Wait - no. It was just a drink. A girl can get a late night drink at the bar with her nemesis, right? Emma tried desperately to talk herself off a ledge as she tore through her collection of clothes for something to wear. She had avoided him for weeks successfully, only to be caught between his hook and the counter at the diner the day before. That unexpected scene was how she'd ended up here - throwing the majority of her clothes around the room as she tried to figure out what he or this was. There was no way in hell would she call this a date.

He frustrated her to no end. Sure, she'd only had to hold a productive conversation with him on a couple of occasions, but it didn't mean she hadn't seen him around town dozen of times. He'd always show up at her most composed moments and figure out a way to turn her into an absolute mess. He was borderline obscene with his suggestive smirks and bedroom eyes. The way he could run his tongue over his teeth just before punctuating a word with a hard ending sound had to be illegal and she'd know - she was the sheriff. Oh and that damn accent. That stupid, terribly sexy accent.

He'd planned this, approaching it in a way he knew she couldn't refuse. It had almost been stated like a dare and Emma's love for a challenge wouldn't allow her to back down. She thrived on competitive situations and damn him for being perceptive enough to know that. Yet when he cornered her and she should have seen him coming, the whole conversation still hit her like a bus. She had been flustered and so distracted by his charms that before she knew it, he had coerced her into this little meeting by telling her she was probably the one who "couldn't handle it". That stupid idiot.

Combing through the closet for the thousandth time, she was about to give up when she saw that dress. The red one. The strapless red one. She grinned almost maliciously to herself. That scoundrel wouldn't know what hit him.

The bar was oddly busy for a Thursday night which meant parking was scarce. Emma had found herself having to nearly run to get into the warmth of the bar and out of the late autumn chill. The attire she had selected wasn't exactly weather appropriate, but it was worth it if it would serve her other purposes. She tried to mentally steady herself as she entered the building, quickly scanning the room for that smug, self assured pirate that she'd come here to beat at his own game. As she strolled closer to the bar, a new song came over the speakers - a slow, seductive tune that did nothing to help matters. She'd heard it before and tapped her fingers to the beat on the wooden surface as she watched for him from a distance.

Town cryer, village flyer.

She heard him before she saw him. He was laughing at some aspect of the conversation being shared with Jefferson, the local longtime bartender. The sound was just loud enough - silky and inviting - and Emma chided herself for smiling when she recognized it.

Got a skull and crossbones on his chest.

Gathering herself and gaining a bit of bravery, she turned to look at him. He didn't see her yet and despite her best efforts, she began to stare. Yeah, she stared hard. It really was unfair for him to look so downright attractive. He had somehow gone shopping and his usual leather pants were replaced by fitted dark washed jeans. He was wearing a linen white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar open. She noticed he was still wearing his rings and that chain - the one she could envision herself grabbing and...oh hell, she had to stop thinking that way.

And I can't resist-

She watched him stroke his jawline thoughtfully, imagining what it would feel like to drag her nails across his stubble. It seemed to accentuate his features, the dark contrast bringing out his brilliantly white smile and those unfairly dark blue eyes. How facial hair could be so positively sinful she didn't know.

When he looks like this - oh, oh.

His dark head of hair had grown in much longer than usual but it still stuck up wildly in all the right directions before swooping across his forehead. Emma tried to visual what the bed head of Killian Jones might look like, but she internally slapped herself at the idea of this man and an early morning in the same thought. Freaking pull it together, she internally yelled at herself.

All his other girls with face on magazines.

Suddenly, a slender dark haired girl he didn't appear to know slunk to his side, slipping her hand to his forearm. He eyed her curiously and Emma wondered why such a thing was making her blood boil. She did everything in her power to calm her shaking hands and lighten the blush on her face as she watched the girl move her fingers across his skin while whispering what was probably a long list of filthy promises into his ear.

Big blue eyes-

Emma wasn't about to stand there and watch him secure a place to hang his hook at the end of the night. She rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but before she could take a step in the opposite direction, he saw her. At first he seemed surprised, his posture slightly straightening and his gaze wide. It only took a second for that familiar lust to return. His eyes grew focused and stormy, the most intriguing blue she'd ever seen. He seemed to zero in on her with purpose, a devious smirk turning up the corners of his lips. The world around her went blurry as Emma found herself unable to unlock her eyes from his.

Oh, I don't know what it means.

He flashed his teeth at her subtly as his head nodded toward the barstool next to his own. She rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment, trying to decide if securing a seat at his side was the best idea. Emma couldn't figure out how he did this to her. She was a nervous disaster and she had no idea how to make herself appear otherwise - but it was damn time to figure it out. A deep breath left her lips as she walked toward him.

Killian looked at her like he could swallow her whole. His eyes were full of that blue fire she'd continue to claim she loathed. As his tongue ran skillfully across his lower lip, she realized how difficult it was going to be to keep pretending.

What does he want from me?

"Swan," he breathed, that cunning smirk irritating her ruthlessly. "I was hoping you'd make it."

"Well, I said I'd be here," she shot back, trying to maintain whatever confidence she could scrounge up. "So I'm here."

"Hmmm," Killian replied, a bit too entertained for her liking. "Good to see that you don't back down from a challenge, love."

The burning blue of his gaze took any words she could have said right out of her mouth. His teeth worried his bottom lip in a way that seemed to tempt her. He wasn't even speaking. He was only staring. Yes, staring in a very, very heated manner. Damn him.

"Yeah," she responded, finally tearing her eyes away. "I need a drink."

No it's too much.

Killian ordered for her, the sultry request for rum leaving his lips before she could even decide what she wanted. It was annoying that she found herself so okay with his selection - but hell, at this point, she would settle for anything the bartender poured. She had to find some way to relax if this was going to work. She had to figure out a way to keep him from getting to her.

He picked up his drink, tilting it toward her with an arched eyebrow. She matched his expression as she clinked her tumbler with his. He seemed to study her, swallowing hard as he watched her finish off the liquid lining the glass. He lifted a hand to wave Jefferson back over, the bartender pouring them two more before vanishing to the other side of the bar. Killian smirked at her in proposition. God, he was so frustrating. It was going to be a hell of a long night.

Burn my sun-

"So love," he began, his tone confident and vexatious. "You coming here tonight makes me think you might be ready to call a truce of sorts. Perhaps it means you're willing to put our rather rocky past in the past."

"We don't have a past, Hook."

Using his "more colorful moniker" always made him react defensively and she saw it in his eyes the moment the name slipped past her lips. He ran his index finger up and down the glass, glaring at her with some emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint.

"So the beanstalk doesn't qualify as starting out on the wrong foot?"

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

Up in flames we go you firebreather.

"Perhaps," he said after a moment. "But only if you're willing to disengage from this unfavorable opinion you have of me."

"I don't have a problem with you, Captain."

Referring to him as a man in position of power seemed to strike a chord she wasn't sure she wanted to. His expression became flat out devilish, his smirk far too mischievous and those eyes pull her in to drown. When he leaned in closer, Emma felt her defenses vanish right along with her personal space. There was no way to prepare for what he said next.

"Prove it."

Ash and dust on my door with smoke rise-

Emma froze for a moment, her spine tingly as he watched her expectantly. Her mind was spinning as her fingertips flinched at her sides. What the hell was that supposed to mean? No, he didn't get to say things like that.

"Oh, come on, Swan-"

Before she could think twice - or hell, even once - she surged forward and grabbed the collar of his crisp shirt, fusing her lips to his in a way she didn't even know she wanted to. The shock he felt was evident in the way he jumped a bit, but it dissolved quickly as his hand moved up to hold her jaw. It didn't take long for him to take control of the kiss, his tongue parting her lips and pulling a moan from her throat. Emma's heart pounded as his fingers tangled in her hair and he guided her mouth flawlessly against his own.

Finally, her head cleared just enough for her jerk backward, a scorching heat warming her face. She could only imagine how embarrassed she must look - she hoped it wasn't a match for the humiliation she felt. Her eyes were wide and her voice was conveniently misplaced. Killian finally caught his breath, his bright and blue as he stumbled to find any usable words.

"Emma, that was-"

Trying to survive inside your arms.

Her brain reeled for a response and the one that tumbled out of her mouth was not expected - or to be honest, even the least bit true. No way - not after a kiss like that.

"A one time thing."

He exhaled hard, pursing his lips into a smile that told her just how wrong she was. Now what in the seventh circle of hell had she just gotten herself into?