Based on a Tumblr prompt: Emma hasn't got any bra under that peasant dress. Killian happens to notice that.

…

Distractions

…

He is definitely going to hell.

Oh, before this he was always going there, but now he's sure he'll end up in a certain special ring of hell, his own section cordoned off from the rest of the miscreants of the realms.

But really, who could blame him?

He turns away from her, focusing on the task at hand. They need to be on the lookout for Snow White to ensure she meets her Prince Charming today because they sure as hell did a bad job of getting them to meet last night. But Emma's eyes meet with his just briefly and he knows he's been caught.

"Hook?"

He turns back around watching her from the opposite side of the trail, "Aye?"

She looks up and down the track before ultimately deciding that Snow won't be along just yet and scurrying across the expanse of dirt to the pirate.

He has to avert his gaze as she runs.

"Hey, what is going on with you?"

She's so close, crowding him, trying to get the answer to her question from his eyes. He knows that's how she reads lies so well in other people.

"Nothing," he says, maybe a little too quickly.

She tilts her head, "Yeah. Right." The sarcasm is thick in her tone and he fights to keep his mouth shut. The denial isn't going to help him, he needs to just distract her from the whole line of inquiry. But she's already a step ahead of him, already besting him. "Is this about last night?"

Last night. Last night she had been captured by royal soldiers after the ball, stripped of her gown and given the rag of a dress she's wearing now, before being thrown into a prison cell. He had broken her out and commandeered a blue cloak for her to put over the threadbare dress, to at least provide a little warmth and, if he's being honest, save her from his own prying eyes, because he's been unable to ignore the fact that her undergarments were removed in the whole imprisonment ordeal.

She's still talking when his chain of thought ends, "...because it was entirely not your fault, you need to stop blaming yourself for these-"

"It's not about last night," he assures her.

But she's not letting go of this one, "Then what?"

In the end it's his eyes that betray him, glancing down for just the smallest fraction of a second. Emma's eyes open wide as she realises what he's looking at. She crosses her arms over her chest with an affronted, "Killian! Really?"

He shrugs, "I don't mean anything by it, lass. But I am a mere man and they are quite…distracting."

She'd be lying if she said there wasn't anger at his inability to keep focussed, but there's also just the slightest bit of arousal at the thought that she can distract him so much with all her clothing on.

"Just…eyes up, okay?" She turns back towards the track, "It's not my fault that bras don't exist in this realm. They took my corset from me when I was thrown in the cell."

He knows it's positively deplorable that he is even thinking about her naked at this point in time, but he reigns in the fantasies pretty fast at the thought of Emma being thrown around last night. "I apologise, lass."

She smiles up at him, arms still crossed, but stance otherwise open, "It's fine. I sometimes wonder about what's going on under those leather pants of yours, so really, we're even."

Before he can stumble through an answer to that particular piece of knowledge, there's a noise on the trail and they look out between the branches to see past-Snow approaching.

But she catches his eye one last time, all smiles and mischief and he thinks that maybe, when this is all over, she might be ready for that fun to begin.