entitled; they call you heartless (but you have a heart, and i love you for being afraid to show it)
summary; 'so they call me a player, a manwhore—it's not important. it's also entirely true. i've had fun, i've slept around. and i might have shagged a teacher—but it's nothing on the lies they come out with about you. they call you heartless, and i know damn well that it's not true. i know you, emma, i see the heart in you, even if you refuse to see it in yourself.'
rating; t
disclaimer; in addition to owning nothing of ouat, i can't even begin to consider what would happen if i ever got my hands on hp.
word count; 1,358
notes; obligatory gryffindor!emma and slytherin!hook, what more is there to say?

they call you heartless (but you have a heart, and i love you for being afraid to show it)

.

Emma had been so sure she'd be safe from him in the Astronomy Tower; Slytherins—especially Jones—often spent their time in the dungeon during these kinds of events. They preferred their own after parties to Hogwarts' traditional balls and such.

Yes, she was so damn sure she'd be safe from confrontations and questions about all that had gone down between herself and Jones. What she hadn't counted on was Jones basically having her every hide out lodged in his memory by know.

"You are quite difficult to locate when you really wanna be."

Emma gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to lash out and murmured, "That's the point, Jones."

She felt the old wood creak beside her and knew he was making himself comfortable beside her. She wanted to protest, to tell him to go the hell away, but Emma knew by now that he'd never listen.

"Shouldn't you be down there dancing with Cassidy?" He asked, and Emma jerked her head in his direction, shooting him the nastiest glare she could possibly muster.

"Do you really want to go there, Jones?"

He gave a rather exaggerated and over-dramatic sigh, but he didn't press the matter, which she was grateful for, "Fine, fine. We won't get into that. But, honestly, Swan, looking like that and locking yourself in this bloody tower—it's criminal."

Heat rushed to her cheeks but she simply rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Jones."

"Granted, I do prefer the color green, but you make it difficult not to have a bit of a soft spot for red." He rambled on, leaning in with a smirk.

By now, Emma knew his tricks—knew the way he lured the girls in and made them feel wanted. Made them feel beautiful and special and loved.

Emma knew how they felt. She knew someone like Jones. Which is why she had tried so hard to keep him from getting under her skin. But she fell for his charms anyway.

"You don't have to hide behind that wall of yours, Swan. I've told you a million times."

"And I've told you a million times that what happened meant nothing and I'm not hiding behind any walls." Emma snapped. Of course she was lying; but he always knew she was lying. He wasn't like Neal or any of her friends—they worried, but they never looked. Not really.

"You're doing nothing but lying to yourself, Emma," he sighed, watching as she pushed herself to her feet and went to stand against the railing. "You know… I try so hard. I've worked constantly against the words of others but you make it so damn hard—"

"I don't give a damn about the words of others, Jones!" She shouted, jade eyes glaring down at him, "Do you even pay attention to what they say about you? Manwhore. Slut. Player. They've gone as far as saying that you've slept with one of the Professors, so why do you give a damn about what's said about me? Worry about yourself and leave me alone."

Anger flashed across his features and he was on his feet in an instant, stomping towards her, "So they call me a player, a manwhore—it's not important. It's also entirely true. I've had fun, I've slept around. And I might have shagged a teacher—" There was a jealousy so horrible twisting her gut at his confirmation, but Emma brushed it aside and focused on his words again, "—but it's nothing on the lies they come out with about you. They call you heartless, and I know damn well that it's not true. I know you, Emma, I see the heart in you, even if you refuse to see it in yourself."

Emma swore her heart stopped in her chest; there were feelings there—feelings that she swore she wasn't going to acknowledge if she could help it. But there he was, making her emotions run wild with a few words. "You haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Jones."

His ocean eyes narrowed and Emma found herself being backed up against the railing of the Astronomy Tower, "Don't I?" He questioned, "Do you honestly think I don't know you, Emma? That I don't see every bit of pain I've ever experienced, reflected in you? On opposing houses we may be, but you and I are far more alike than I'd care to admit."

Her heart was racing in her chest even as she scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. "You're delusional."

He became entirely too close for comfort in the next couple of seconds, confusing Emma long enough for her not to realize that he was leaning in with the very intention of capturing her lips with his.

"Am I, really?" He breathed out just before their lips met and Emma's mind went entirely blank; she stood frozen, not quite able to process what was happening until he nipped at her lower lip and she gasped. It was like the spark of emotion inside of her ignited into a flame that was coursing through her veins, consuming every inch of her.

Emma snaked her arms around his shoulders, drawing him in as close as she possibly could. It was sloppy and desperate, and Emma was positive her lips would be bruised later but she knew that if she stopped him now, she'd have to face the reality that he was entirely right about them—about her, and she wasn't quite ready to own up to any of it. Emma was ready to repeat their night together—she should have expected that he wouldn't make things so easy for her.

When the need for air came, Emma pulled back, lips trailing down his jaw and neck but he stopped her; surprising them both. "As much as I would love to have you here and now, Emma, I'm not going to let you off the hook like that. Not again."

Emma gave a frustrated sigh but nodded, pressing her forehead against the crook of his neck. "I hate you, you know."

"Not as much as you do Cassidy, I'd wager." He murmured, and Emma swore she could hear the smirk in his voice. In response, Emma jabbed him in the stomach with her index fingers, pulling a pained grunt from his lips, "Alright, alright, he-who-must-not-be-named will not be mentioned again."

Emma snorted at his wording, but didn't comment on it. She simply let the silence linger for a bit—the silence was always a comforting one between the two of them, no matter how much he got on her nerves.

"Swan?"

"Yes, Jones?"

"Dance with me?"

Emma's brows furrowed as she looked up at him, "Tell me you're joking."

"I'm not letting the night end without at least one dance with you, love." He answered with a smirk.

"But we can't even hear the music up here." Emma whined, pulling back and knowing quite well that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

He reached for her hand and rested his other one on her waist, slowly drawing her closer again. "Come on, Swan, let's see if the rest of this night is at least somewhat salvagable."

At that point, Emma's hesitance was melting away, and she found herself swaying to the beat of a tune that wasn't even there. It felt nice.

"Killian?" Emma murmured, a while later as they were dancing.

She could sense his surprise at her using his first name, but he didn't comment. "Yes, Emma?"

"Thank you." She responded, lifting her head from its place against his chest to press her lips softly against his cheek.

He blinked down at her for a moment, before a small smile slipped onto his lips and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. "Anytime, love. Anytime."

end.