Red-eye to Incheon

by Initial A

She called him Pennsylvania for the Pirates hat he always wore. He called her Boston because he claimed that Massachusetts was too much of a mouthful. It's their thing. It's comfortable. {AU} {for CS AU Week}

Someday I won't write something that's semi-autobiographical. Sadly, my experiences didn't lead to a hot English expat down the way.

---

She called him Pennsylvania for the Pirates hat he always wore. He called her Boston because he claimed that Massachusetts was too much of a mouthful. It's their thing. It's comfortable. Nevermind that he was clearly from somewhere in Britain or that the Boston U sweatshirt she wore one time to the bar actually belonged to David (she went to school in Minneapolis, thank you very much).

In a country where the local expats quickly learn everything and anything about each other in a span of about five minutes, it was nice to have someone to share a love of privacy with.

-/-

She met him her first Friday night in the city, still bewildered from jetlag and agreeing to everything because - as Ingrid told her repeatedly - saying 'yes' to just about everything would make friends faster than saying 'no'. Her coworkers dragged her out after work, walking the cold, mile-and-a-half hike from their neighborhood in Ssangyong-dong down to Buldang, where an American and his Korean wife ran a Mexican restaurant.

Cheap and a quick fix to bouts of homesickness, Cantina was a fairly popular hangout for the expat community. Emma met more people that night than she could ever hope to remember - jetlag or not - and learned more gossip about all of them than she ever needed to know.

"Everyone sleeps with everyone else. It's just a thing that happens." She learned that quickly enough.

The only person she didn't properly meet was the guy she'd eventually dub Pennsylvania. She went back up to the bar for another drink, he accidentally elbowed her. He apologized, she didn't remember what she said in return but it made his entire face light up with laughter - piercing blue eyes framed by laugh lines; ginger stubble coating his jaw that clashed with the black hair covered by the black Pirate's hat; full lips flashing in a charming grin.

She collected her drink and went back to her coworkers; but for the rest of their time at the bar she'd glance over to where he and his friends sat. Sometimes he'd be looking at her too. He'd smile whenever she looked.

She and her coworkers left to go to a noribang before she could work up the courage to ask who the cute guy in the Pirates hat was.

He was there again two weeks later, when it was just her and Elsa needing an overpriced margarita - stupid import taxes - after a particularly bad work week. The head teacher was riding Emma's ass about everything, even if it was only her third week and her second by herself; on top of that, it was testing week and Emma was slow at grading.

Overpriced tequila was worth it.

So worth it that when she went up for another Mexican bulldog, she didn't quite object when a smooth English accent behind her said, "Minho, give us two shots of tequila, aye?"

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, Pennsylvania?" Emma asked as he sidled up next to her.

"Well, love, the way you and Elsa have been scowling at your kimchi fries all evening tells me that less alcohol is not on your agenda," he said smoothly. He didn't seem perturbed by her nickname for him, instead just flashing that stupid grin of his - Jesus, did he have dimples too?

Fuck her, he did.

"Not your love," she said instead. Minho slid two tequila shots over to them - with lemons. "What the hell?" Emma asked under her breath.

Pennsylvania grinned again. "Welcome to Korea, Boston," he said. At her bewildered look, he nodded to her - David's - sweatshirt. She'd borrowed it - and forgotten to return it - before the last block of classes; her classrooms at that time didn't have great heating. "Do as the locals do, enjoy your lemon." He picked up his shot. "Seriously, it's actually quite good."

Emma shrugged. When in Rome, she thought, and they tapped their shot glasses together before licking the salt from the rim and downing the liquor. The amber liquid burned on the way down, stoking the fire in her belly, but he was right: the lemon was actually really good. "So," Pennsylvania said, setting his shot glass on the bar. "You work up at Friendship Language with Elsa?"

Emma side-eyed him. She didn't like that he knew so much about her and she had no idea about him, but she was learning that was just The Way Things Were here. She had been all but assured that she'd be doing the same thing to newbies in six months. "Yeah. You work around here?"

"I actually live next door," he said. Emma raised an eyebrow; as a pick-up line, it kind of sucked. He smirked. "Not a line, Boston, just a fact. I work up the road at Sunshine English."

"I've heard you Buldang types are partiers," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He laughed. "Only because this is where all the interesting stuff is. You don't have much up in Ssangyong."

That was true enough and Emma liked that. It was fairly quiet, a normal neighborhood; not just some flashy entertainment district. If she wanted that, she knew how to get to Buldang. Minho came up then, bringing her bulldog, and she slipped him fifteen thousand won. "Woes to drown," she told Pennsylvania, picking up the hefty glass. At least she got her money's worth. "See you around, Pennsylvania."

And she did. Not very often, but if she went out with Mary Margaret and David, or Elsa, the chances were good that they'd nod at one another in passing. She almost literally ran him over sometime after New Year's, when she'd finally been paid a full paycheck, at Emart Traders. "Whoa," he said, swerving his cart to avoid hers. Then he whistled when he saw the array of things in her cart. "Boston, how the hell are you getting all of this home?"

She shrugged. Her tiny apartment was pretty barren of even the essentials, so in addition to bulk food she had several industrial packs of cleaning supplies and a couple of things she could use to decorate. "Taxi. I can carry it the rest of the way."

"Finally got paid, did you?" At her inquiring look, he just smiled. "We've all been there, Boston. Listen, are you sure you can handle that on your own?"

Emma just smiled, backing her cart away from his and turning back the way she came. "I'm a big girl, Pennsylvania. I can manage on my own."

Even if it did take all day and three different stores to get all of the shopping done. She really missed her car.

She didn't see him again until Seollal - lunar new year. The rest of her coworkers had taken advantage of the time off to do a bit of traveling out of the country. Emma just took the opportunity to go up to Seoul for a few days, slumming in a jjimjilbang overnight. She didn't remember the city at all, having been too exhausted from her flight in, so it was nice to explore it fairly thoroughly. The new year decorations everywhere made the wintery-gray city brighter during the daytime and added to the neon burst of color that was Seoul after dark. She filled her biggest memory card after only a day from taking so many pictures.

It was late when she made it back to Itaewon; but like New York, Seoul was a city that never slept. Well, except for the American soldiers, she thought with a smirk as she watched a pair of M.P.s duck into a bar to remind the soldiers of curfew. At the jjimjilbang, she shoved her bag in her designated locker and went down to the baths, intending to shower and soak for a while to ease her aching muscles.

An hour and a half later, Emma padded upstairs in her bare feet and oversized pink hotel pajamas, finger-combing her damp hair out. She felt warm, sated, and absolutely relaxed. Seriously, if she could appreciate only one thing about Asia, it was their clearly superior bathing culture. Let's build a cheap hotel where you just hang out in pajamas and take baths all day! It will be amazing! some genius had decided a million years ago. And they were so right.

Humming slightly, Emma rounded a corner and smashed right into someone. "Oh fuck, joesonghabnida!" she cried, backing away and bowing her head.

"Boston?"

Emma looked up at that familiar accent, her eyebrows raising when she realized it was Pennsylvania, dressed in his own oversized hotel pajamas (his were blue). "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going. You okay?"

He smiled. "Fine, darling, don't worry about it. I wasn't expecting to see anyone I know here."

Emma was too tired to comment on the term of endearment. "Yeah, me neither. You by yourself too?"

Pennsylvania's eyes narrowed in annoyance as he said, "Aye, my mate Will up and decided he'd rather find someone cuddlier to share a bed with tonight, so I'm afraid I've got a room to meself."

Her eyebrow raised a bit. "Sorry to hear that."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but then realization hit. "Not like that, Boston. Will's a good bloke, but not exactly my type, yeah? No, I'm just worried he'll be a git and skip out on paying, leaving me to foot the whole bill."

"So call his ass first thing in the morning and wake him up."

He snorted. "Don't think the idea hasn't crossed my mind." She started to reply, but cut herself off with a yawn. He frowned, suddenly looking apologetic. "Sorry, Boston, I'm keeping you up. Let me walk you to your room."

She eyed him, bemused, but started walking. "There's CCTV everywhere, Pennsy. And it's Korea."

"Still. Evil gits everywhere, you know."

She knew. But she didn't realize that his chivalry would extend to exasperation over her sleeping space. "A mat on the bloody floor, Boston?!" he cried, gesturing wildly. She shrugged; it was cheap and she'd certainly slept in worse places before Ingrid adopted her. "The middle of the bloody hall too. This will not do, oh no," he declared. "Get your things, you're sleeping in a proper bed. Will's not using it, someone ought to."

She protested for a good five minutes before sighing and giving in. She grabbed her backpack from her locker and followed him to a small, windowless room with a tower fan in the corner. The only issue was the sleeping arrangement: it seemed that Pennsylvania hadn't been lying about this Will guy finding someone cuddlier to share a bed with. There was only a single, full-sized bed off to one side.

Everyone sleeps with everyone else. It's just a thing that happens.

Pennsylvania must have seen something on her face, because he grimaced and scratched under his ear. "Apologies, lass," he said, sounding sincere. "This wasn't a ruse on my part to tumble into bed with you, truly. I can just kip on the floor -"

Emma looked at him incredulously. He was either a complete idiot or just too high-minded for his own good. Possibly both. "Are you kidding me? If I can't sleep on the space of floor that I paid for, I'm not kicking you out of the bed you paid for. It's big enough, and we're both grown adults. We can handle this."

She ignored the raised eyebrows and sat on the floor with her bag, rummaging through it for her comb. She heard him climb into bed behind her and the familiar crack of a book spine opening. "Always travel with a book?" she asked, starting on her ends with her comb. "Or is that a Lonely Planet?"

"No, I bought this one down the way," he said in that distracted way of someone trying to read and talk at once. "There's a second-hand English bookstore. I can show you tomorrow, if you like."

Emma smiled. "So sure of yourself, Pennsy."

He chuckled. "Alright then, Boston, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Hike up Namsan, take enough pictures to satisfy my mom, catch the KTX home and catch up on sleep and chores over the weekend. Dread going back to work Monday."

"Sounds like a full plate," he said, and she hummed in agreement as she worked at a particularly difficult knot. "Good choice on Namsan, they have a festival this time of year on top of the mountain. It's interesting."

It seemed to her that there was a festival for just about everything here, but Emma didn't say anything out loud. Instead, she let him get back to reading while she finished combing her hair. Eventually, she put the comb away and braided her hair up; no sense in trying to mess with it in the morning when she'd just be layering up anyway. "Hey, Pennsy," she started, digging for her toothbrush next. "How long have you been here, anyway?"

"About eighteen months."

"You like it?" She wasn't sure if she did or not; or maybe she just didn't like her school. She didn't talk to many people outside of her coworkers, so maybe other places weren't so bad.

Pennsylvania didn't answer for a moment, then said, "I've been in worse places, lass. I know a decent gig when I see it. It may not be ideal, or even the worst, but the way I see it is this: I've got good friends, a place to sleep, cash in my pocket, and it's a hell of a lot better than slumming around at home."

Emma knew the feeling. She loved Ingrid, but other than her there was nothing for Emma in Minnesota.

She let him read in peace for a bit while she headed down to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She took her time; despite her bold words before, she wasn't sure just how well she could handle the inevitable sharing a bed. She'd done it plenty of times over the last few months she'd been here - sharing bedspace with someone didn't bug her. She'd been going on a lot of short, weekend trips out of town with her so-called "Korean parents" - David and Mary Margaret Nolan, a married American couple she worked with and lived upstairs from. They were a few years older than she was and had been in Korea for almost two years. They'd 'adopted' her fairly quickly as one of their own and it meant more to her than she knew how to articulate.

The frequency of such trips meant cheap hostels or jjimjilbangs, which usually meant Emma cramming into one bed with them. So she wasn't nervous about sharing a bed with someone, she... She just didn't know Pennsylvania like she knew them.

When she returned to the room, he'd put his book away and was curled up on his side of the bed, nearest the wall. Emma smiled a little at the consideration. "Mind if I kill the lights?" she asked, closing and locking the door.

"No, but the lights might mind," he deadpanned.

She snorted, flicking the switch off. There was a gap between the ceiling and the wall to the hallway for ventilation so it wasn't completely dark, but it was enough to sleep. She stowed her toothbrush away and got into bed. She sighed a little from content: still the hard mattress she was getting used to, but infinitely better than a thin mat on the floor. "Hey, Pennsy?" she asked quietly.

"Mmm?"

"Thanks."

"Think nothing of it, Boston," he told her sleepily.

She lay there quietly for a moment. "Minneapolis," she admitted. "I'm from Minneapolis."

He chuckled. "Boston suits you better, lass. Though - and you may be shocked to hear it - I'm not actually from Pennsylvania. I grew up near London."

She giggled and rolled onto her side to face him. "Nah. Pennsy suits you." She could just make out his grin in the scant light from the hallway. A thought occurred to her. "You seem to know just about everyone in Cheonan. Has someone told you my real name?"

Emma couldn't read his expression. "No," he said a bit slowly. "A few have tried, I'll admit to that, but I stop them. You'll tell me in your own time. Why, do you know mine?"

"Nope," she said, rolling onto her stomach and hugging her pillow. "You're just Pennsylvania to me. G'night."

"Night."

A few hours later, Emma woke up freezing and a little bewildered to her surroundings. There was warmth near her back, though, and she rolled towards it, sighing in relief when her hands began to thaw. She snuggled in close and fell asleep again.

When she woke up properly, the first thing she noticed was the weight around her middle. The second thing was something soft and masculine-smelling pressed against her nose. The third was that now she's almost too warm. She breathed in the smell - it was nice, for a guy - and then her brain woke up properly. She's cuddled in quite closely with Pennsylvania.

And she did mean close. His arm was draped around her, her nose pressed against his shirt; she could feel the puffs of air from his breathing on her head. Emma exhaled slowly, trying to extract herself without waking him up - dammit, she'd been the one to say they could manage sleeping in the same bed without getting handsy, he'd been the hesitant one - but she hadn't moved much before she heard him rumble, "'s early and cold."

"I have to pee," she whispered. "And get dressed. And go do stuff."

"Bollocks," he mumbled, pulling her almost flush against him.

Emma stiffened slightly; her hands were pressed against his chest, ready to shove him away if she had to, but nothing else happened. After a minute or so, his breathing evened out and she was sure he'd been talking in his sleep. Though laying like this - feeling his heart beat under her palms, his surprisingly firm muscles under her fingers - was really nice… No, she told herself. Bad Emma. No sleeping with the hot English expat from the next neighborhood over.

She gave it another minute (to make sure he was asleep, obviously) before she wriggled out from under his arm. She hopped around a bit when her feet hit the cold floor - seriously? A jjimjilbang and no ondol? - digging out her clothes for the day. She scurried to the bathroom with her bag of toiletries and handful of clothes.

Once again, she took her time, trying to drag it out and hopefully Pennsylvania would either still be asleep or he'd have gotten up to take care of his own business. Hopefully he really had been half-asleep and wouldn't remember holding her like that - then again, she remembered how she'd actively sought out his heat in the middle of the night. So the best bet would just be to hope that he was already gone and she could skip out. And then just pray that they didn't run into each other for a few weeks to let the embarrassment settle.

Yes. Good plan, Emma. Best plan.

But the thing about the best laid plans is that they often go awry. When she got back to the room, Pennsylvania was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrubbing at his face as he tried to wake up. Emma flicked on the light, making him protest loudly. "Someone shoved their cold feet under me last night," he grumbled.

Busted. Emma felt her cheeks warm as she dropped to her knees next to her bag and began repacking it. "Yeah, well, someone decided I would be a great teddy bear this morning," she retorted.

She glanced up to see his ears turn bright red - it was kind of cute, if she was honest. "Sorry…" he mumbled, scratching under his ear.

Emma smiled a little. "I would have punched you if it really bothered me. And I was trying to use you as a space heater."

Pennsylvania looked up at her, startled. She just gave him a simpering smile before going back to her bag. He chuckled a bit, then grabbed his bag to go change. Emma remembered at the last moment to change out her memory cards before settling her camera within easy reach in her backpack. She was zipping up her coat and settling her bag on her shoulders when Pennsylvania came back. "So, uh, thanks again," she said, pulling her beanie out of her coat pocket. "For the bed and stuff."

Pennsylvania raised an eyebrow. "Boston. Just wait five bloody minutes and I'll come out with you."

She grimaced. "Pennsy -"

"I told you I'd show you that bookstore, didn't I?" he asked. Emma opened her mouth to reply, but her stomach growled loud enough to be heard from under her layers. She blushed. Pennsylvania grinned. "And I happen to know a few excellent places to grab a reasonably-priced bite to eat that aren't Dunkin' Donuts or Paris Baguette."

As she was thoroughly sick of both places by now, she decided to stick with him for now.

In fact, they stuck with each other the whole day. After breakfast at a cafe, he helped her get a T-card so she could use the subway and taxis and not have cash on her all the time. He dragged her down to that bookshop, tucked away and up some stairs that she never would have noticed if he hadn't pointed them out. They wandered up and down the hills of Itaewon for a few hours, taking in the diversity that changed from street to street; Pennsylvania was very accommodating to how often Emma stopped to take pictures. "My mom's a bit of a travel freak," she explained as they got on the subway to go to Namsan. "We didn't ever get out of the country after I started living with her, but she's got a ton of photo albums from when she was my age. She's been all over, it's kind of crazy."

"And that inspired you," Pennsylvania said. He let the end of the sentence hang, either a question or a statement.

Emma smiled. "A little. We would take road trips around the States during my summer breaks, so I got used to the urge to just pick up and go for a few months." She didn't mention how Ingrid had also used the travel time to help Emma adjust more to stability; she'd been anxious the first few times they'd gone anywhere, too used to packing up and being shipped off somewhere else to feel comfortable with going somewhere and returning to the same place. Learning to accept that she had a permanent place to land had helped Emma spread her wings and fly.

"Did she ever come here?"

Emma grinned outright. "Nope. Man, was she furious when I got accepted here. She mentioned flying out to visit me sometime this year, though, so if there's ever a tall, blonde whirlwind heading your way I suggest you duck for cover. I told her she'd better wait until summer or Christmas breaks, because no way is she doing the DMZ or Busan or Jeju without me."

There was a hint of sadness in his eyes when Emma looked up at him again. "She sounds lovely, your mum," Pennsylvania said, readjusting his grip on the hanging bar.

She'd have to be to keep someone like me, she thought, but bit her tongue. She nodded instead. "She's pretty awesome."

The hike up to the top of Namsan didn't take as long as Emma expected; she wasn't too versed in hiking (though she was getting better about it, as hiking was very popular here - one of her older students had told her he was spending the break before the school year started hiking up freaking Everest) but a winding two kilometers wasn't that bad.

She could have done without how steep it was in some parts, but it was a mountain.

Pennsylvania kept her entertained on the way up, telling her about a brother he had back home who worked for the government. Emma talked about some of the less-jerky foster siblings she'd had over the years, trying to keep the foster part lowkey. The way he glanced at her every so often had her convinced that she wasn't doing a great job at that, but he was good enough to not mention it.

And he was right about the festival, too. Way before they reached the top, where N Seoul Tower was, they could hear drum beats and wind instruments. Pennsylvania only grinned and grabbed her wrist, practically dragging her up the rest of the way to the summit.

There were traditional weapons exhibitions with men dressed in medieval armor, women in brightly colored hanbok playing instruments and dancing. Children ran all over the grounds of the park, playing what Pennsylvania explained were traditional Korean games. Emma kind of wanted to go up in the tower, but he talked her out of it - too expensive for a view you could get right there on the free platform.

She caught him in a few of her pictures - the hundreds of photos she took because everything was so bright against the drab winter day and everyone was so cheerful - standing off to the side of something in his scarf and thick coat and backpack. He'd always be staring off at something else, never at her, and she'd quickly move to capture something else before he saw her.

But when they moved to the viewing platform, the sun started to peek out from behind the clouds, casting rays over Seoul and making the city glow gold in the January mist. Emma must have taken at least twenty pictures - more than enough for a panorama of an already pretty view - before Pennsylvania took the camera from her and pointed it at them. "Prove you were actually here, Boston," he told her, stretching his camera arm out and putting his free arm around her shoulders. "Don't just observe. Participate."

Emma sucked in a breath, her nerves shot to hell; but when she looked at the picture of them she could only see two beaming faces, looking for all the world like two people who'd always known each other.

He didn't give the camera back for a while, taking candid photos of her around the park as she watched the festival or inspected the lock trees crafted from chunks of chain-fence and covered in love locks. She posed for a few too, ridiculous stances or just peace signs, making him laugh and say she looked like their students.

The sun was going down when they decided to take the KTX back together. Emma got a few photos through the window of the sun setting over the rice paddies as they headed south, the reds and oranges and purples reflecting in the water. Pennsylvania nodded off at one point, his head lolling on her shoulder, but Emma was content to just watch the countryside whiz by. She still wasn't used to the bright blue roofs or mountains dotting the horizon.

She wasn't sure she ever wanted to be used to such things.

When they got back, Emma tugged on her backpack straps thoughtfully as they walked out of the station. "I had fun today," she said honestly.

"Me too," Pennsylvania told her, smiling.

Her smile matched his and she had to look at the ground. He walked her to the taxi stand and offered to wait with her, claiming, "I live across the street, practically. I can wait a few more minutes."

When a taxi pulled up and Emma told the driver her destination in her pathetically broken Korean, she paused before getting in the back. "Thanks, Pennsy," she said, and kissed him on the cheek before she could change her mind.

She got into the car and closed the door, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands in embarrassment.

It did make her feel better when she looked back, after the driver pulled away, to see that Pennsylvania stood on the curb like he was rooted to the spot.

(And when Emma sorted through all the photos that weekend and put the best ones on Facebook for Ingrid to see, she couldn't help but smile when her mom commented on the picture he'd taken of the two of them: "He's cute! :) "

It made sleeping alone in her slightly cold bed a little more bearable.)

With the end of the holidays and the regular school year, Emma's workload changed. There were new classes to plan and prepare for, longer hours at work. Contracts ended, people left, and new coworkers took their places. Then the new classes actually began and her workload only increased as she had to do all new testing, learn two hundred new names and faces, and keep all of them entertained and in line for an hour every day. On her weekends she stuck to the shops in Ssangyong-dong, not feeling up to the trips out to Buldang. She definitely didn't feel a little guilty or like she was avoiding Pennsylvania at all, nope.

At the beginning of March, she got sick. It was never bad enough to get out of working, but it definitely dragged her down. She kept herself so busy that it was hard to get to the doctor's office two floors above her school, let alone find time to actually get better. At the end of every week, she only had enough energy to get herself home and put herself to bed for the weekend, hopefully rested enough to make it through the next week. (And she definitely didn't have fever-induced fantasies about a handsome British expat taking care of her.)

Spring was hard on everyone. Between the new school year and the rash of spring colds, everyone seemed too tired to go out and have adventures. Sometimes Emma traded up her lazy, sick weekends alone for watching movies with David and Mary Margaret - and maybe mooching food off of them, because David was a great cook. But aside from a few nights over at Wa Bar, near where they worked, everyone mostly stayed in until April when things started to settle down again.

Their first Friday excursion out as a group again was fairly simple: back down to Cantina. The walk was nicer than it had been in Emma's five months in Korea - spring was finally on the way, with most of the trees starting to bud with flowers, and the damp smell of growing things in the soil masking any unpleasant city smells. She and Elsa walked arm-in-arm behind David and Mary Margaret, listening to the new guys - a Canadian fresh out of college named Henry and a scruffy Irishman named Graham - talk about the upcoming World Cup. Emma didn't know the first thing about soccer - sorry, football - so most of it went over her head, but Elsa tossed in a few opinions occasionally. "I grew up in Europe," she explained when Emma looked at her askance. "This kind of stuff is ingrained in you."

The bar was a little quieter than they're used to when they finally arrived. "Well look what the cat dragged in!" Dylan called from the kitchen. "You guys haven't been here in ages!"

"Been busy," David said as they shoved a few tables together.

Dylan came over and chatted with them for a bit, filling them in on how his newborn daughter was and asking their opinions on his new brunch menu. Emma kept glancing around, trying to be sneaky about it but that ended when Graham called her on it. "You looking for someone specific, Emma?"

She made a face and held out her glass for him to pour her another beer. "Nope."

Still, her eyes wandered to the door every time it opened, hoping.

She hadn't seen him since Seollal. Since she'd kissed him on the cheek and left him on the curb at the train station.

Maybe he'd gone home.

She ordered a bulldog after that sobering thought, waving off Elsa's offer to help her with it and ignoring the raised eyebrows. She tried to pay attention to the conversation over dinner, but the thought of Pennsylvania leaving without saying goodbye wouldn't leave. It's not like he knew your name to find you, she told herself, taking another swig of her bulldog.

But he knew the others. He knew where I worked. He could have tried.

We barely knew each other.

A few people she recognized from other outings slid into the empty spaces at their table, joining in the conversation; they eyed Emma's new coworkers warily, but Henry could make friends in a morgue and Graham warmed up to people quickly. They traded the basics in no time and before long Henry was challenging them to darts, loser buys the next round.

Emma opted for the pool table instead, practicing trick shots while she watched the darts game. Normally she was very good at pool - she'd hustled a little back in Minneapolis until Ingrid got too suspicious of how little Emma asked for spending money - but she blamed the alcohol for her poor shots tonight. Easy points bounced off the corners, leaving Emma swearing under her breath and scowling down the cue for her next shot.

"A little to the left, love," a warm, familiar voice murmured near her ear.

Emma almost scratched the whole table. "Pennsy," she stated, twisting to look behind her in surprise.

He grinned - that same, stupid grin she definitely hadn't been thinking about for weeks. She felt her cheeks grow hot; that was absolutely an effect of the alcohol. She'd seen him in pajamas for Christ's sake. He nodded at her proposed shot. "You're gonna miss by about ten feet, Boston."

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it just gave her the courage to raise her eyebrow and lean on the table a bit more flirtatiously than necessary. "Not gonna miss," Emma told him.

"Bet you a fiver you will," Pennsylvania challenged.

So she leaned over the table, feeling his eyes on her as she stuck her ass out way more than she needed to, and made her shot.

She didn't miss this time.

Emma smirked at him, handing him the cue while she reached for what was left of her bulldog. "Maybe I should give you a few pointers," she teased, taking a sip.

His eyebrows went up, but he didn't object to the idea. That was how Emma found herself with her arms around him, her hands on his as she murmured instructions in his ear before letting him try on his own. If he missed, she'd repeat the process, but keep her hands on his and help him shoot. "Thanks," he'd murmur after each 'help', his eyes burning into hers.

"You'd have gotten it sooner or later," Emma would say, looking away demurely before glancing at him again.

She caught Elsa watching them at one point, the other woman raising her beer glass in a silent toast.

It turned into a real game as the night wore on and Pennsylvania had a few drinks of his own to even out their playing field. Loser would buy the last round. Emma had never played a more tension-fueled game in her life - and it wasn't just her doing the bending and giving eyefulls to whoever happened to be looking. Oh no. Pennsylvania's shirt lost a few of its buttons along the way too, allowing the silver cross he wore to swing free and showing off the hair on his chest.

Emma ended up losing, buying them both tequila shots and pretending to ignore the curiously raised eyebrow he shot her way.

They shut Cantina down, but everyone was too wired to head home yet. Henry dragged them to a convenience store for more alcohol and they eventually found themselves walking back to the noribang down the road from where Emma and the Nolans lived. The group lost one or two of the Buldang expats on the trek back, but from the way Pennsylvania's hand was firmly rooted in Emma's back pocket or the way she leaned on him as they walked said he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

Good.

The makgeolli and soju flow seemed endless, leading to obnoxious rounds of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and just about every Radiohead song in the roster. Emma only remembered bits of the singing - her and David's stirring rendition of "Dreams", Graham's hilarious attempt at "Zombie", Elsa accidentally punching in the number for a K-pop song and fumbling her way through it anyway. She remembered Pennsylvania singing "Lovesong" most of all - the way he'd glance over at her during the pauses, how he didn't try anything over the top to make them laugh. The way he pulled her to sit in his lap after.

The way he tilted her chin to look at him and kissed her.

How nicely her arms fit around his neck as she kissed him back.

Everyone sleeps with everyone else. It's just a thing that happens.

They stumbled back to her apartment, drunk and laughing and unable to keep from kissing each other for more than thirty seconds. Emma forgot her own name when he put his lips on her neck, her fingers freezing up over the keypad that would unlock her door. When his hands gripped her hips, sliding up under her shirt and grazing her skin, she wanted to melt against the wall and have him here in the hallway. "Door," she panted, silently pleading for mercy.

Pennsylvania let up for a moment, enough for her to key in her code and get them inside, letting the door slam shut behind them. Shirts were stripped and strewn around as he stumbled after her up the stairs to the loft, toppling after her onto her bed and kissing her soundly.

Emma wriggled out of her jeans and reached for his belt; his hand stopped her. "Wait," he breathed. "Just… wait a tic."

"Done waiting," she whined.

"Boston, we're drunk," he said and the wind went out of her sails. "I don't - I want to remember this, don't you?"

She sighed, slumping against him. He must have been more sober than she thought; she was just drunk enough to want this more than anything, but he was right. She didn't have any condoms either. "Stay?" she asked quietly.

Pennsylvania kissed her again, slower and sweeter this time, making her toes curl. Damn him. When he released her, she got up and fumbled in the dark for her sleeping shirt, taking off her bra and leaving her panties on. She heard him unmake the bed and went to slide in next to him; he'd taken off his jeans but left his boxers on.

Damn him.

Still, falling asleep in his arms was just as nice as waking up in them. The comfortable weight around her middle, her nose pressed against his chest, feeling his breaths on the top of her head.

A girl could get used to this.

Pennsylvania was already awake when her hangover headache decided she needed to be up. "Fucking hell…" Emma mumbled, burying her face in his chest to block out the sunlight streaming in through her big, glass balcony doors.

"I like your mural," he said softly.

She'd taped up printed photos on the wall during one of her sick weekends, trying to liven up the otherwise bland living space and make it feel more like home. There were pictures from trips she'd taken with Ingrid, with Mary Margaret and David, landscapes from her wanderings around town. She waited for a moment, wondering if he'd spotted the one he'd taken of the two of them in Seoul. "I put up my favorites," she admitted when he didn't.

"I'm honored, lass."

Her giggle turned into a groan; her head was killing her. "You're mostly-naked in my bed, Pennsy," she told him.

She felt him chuckle more than she heard it. "I feel honored about that too, love, don't worry. And it's Killian."

Emma peeked up at him, wondering if her hangover was affecting her hearing as well. "What?"

"My name's Killian. Killian Jones." At her silence, Pennsylvania - Killian - joked, "I thought it might be a little better to have you screaming my name properly, love."

She fought to keep a frown on her face - his grin said she failed. She shoved at him, which made him laugh. "Overconfident claims aside, I'm definitely not in the mood to do any screaming for a while."

"Pity," Killian said. "You do look lovely in the morning light, Boston."

She tried not to blush. "It's Emma," she said softly. "Emma Swan."

The smile he gave her made her melt a little and wish desperately that she hadn't drank so much the night before. "It's nice to meet you, Emma Swan."

"Likewise, Killian Jones." Emma then rolled over, hugging his arm tight to her chest. She felt him mold himself against her back, throwing one leg over hers. "Now let's go back to sleep and maybe we'll see about that screaming later."