Disclaimer: I do not own these wonderfully over-the-top characters.
Crossover: Captain Killian Jones (OUAT)/Detective Shannon Mullins (The Heat)
Shannon Mullins gave the door to the entrance of the bar a violent swing, not caring that the resulting smack against the wall earned her several stares. "Whaddya lookin' at?" she snapped, stepping inside and striding over to the nearest bar stool. Exhausted and in a foul mood from a rough day on the beat, the woman slumped into the seat and slapped her hand impatiently on the bar.
"Whiskey, double." She hunched over, rubbing her temples to ease her worsening migraine, courtesy of the skinny punk who led her on a wild goose chase through the neighborhood until she finally caught and subdued him with a neck hold. She smirked as she recalled his whining and sniveling during the ride back to the station.
"Little bitch," Mullins muttered, massaging her left bicep where the punk's larynx had dug into the muscle. She sighed and knocked back the first shot, wincing at the initial burn of the alcohol. She only prayed she wouldn't run into any former "boyfriends," if they could even be called that after only a few dates. Plus she was hardly in the mood to entertain any would-be prospects tonight, that punk had killed her mojo. She closed her eyes and reached for the other shot.
"Long day, love?"
Mullins' eyes snapped open at the unfamiliar voice, which was definitely Irish and unfortunately male. She turned her head slowly, a proper retort already on the tip of her tongue, but bit it back when she saw the stranger next to her: young, pretty face with scruff and eyeliner, wearing an outfit that belonged in Frederick's of Hollywood. "What seedy dungeon did you sneak out of?" she snickered, looking the man up and down. "You're askin' for trouble with that get-up."
The man smirked devilishly. "Perhaps trouble is what I'm after."
Mullins didn't miss a beat. "Oh, you'll find plenty of it, pop tart, there's more than a few rabble-rousers in here lookin' for a good time."
He cocked his head and turned toward her in his seat. "Would that include you?"
This time Mullins stared at the handsome stranger dead-on. "Careful what you wish for, cupcake. I could drop you like a bag of dirt." She gave him another suspicious once-over, unconsciously clenching her gloved fist.
The man's grin only widened. "Mmm, is that an invitation?" He was beginning to unnerve the usually intimidating cop but she'd dealt with worse than this before. It was the combination of his smile, his eyes, which could possibly be blue, and his unnatural cockiness.
Ignoring Mullins' searing glare, the stranger motioned to the bartender. "Rum." After the bartender filled a glass, the stranger kept his hand on the bottle and gave him a pointed look. With a shake of his head, the bartender walked away.
Mullins snorted. "Think you're hot shit, don't ya?"
The man took a swig from the bottle and gave her a rakish grin. "If you say so, love." He turned toward her and extended his hand. "Killian Jones."
Mullins glanced down and smirked at seeing three enormous rings on his hand, then glanced back up. "I once broke a man's hand 'cus he pissed me off. Like you're doin' right now. Might wanna rethink that, doll face," she remarked, glancing down briefly again.
Slowly, the man moved his hand away, but his eyes never left her face. "I would be a fool to tempt fate twice," he replied, the briefest of shadows crossing his face before his features relaxed into a smile again. "I didn't catch your name, lass."
"Lass?! What the hell am I, twelve?!" Mullins retorted. When the man looked at her undeterred, she sighed, shook her head and turned to stare at her empty shot glass. "Mullins."
She could feel the man lean in closer. "Does that come with a first name?"
Mullins shot him another glare. "Yeah. Officer," she snapped in annoyance. This person was interfering with her drinking plans for the night and she was this close to losing it.
"Ahh, a lady of the law. I do love a challenge," Jones mused, flashing another annoying grin.
This time Mullins flashed a mocking grin of her own. "Then you must love gettin' your ass kicked and handed to you in a jail cell. Your stupidity amazes me, juicy fruit."
Jones lowered his gaze and pushed his tongue against his teeth. "If you're offering, I can amaze you in other ways," he replied in what was almost like a purr.
Mullins couldn't help it. She tossed her head back and let out a hoarse, derisive laugh. "What, you're gonna make me see stars with that Braille dot between your legs? Listen, precious, nine out of ten guys that I sleep with have a different skin color than you and are packin' way more heat then you've got under that chastity belt there. Even if I was lookin' for a little May-December strange, you're too young for my taste."
Jones arched an eyebrow. "I'm much older than I look," he replied, not put off in the least by her derision. "If that's your only objection I would say my odds are quite good," he added with a smug smirk.
Mullins rolled her eyes. Shit. "Nah, I got several more. Brace yourself." She turned in her seat to face him. "First," she began, gesturing, "ya got the guyliner. Then ya got the little dangly there winkin' at me," she motioned to his earring, "plus the rings and the necklaces and God knows what else. Probably got nipple piercings and a navel ring, maybe even a scrotum stud."
Jones sat back in his seat and crossed his legs at the ankles, clearly amused. Oh, ya like that pop tart? Mullins thought, feeling her anger rising again. Suddenly, a flash of metal below his left wrist caught her eye. "Whatcha got there, precious?" she demanded, instinctively reaching inside her vest into her holster.
Following her gaze and seeing her reaction, Jones raised his good hand defensively and fully extended his left arm toward her. "Forgot to mention my little appendage. Apologies, officer," he offered with a conciliatory smile, but watching her carefully.
Mullins gave another eye roll. "Are you for real?! Ya think you're fuckin' Captain Hook?!"
Jones smiled 'that smile'. "Something like that. But please, do continue on with your engaging tale. I was quite enjoying it," he remarked cheerfully.
Mullins snorted and eyed the hook with disdain. "That's another strike right there to add to the list."
Jones touched his good hand to his chest in a gesture of mock reverence. "Just that you took the time to compile a list in the short time we've been together means so much-"
"Ah, shit, you're killin' me," Mullins groaned, turning away and placing her head in her hands. "Get lost already!"
"Tell you what, love," Jones began, swinging his legs back underneath his stool, "there's a way we can settle this difference of opinion in a manner that will be fair to both of us."
Mullins sat up and flexed her fingers, fixing him with a deadly stare as she rose to her feet. "Oh yeah, there's a way, and you're gonna need facial reconstructive surgery afterward-"
"If you agree to what I have in mind I promise I'll walk away and you'll never see me again," Jones interjected smoothly, holding her gaze steadily.
"Ya got ten seconds, pop tart," Mullins warned, punching her closed fist into her other hand and flashing him a wan smile.
"Drinking game," Jones replied, inclining his head toward her empty shot glass.
Mullins barked out a dismissive laugh. "Easy win. You won't last past the first round."
That smile tugged at the corners of Jones' mouth. "Like I said earlier, give me the chance and I can amaze you," he teased.
Mullins paused as she regarded this beguiling stranger. She was never one to back down from a challenge, especially if it involved taking down a perp or, in this case, alcohol. Growing up on Boston's gritty streets and serving on the police force for several years had made her a force to be reckoned with. Having a criminal record contributed to that, though it didn't help her reputation at work. It would have been just as easy to mop the floor with this bloke and be done with it, but she didn't relish another black mark on her record or a night behind bars.
Finally she smirked and resumed her place on her stool. "I roll with the big boys. But I'll play in your little sandbox." She slapped both hands on the bar and gave him an expectant look. "What poison are we playin' with, cupcake?"
Jones grinned and made a sweeping motion with his hand. "Ladies' choice."
"Aww, looky what we have here, a gentleman," Mullins mocked.
"I'm always a gentleman," Jones replied with a raised eyebrow, motioning again for her to choose.
Mullins grabbed the bottle of rum he'd drank from earlier. "What's this girly shit ya got here? We'll use that. Don't wanna kill ya with what I got," she added with a smirk, patting the area where her empty shot glass sat.
"Very well. But let's take care of one other loose end." Jones reached over and took Mullins' second, and untouched, shot glass and held it to his lips.
"Hey! What the hell are ya doin'?!" Mullins exclaimed.
"Leveling the playing field," Jones replied before tossing back the shot and slapping the glass on the bar. As he swallowed, he scrunched his eyes closed, then gave a slight shake of his head and gave her a sly grin. "Ready when you are, officer."
Mullins frowned. "Bring it on, bitch."
With that ridiculous grin, Jones poured each of them a shot from his bottle. "Now, here are the terms. If you win, of course, I walk out of your life forever, regrettable as that would be. But if I win," he paused, fixing her with those twinkling eyes, "You tell me your first name. And I escort you home."
Mullins burst out laughing. "Boy I hate those odds! Yeah, whatever, let's go." With that, they each lifted their first shot. "You're goin' down big time, precious," she warned with a Cheshire cat grin.
They clinked their glasses together. Jones winked at her. "We'll see, love," he murmured before gulping down the shot.
To be continued...?
Please review and let me know what you think! I've already got ideas for the next chapter and possibly beyond...?
