A weakness for blonde(s), or, In good hands
Because what was that blonde comment about? Post 4.06.
Still in my own not-quite-Canon universe, wherein that nonsense with Hook working for/with Gold is simply not a thing.
Just a short mix of generally aimless, meandering, shmoopy, sweet, sexy, silly stuff with a touch of angsty feels. Something for everyone!
PS: Thanks to all who contributed to the amazing outpouring of support for what was essentially a jazzed-up version of the safe sex talk. Who knew Hook could make such practicality so steamy? :)
Onward...
Emma let the door close gently behind her, reentering the station after ushering Elsa out into David's truck for a ride back to the loft. The night's investigation had proved less than fruitful once they'd gotten as far as Elsa reading the scroll and relaying the prophecy. Nothing made sense, there were no other clues as to how or why this Ingrid had zeroed in on Emma or been able to do it in the first place. And, quite frankly, Emma was sick of thinking about it.
She made her way back towards the main office area of the station, but slowed to a stop to take in the sight of Killian. Still focused, his brow furrowed, he studied the tome of Arendelle's genealogy without even realizing that she had returned from outside.
Emma felt her heart swell and her stomach flutter as his dedication and devotion to her and her family became clear yet again. In spite of the insanity that had led to his earnest researching in the first place, she couldn't help but feel a soft smile creep up to her mouth.
She remained still, quiet, for a moment, studying him as intently as he studied the documents. It was such a weird place they were in, relationship-wise, at least in her mind. She was finally beyond denying how important he was in her life - he is - but it's almost as if they are leading a handful of separate lives together. Comforting Killian, for when Emma's feeling a little a little shaky (emotion- or temperature-induced; both applied). Proper date Killian, perfect for getting her mind off work with surprisingly normal conversation. Partner in crime Killian, nothing but professional and platonic as he helped her tackle all things ridiculous - witches and curses and monsters alike. And racy, tempting, smoldering, sexy, flat out hot Killian for those heated, stolen, post date moments that never seemed to last long enough.
The trouble was that Emma wasn't quite sure how to or wasn't quite comfortable with initiating the transitions from one mode to another. Both, she shrugged, acknowledging to herself as she continued watching him.
Like right now, for instance. Despite Regina's griping about the two of them making googly eyes at each other, Hook had been nothing but the picture of propriety all day long. (At least inasmuch as one could expect from a pirate. It wouldn't feel right to not hear an innuendo or two at some point over the course of a day.) Professional sidekick Killian. But what Emma really wanted was just to turn off the professionalism so she could tiredly melt into his arms for a simple hug and not have to think about anything Snow Queen.
She was over-thinking it, she was well aware. It was just... weird. Good weird (so good...), but nonetheless weird to now have a totally different aspect to their relationship, one in which the touching - the hand holds, the brushes, the kisses, the embraces - was something she could now allow herself to want. But initiating it... Emma leaned against the wall, biting her lip as she eyed him. It wasn't helping that Killian was so engrossed in the heraldry book, still studiously flipping through the pages. It was so much easier when it was him to initiate the couple-y contact.
Emma figured she had two options. One, clear her throat or make some other innocuous nose to signal her return, and hope that he could read her and would just envelope her weary self in his arms. Two, she could-
Well, somewhere in there her feet had opted for choice number two of their own accord and were walking her across the room to him. He still didn't register her presence, so when Emma finally reached him, she bit the bullet, sliding her arms around his torso from behind and resting her cheek against the cool, smooth leather of his still-new jacket as her eyes fluttered closed with a sigh.
She felt Killian tense for a split second at the attack from behind, but he quickly relaxed, lifting an arm over her to turn in her loose embrace to face her. Emma just leaned in closer, pulling him tighter as she rested her head on his shoulder. He reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Transition to couple-y Killian accomplished, Emma noted to herself, half a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"You alright, love?" She felt him ask quietly, the gravelly timbre of his voice rumbling in his chest against her cheek.
Emma nodded against him with a weary grunt, "Just tired," she sighed, still managing to smile in spite of herself as she squeezed him tighter, inhaling that scent that was just him. "Of this," she shrugged, giving half a nod in the direction of their pile of Snow Queen files, "everything. And actual tired," she added, stifling a yawn, "It's late."
He agreed softly, murmuring to her ponytail, "Indeed it is."
Eyes still closed as she held him, Emma was content to simply bask in the feeling of his arms around her, but she eventually found herself with Hook pulling away ever so slightly to free one arm. He reached up to capture a stray lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear and smoothing the rest of her ponytail in place. When his hand drifted forward to cup her jaw, Emma gave him a soft smile, leaning up towards his lips.
They met in a sweet kiss, which, unfortunately, had been few and far between over the course of the rest of the day, given the hunt for Ingrid. So they seized the opportunity, lingering long and slow as tongues slid languorously over each other, teeth giving lips teasing tugs.
When they finally parted, each breathing a little bit heavier than a few moments before, Emma couldn't contain her smile as they rested their foreheads together.
She also couldn't help the smile turning into a smirk as she caught a glimpse of the book behind Killian as she recalled a particular comment from earlier.
"So do I have to be worried about you ditching me for Elsa?" Emma asked lightly with a grin.
Her grin was met by a befuddled frown, as Killian clearly wasn't catching her drift. "I don't follow..." he admitted, sounding confused.
Emma raised an eyebrow, eyeing him skeptically. "Blondes? All the blondes?" She teased.
But she was met with only a half smile that didn't reach his eyes, and none of the innuendo-laced banter she'd come to expect from him.
"It was merely a joke, love," Hook replied rather stiffly as he pulled away from her, seemingly under the guise of closing up for the night.
Emma waited a beat or two, watching as he systematically turned off desk lamps, closed files, making his way towards the door. Eventually she spoke again, attempting another round of the playful interrogation. "Oh really?"
"Aye," he replied solemnly, holding open the vestibule's inner door, signaling for her to exit, but still not meeting her eyes as he continued, "a bit of levity to lift the mood."
Suddenly alarmed at his sudden change of mood, Emma reached for her sweater and hurriedly tugged it on over her head, grabbing her jacket and keys as she followed him to the exit. Killian was already reaching for the outer door by the time she caught up and was able to grab his arm to slow him down. "Hey," she said, a little harshness creeping into her tone as she pulled his arm to get him to face her. "You ok?" she asked, concerned. "Talk to me," she urged, "please. I mean, I don't care about whoever was before... Blondes are your type, I get it," she insisted, hoping to assuage any worries he had that she was actually jealous.
Finally meeting her gaze again, Killian spoke tersely, pointedly. "They're actually not."
Emma frowned, her brow furrowed as she wracked her brain for explanations of what he could possibly be taking about. "Then what..." she trailed off quizzically.
"Milah was dark," he informed her.
"Yeah but-" she tried to protest.
He cut her off. "Do you happen to recall the tresses of the women in the tavern we visited?" He queried intently. "With the past version of me?"
Emma stammered, not having an answer for him, considering she'd only been focused on the oddly enticing task of spending time with another Hook, not on who she'd replaced at the table.
"Not blonde," Killian admitted with a sigh. "Just you, love."
"Then what the hell were you talking about?" Emma asked, now more confused about his remark than ever.
He shrugged, apparently resigned to having to explain the whole thing, since Emma wasn't letting it go. "The lost year," he stated plainly. "I didn't intend to bring it up; my words slipped out of their own accord, thus my feeble attempt to pass it off as a joke. You had no memories of me, Swan," he continued, edging closer to her from across the vestibule, his gaze and words suddenly both more intense, "but I cannot say the same about recalling you. Every day, Emma," he added in a hushed voice, his words nearly cracking in his throat.
Suddenly feeling both incredibly touched by his emotions and guilty for dragging this out of him, Emma felt her confused expression soften as she reached for him, his name slipping out breathily. "Killian..."
"Everywhere I went," he continued, allowing Emma to lace her fingers through his hand, "I was haunted by you. Every blonde lass I encountered, a glimpse of that hair across a room, across a street, I wanted it to be you. Hoped irrationally that it was," he admitted softly, the anguish of the time clear on his features. "So many blondes, Swan," Killian continued, a wan smile finally creeping on to his face as he reached up, using his hook to bring her ponytail to rest over the front of her shoulder, "but none the one I wanted, the one I was waiting for."
Emma's heart nearly broke for him, feeling horrible that he'd felt that, and with her all the while none the wiser with Walsh. "Thank you for finding me," she whispered, pulling him in for a soft kiss.
The kiss might have escalated further were it not for a possibly slightly inappropriate thought that popped into her head unbidden.
She pulled back from him, still in his arms. "Wait, did you..." she trailed off. She'd known since Neverland that he felt something, but still... He'd had a bit of a reputation in the Enchanted Forest - hell, she'd been witness to it that one night. She didn't particularly like to think about it, but she had simply assumed that he might have just gone back to his old habits when they were sent back there, lingering feelings for her or not. "...wait?" she asked, her gaze darting about uncomfortably. "The whole year? You know..." Her voice faded out as tilted her head and lifted an eyebrow suggestively to ensure he caught her drift.
In spite of the topic that might have otherwise brought out the best of Captain Innuendo, Killian was exceedingly stoic in his simple reply of "Aye."
Emma's eyes widened. "But you didn't..." know if you'd ever see me again, she finished in her head. Or if I'd ever reciprocate even if you did. She remained quiet, not having a clue as to how to respond to that. So she pulled on her jacket and turned to the outer door of the station, gesturing for him to head out as she prepared to lock it behind them. How could she have ever made herself wait so long to open up to him?
With her still contemplative, Hook brushed past her on the way out the door, leaning towards her with a low, sultry voice. "Still waiting, darling, if we're dealing in technicalities..."
There was the Captain Innuendo she knew.
Emma felt her cheeks flush, her body humming as she caught his eye over her shoulder as she stepped outside and pulled the door closed.
She'd just turned the lock on the door and was pulling her key out when she sensed his solid presence oh so close behind her. The next thing she felt was his warm breath against her ear, "Perhaps Captain Hand truly is an appropriate moniker."
She nearly dropped the keys.
Blushing even more furiously than she already was, Emma's jaw dropped as she whirled around to face him. "Oh my god, you did not just say that!"
Killian grinned, appearing rather proud of his ability to fluster her in such a manner, and pushed the boundary even further when he pointedly ...readjusted himself before shrugging unapologetically, "I am but a man, love."
Emma's initial reaction that included a combination of embarrassment and incredulousness, quickly faded into the warm buzz of arousal as she watched him nudge the not yet full swell in the front of his jeans. So she didn't protest when he moved closer, backing her against the railing of the small stoop at the entrance to the station. She shoved her keys in her pocket for practicality, and her now-free hands immediately moved to rake over his chest, as his hand and hook went to her hips, pulling her dangerously close.
"Soon, I promise," she insisted, for her own benefit as much as his. "There's just been no time to find a place."
"Emma," Killian reassured her gently, "I've waited, I'll keep waiting."
She looked up at him intently before dropping her gaze purposefully, her hands also dropping from their original position to trace the waistband of his jeans. A subtle twitch from slightly lower than where her hands danced just fueled her further as she admitted, "Maybe I don't want to."
"Love, we've been over this," Hook pointed out, lifting her chin up with his hand, "there's no good time or place without one of us obtaining our own dwelling. And," he sighed, the regret clear, "as you've pointed out, there has been little time to do such procurement."
"I know..." Emma grumbled in agreement, even as she reached to frame his jaw with her hands and pull him in for a kiss. But their lips barely brushed over each other when she pulled back, having caught a glimpse of something over his shoulder.
She nodded in that direction, silently instructing Killian to look at the security camera aimed right at the entrance to the station. Her father wasn't likely to watch every second of footage from every camera, but she didn't exactly want to give him a show either, just in case.
So she slipped from between the railing and Hook, grasping his hand and pulling him down the few stairs with her, to where the Bug was conveniently parked in the direction opposite to the camera's field of view.
Leaning backwards against the car door, Emma smiled coyly, tugging on Killian's outstretched hand. "Come 'ere..."
He certainly didn't protest and wasted no time pressing himself to her up against the car, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss. Sighs and gasps escaped, hands (and hook) wandered frantically: grabbing fistfuls of leather as scruffy facial hair left telltale marks of beard burn on the sensitive skin of her neck; creeping higher and higher up under a thin sweater and tank top so that a thumb could sneak under the cup of a bra with back-arching finesse; digging into denim-clad hips to try to pull the growing bulge within impossibly closer increasingly warm, damp, other denim...
With her hands buried in Killian's hair as he once again attacked her neck, Emma lifted one leg, wrapping it around his thigh in a futile attempt for enough friction to ease the growing tension between her legs.
Only then, when legs began to get involved, did they finally pull apart, panting, lips shiny and red, swollen with fierce kisses.
"Swan..." Killian breathed, a heated warning.
Emma acquiesced, nodding ruefully and releasing her grip on him. "I know..." She gave herself a moment, taking deep breaths and fixing her hook-mussed ponytail, but still overwhelmingly aware of the slipperiness in her underwear each time she shifted.
With one final deep breath, she placed her hands on his chest, guiding him further away so she could open the drivers-side door. Just before climbing in, she asked offhandedly, "Ready?", assuming she'd drop him off at Granny's on the way home, as she often did.
"Actually," Killian began tentatively, "I think it best to part ways here, love, and let me walk, given our established lack of appropriate locales to address the..." He looked down pointedly, "...situation together. I'm not sure I could hand a whole car ride with you in such close proximity."
Emma followed his downward gaze to where he was now obviously straining against the confines of his tight jeans, the hard ridge of his erection apparent as it marked a sharp line towards one of his pockets. She sucked in a quick breath, squirming. She wavered. He wasn't wrong; she doubted if he got in the car with her that they would even make it out of the parking lot. But was that really such a bad idea?
Yes, Emma, bad idea, her rational, non-hormonal side chastised her.
With one more deep breath, she finally voiced her reluctant agreement, "Yeah. Okay."
Killian nodded, looking as equally reluctant as she felt. "Good night, love," he said softly, before turning to walk out to the street.
"G' night," Emma replied, a soft smile gracing her face as she watched him leave.
And before she knew it, she was calling out to him. "...Hook?"
He paused a few feet down the driveway, turning half around to listen.
Still leaning on the open car door, not quite climbing in yet, Emma smirked. "You're not the only one who's relying on their own hand tonight..."
She couldn't help but let out a giggle. Even in the dimly lit parking lot, she could see his jaw tighten and could just make out the muttered "Bloody hell, woman..." He looked to the sky and Emma could see his hand drift down to adjust himself once more.
The terse, strained reply came clearly through the night air as he turned and kept walking. "Good night, Swan."
PS: Holy crap, show, when are they just going to do it? One can only write so much foreplay...