A/N Have a piece! Have a massive piece that was inspired by a piece of country music! HAVE IT. Characters are not mine, but do enjoy.
Emma's phone buzzed on the countertop. She dutifully glanced at it, turning a pair of scissors over in her hands. A scrapbook's worth of pictures were laid out in front of her.
"I'm so sorry, Emma." The text was from Wendy. Wonderful. Emma grimaced and picked up a picture, eyeing it carefully.
She and her boyf—ex-boyfriend had been standing in front of the Statue of Liberty. Emma took her scissors to the picture, happily snapping the man's head from his body and letting it flutter into the trash.
"I didn't think it would go so far!" Another text. Emma reached for another picture.
"It wasn't meant to happen." The third. Emma rolled her eyes and picked up her phone, tapping into it impatiently.
"I don't want to discuss this." She typed. "Leave me alone."
She set the phone back down on the counter and returned to her pictures, hands hovering over the mess. Where was the one from Mary Margret's wedding-?
Her phone buzzed again.
"God dammit, Wendy!" Emma swore, picking up the phone. The lock screen blinked, Ruby Lucas's face gleaming up at Emma.
The woman paused a moment, then answered the call.
"What do you want?" She asked morosely, staring at the pile of pictures in front of her.
"Oh, nothing much." Ruby said. "I just wanted to let you know that Mary Margret, myself, and few others are coming to your apartment in—say, thirty minutes to pick you up. We're going to the Sanctuary tonight, and you are coming with us."
"I am not." Emma said, taking her scissors to another picture. "I am incredibly busy destroying every picture I own of that one particular cheater I used to date. I'm sure you can understand."
"I do." Ruby replied. "But we're coming to get you anyway. Be ready. Wear something nice."
The call ended. Emma set down her phone and groaned, running a hand through her hair.
A clang echoed through the apartment. The scissors scuffed the paint on the wall furthest from the kitchen counter.
With a quick swipe, the rest of the pictures fell into the trash can. Emma stormed into her bedroom, throwing open her closet doors and peering inside.
Her arsenal was relatively lacking. It had been a while since she had gone out with the intention of impressing someone, so resuming the task seemed slightly daunting.
With a frown and a crack of her knuckles, Emma made a blind grab into the fray. She turned on her heels and made for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
It was going to be a long night.
XXX
The lights of the Sanctuary glowed gold and red as the group of women flocked in. Ruby stared up at the ceiling with a delighted smile on her face, laughing as a massive disco ball spun round and round over the dance floor.
Mary Margret, adorned playfully in her bright pink sundress, abandoned the group almost immediately, flocking over to the dance floor and smooshing herself amongst the strangeness.
"Typical." Ruby snorted, adjusting her own crimson silk as she went. With a coy smile, she departed as well, winking at a gaggle of men as she waltzed past.
Emma blinked, and then sighed.
"Yeah, typical." She said, running a hand through her curls. Stepping lightly in her golden heels, she walked over to the bar and sat herself down, staring morosely into the crowd.
"Just a Coors, thanks." The bartender nodded at her and procured the drink. Emma took a sip and grimaced.
Typical. Nothing about this night screamed unique, or life-changing. The only thing that was different was that instead of going home to an apartment with someone in it, Emma was going home alone.
"What's got you down, pretty lady?" A voice from behind her asked.
"It's a bit soon to be getting so personal, isn't it?" Emma replied, turning to face her contender.
The man in question grinned ear to ear and leaned back against the cabinet behind him. Emma blinked, then peered down the bar. Her previous bartender had disappeared.
"Far too early." His replacement tsked. "But not everyone comes in here looking as terribly depressed as you. What should I get you, love?"
"I'm not your love." Emma said dryly, scanning her eyes over the menu. "And, if you haven't noticed, I'm still working on this." She shook the Coors lightly.
"And you look like you're loving it." The bartender said sarcastically. "Truly."
"I'm not made of money." Emma shrugged, taking another sip, and wincing visibly. "I'll take what I can get."
"So I gather." The bartender nodded. "But surely there's something here that's more likely to quench your thirst. I'll even void the beer."
Emma blinked, mouth dropping for a moment. She furrowed her brow, glaring at the bartender suspiciously. The man only shrugged, waiting for her to speak.
Screwing her mouth shut, Emma looked over the menu, considering carefully.
"Give me one of these Apple Bubbly things." She said after a moment.
Her bartender laughed. "That's about as far from a Coors as you can get. I'll do it."
Turning away, he began.
With surprising daintiness, he dropped a sugar cube into the bottom of a champagne class. Practiced ease brought on the lime juice and Calvados brandy, and a touch of charm added the sparkling wine, but a hint of arrogance clung to the bartender's skin as he garnished the dish with a slice of apple.
"For the fair lady." He said with a devilish grin, flourishing the drink. "To the beginning of an adventurous evening."
Emma rolled her eyes and swirled the glass in her hand, watching the sugar cube dissolve before drinking deep. The bartender eyed her appreciatively before disappearing out of sight.
XXX
A minute or so later, he reappeared, charm undiminished.
"I take it you enjoyed that." He said, grinning brightly.
"Apple's not my favorite, but it wasn't bad." Emma replied with a shrug.
"I'll take the small victories." The bartender shrugged as well, smiling all the while. "What's next for you, love?"
Emma repressed a snort, almost grinning. "Give me a minute, won't you?"
The bartender took a step back, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, alright." He said. "But you seemed to come in here with a mission tonight, love. It is merely my duty to assist."
"Well, right now you can assist by bringing a glass of water." Emma chuckled. "If we're gonna play, best to stay healthy.
"Aye, that seems the ticket." The bartender agreed, moving away once more. "It's best to avoid hangovers whenever possible, yes?"
"Absolutely." Emma nodded. She noticed, with startling clarity, that her mood had improved dramatically within only those few minutes.
"You think you're pretty good, don't you?" She asked, pulling herself closer to the bar with a genuine grin.
The bartender blinked. Then, his smile took on a more vicious hint. "I am good, love." He said. "It's my job to sell the drinks, and if I get to know people along the way, well, no harm done."
"Sure." Emma smirked. "Let's see how your skill is with making drinks first before we get to know people."
"I can agree to that." The bartender agreed. "Now, what would you like next?"
Emma glanced at the menu, then traced her finger over a name, mouth curling triumphantly.
The bartender let out a low whistle. "Sex with an Alligator?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You are a brave lady."
"We all have our quirks." Emma said nonchalantly, shrugging once more.
The bartender snorted and turned to find a glass. "I'm sure." His hands moved more hurriedly now, mixing the sweet and sour Midori with ice before letting the unwanted liquid run out. He layered the raspberry liqueur and jaeger artfully. A spin, and the glass was before her, colorful and bright.
"Bottoms up." He declared, watching as Emma took the glass in hand.
"Oh, yes." She said, taking a sip. The drink burned down her throat, but she didn't mind. The lights spun in front of her eyes. She finished the drink with a satisfied sigh, letting the glass drop down in front of her.
The bartender whistled again, taking the glass back in hand. "Impressive." He said with a nod. "Let's have another go, shall we?"
"We shall." Emma agreed. She shivered, feeling her muscles start to relax as the alcohol entered her system. She lifted her glass of water and took a long sip.
The bartender smiled and shook his head, despite himself. "Tell me, lass." He asked, using his rag to wipe a glass clean. "How long has it been since you watched one of those classic cartoons?"
"Ages." Emma replied, rolling her eyes. "Television was never my thing as a kid."
"Of course not." The bartender huffed merrily. "But did you ever watch that one, with the kids in the outlandish van with the talking dog? The Mystery Mansion, or something of the like?"
"Mystery Mansion?" Emma tilted her head, puzzled.
"Yeah!" The bartender said. "With the two characters that never actually stopped eating—"
"You mean Scooby Doo." Emma laughed, confusion abated. "You're thinking of the Mystery Machine; it was the crappy old van they rode around in. I watched that once or twice, until I realized that Shaggy was using marijuana. I got enough of that day to day."
The bartender raised an eyebrow, looking almost impressed. "You had an exciting childhood, I can tell." He said.
Emma snorted, then waited for him to continue.
"Well, the drug addict and the dog had these treats that they always liked." And so he did, grinning all the while. "Scooby Snacks, I believe."
Out of sight, he poured the rum and crème de banana into a steel shaker, adding melon liqueur and pineapple juice almost as an afterthought.
"Perfect cure for the munchies: dog treats." Emma snorted. The bartender reached for a can of whipped cream and nodded his agreement. He turned back to the woman with a grin, shaker in hand.
Emma eyes landed on his biceps for a moment too long. His smirk grew all the wider.
"This is a Scooby Snack, my fair lady." He said, straining the mixture into a glass. "I do hope you're more inclined towards it than you were towards unfortunate pups and their owners."
"We shall see." Emma said, arching an eyebrow in response. "We shall see."
XXX
Somewhere across the floor, Mary Margret glanced over towards the bar. Emma was still there, nursing something that looked like it came out of some bizarre Grandma's drink catalogue.
"Hey!" A manicured hand squeezed Mary's arm. Ruby smiled down at the woman, glancing towards the bar. "Have you seen the cutie who's been hitting up Emma? He's quite the catch."
"I'm not sure she's going to be looking for that this soon." Mary Margret chuckled, taking a look herself. "But he is rather nice looking."
"Yeah, pity you're married, right?" Ruby laughed. "Anyway, I was thinking of a way we could speed along their process. You know, assist the courtship?"
"We are not." Mary Margret scolded, slapping her friend's arm playfully. "It's way too soon, and Emma really shouldn't be—"
"She just got cheated on by one of the biggest douchebags this side of Boston." Ruby interrupted. "With one of her coworkers, too. The girl deserves a break. And that man," Ruby pointed. "That man is her break."
Mary Margret looked between the two, biting her lip reluctantly. "What would we do?" She asked, after a beat.
Ruby whooped and clapped her hands together. "It's nothing much." She gushed, pulling Mary Margret off the dance floor and into a corner. "It's actually really, really simple."
XXX
"What is your favorite drink, lass?" A while later, the bartender rested on his elbows in front of her as the remainder of the bar-going guests clamored around him.
Emma blinked up, her vision momentarily clouded and her head abuzz. "Sorry?" She asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music.
The bartender laughed, then glanced over her shoulder. "I asked what your favorite drink was." He repeated, nodding and scribbling down an order on a pad below him.
Emma pursed her lips, trying to organize her thoughts.
"Hot chocolate." She said, after a beat. "With cinnamon on top of the whip cream."
The bartender chuckled again, though Emma couldn't fathom why. "I figured you'd be a different kind of girl." He said, nodding and passing a drink just over her shoulder. "Always unique, Swan."
"How'd you get my name?" Emma asked, narrowing her eyes. The gaze held less heat than usual, though, and she cracked a smile a moment later. "And thanks. What about yourself?"
The bartender blinked, surprised. "I'm partial to a good cup of coffee, myself." He answered after a beat. "But my mates always joked that I took it like a lady. Too much cream and sugar for me. And, love?" He waved her driver license in front of her face, held playfully between two fingers.
"Cream and sugar doesn't make you a lady. Give that back." Emma snorted, plucking her card from the man's hand. "Cream and sugar mean you have common sense. I only do black coffee when I know the day's going to be awful."
"That what you had this morning, then?" The bartender asked. "Because it seems like the day's been rough on you."
Emma tensed, the sense of ease that had been developing over the past two hours snapping. "It wasn't the best." She said sharply. "And no. I had tea today. It was awful."
The bartender was silent, mixing a drink just out of sight. "It usually is." He shrugged. "I've never been fond of tea myself. But—" He spun away, back to the cabinet behind him. "I think it's time for another round, yes? Something simple."
"Why, are you treating me?" Emma teased.
"But of course." The bartender replied. "It's not often a pretty woman comes in here who is so desperately in need of an alcoholic education. It's a matter that simply must be attended to."
Emma didn't bother to cover her laughter. "Then I supposed I owe you another thank you." She said, grinning.
"I suppose you do." The bartender agreed. "Now, what to make you?"
"Running out of ideas?" The woman teased.
"Never, lass." The bartender scolded, waggling a finger back at her. "Giving you a rest before I hit you with the real stuff."
"'Real stuff'." Emma tsked as she brought her hands up into air quotes. "Sure."
"Oye!" The bartender said. "Don't insult a man's craft, love. It's bad form."
"Give me something good, then." Emma said, quirking an eyebrow. "And I'll stop insulting you."
"Oh, Swan." The bartender graced the wood of the bar with a smirk, his hand landing on the liquid he desired. "You'll never stop insulting me." He filled a shot glass with dark crème de cacao. Turning, he pulled a blowtorch from beneath the bar and set the unfinished drink in front of the lady.
"Because you're having too much fun." He finished, offering her another dashing smile.
Emma's smirk did not diminish as he topped the drink with Bacardi and lit the thing on fire. The other bar goers gasped and oo'd, and the bartender bowed low.
Before the flame had burnt out, however, Emma took the shot in hand and downed it, fire kissed lips smirking wide as the crowd cheered around her.
The confidence in the bartender's face dropped, and he looked to the men at the end of the bar for consolation. The strangers, wrapped in togas of varying shades, only laughed and shook their heads.
"What else you got?" Emma asked coyly, pulling his attention back.
The bartender resumed his smirk and turned back to his shelves, pulling down liquid far more quickly. He poured the vodka and coffee liqueur faster than she could see and placed the shot before her, looking only slightly smug.
"Not bad, Swan." He said, watching as she downed it with ease. "But I certainly hope you have someone here to drive you home."
"I have options." Emma replied, the alcohol making another swift rush to her head.
XXX
In their corner, Mary Margret and Ruby made their move. The black haired bartender shifted at his spot on the bar, signaling just as they had planned.
Mary Margret nearly leapt to Emma's side, pouting as she went.
"Emmaa." The woman whined. "I want to go home, I'm tired."
"We can go home." Emma said, her alcohol-induced giddiness evaporating almost instantly. She turned away from the tender and looked at her friend. "That's not a problem at all."
"But Emma." Now Ruby joined in, coming up beside her and pouting delightfully as well. "I want to stay."
"Ruby, we can't let her walk home alone." Emma said with a frown. "It won't kill you to leave the club early for once.
"Yes it will!" Ruby whined even more loudly, drawing attention to herself from the men at the end of the bar.
Emma growled and ran a hand over her face. "Ruby, come on." She said, moving to stand from her barstool.
"Actually, Swan." The bartender said casually, waiting patiently behind her. "I could call your friend a cab, if you'd like. That way your other friend would get to stay, and then the missus here," he accompanied the platitude with a wink. "Can get home safe and sound."
"That sounds wonderful!" Ruby gushed, nearly throwing herself over the bar with delight. "You do that, can you?"
The bartender cocked his head towards Emma, who, in turn, stared unabashedly at him. She narrowed her eyes at him, frowning with confusion.
"Go ahead." She said, letting a moment pass. "As long as Mary Margret gets home safe, I don't care what happens."
"Of course you don't." The bartender nodded, procuring a cellphone from his pocket. "Then, I shall do just as I said."
"Thank you so much!" Ruby said, bouncing on her toes. "Come on, Mary Margret! I'll wait with you for the cab."
"Thank you, Emma." Mary Margret said listlessly. "And you, Mr.—whatever your name is. Have fun tonight."
The duo departed the club, leaving Emma hanging at the bar, looking between her bartender and her friends with deep-seated confusion.
XXX
"Some wonderful options you have tonight, love." The bartender said dryly, watching as Emma sat down hard at the bar once more. "Are you sure you want to keep going?"
"Absolutely." Emma insisted, her frown intent on making a home on her face. "I've been left by too many people today. Guess we're keeping with a theme."
The bartender watched her carefully. He turned away and walked to the tap, taking a glass from the rack above.
"Then keep yourself safe." He said, returning. Another glass full of ice and water rested in front of the woman, who stared at it, befuzzled.
"Order something to eat, as well." The bartender insisted, glancing down the bar. "I won't serve you again until you have some food in your stomach."
"Then you'll be losing money!" Emma insisted, glowering up at him.
"Barely." The bartender bit back. "I'd rather lose than money, anyway, then have to call an ambulance later tonight. Now, eat."
XXX
A plate of breaded mozzarella sticks rested in front of the woman a short time later. She munched on one, taking sips of water intermittently under the barkeep's watchful eye.
"What are you making now?" She asked, leaning to peer around him.
"It's a flaming Dr. Pepper." He told her, glancing back. "The gentlemen at the bar seem to have the same ideas you do about days like these." His hands passed over a bottle of amaretto almond liqueur and 151 proof rum, mixing them without a thought.
"It sounds good." Emma commented, taking another bite of her mozzarella stick. The bartender ducked his head and smirked, dropping the shot in another shot of beer as he went.
"One sip." He warned her, pouring a shot glass with barely enough liquid to wet the bottom and buoying it in the same.
"Oh, thank you." Emma crooned sarcastically, batting her eyelashes. "You're an absolute gift."
The bartender threw his head back and laughed, and continued to do so as he walked down the bar to deliver the drink.
Emma watched him walk away and threw back the shot, firelight dancing in her eyes.
"Stopping soon would be the smart thing to do." She commented as the man returned.
"That's the first logical thing you've said all night." The bartender agreed, nodding to some invisible woman behind Emma's head.
"Well, I've had such a good bartender." Emma shrugged, grinning as the man fought to ignore her.
"Far too good of one, if you ask me." The man muttered. "It's a pity I'm not a worse one. You'd be far more sober if I was. You'd also have lost significantly more money."
"I'm sober!" Emma whined, molding her lip into a pout.
"You are not." The bartender scolded, passing a bright orange glass past Emma's head.
"Oh!" She watched the glass go. "Can I have one of those?"
The bartender blinked dully at her, his mouth curled into an exasperated smile. "A small one." He said. "Eat."
Emma dutifully bit into her last mozzarella stick as the man turned away, mixing tequila and orange juice and grumbling to himself.
XXX
"Last call!" A new voice shouted, just as the glass fell into Emma's hands.
"Alright!" The blonde cheered. "One more!"
"Dear God." The bartender muttered, looking at the woman affectionately. "This night is full of bad decisions, isn't it?"
"Isn't that the point?" Emma asked, downing her second mojito and smacking her lips. "Alright, one more."
The bartender rolled his eyes and waited patiently for her order. Emma's brunette friend—Ruby, he thought her name was—had come back not too long ago and told Emma that she was leaving, too, in order to make sure Mary Margret got home safe. Emma had taken that as her cue to keep drinking, and to drink hard.
Naturally, he was getting concerned.
"I want—this one!" The Emma of the presented pointed enthusiastically at a random spot on the menu. The bartender moved closer, squinting.
"The Chocolate Pirate." He said, gently moving Emma's hand away from the name. "For your last drink, Emma Swan, I can do that."
"Woohoo!" Emma cheered, throwing her head back and laughing at the ceiling. "You're the best!"
"So I've been told." The man sighed, turning away. The drink was simple to prepare. A dose of Bacardi, chocolate ice cream, some coffee liqueur and some milk. He placed it in front of the woman, watching her carefully.
Shaking hands picked up the glass, and Emma's vision wavered as she tried to bring the glass to her lips.
"Swan." The bartender said, brow furrowing. "You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do." She said firmly, scowling at him. "He always said what I could and couldn't do, and I want to prove him wrong. He doesn't get to say what I can and can't do anymore!" She threw the drink back, some of the liquid sloshing out the corner of her mouth.
Her bottom lip quivered. Setting the glass down, Emma looked away. The bartender let the glass sit between them, staring at it silently.
"I need to find my friends." Emma said, bracing herself against the bar. "They'll be looking for me."
"Your friends already left, Swan." The bartender reminded her gently, reaching out a hand to stop her moving. "I'll call you a cab and make sure you get home safely myself."
Emma turned back and blinked at the man, confused. "But, my friends—" She started. "They wouldn't—why would they leave me?"
"Were you watching me come in?" She added, shocked and far too amused. "That's creepy, bartender. Creepy."
"I don't know, love." The bartender said, aborting a move to run his hand through his hair. "And no, I wasn't watching. I just happen to be an observant man."
"Just, stay put, alright?" He added, looking away. "You need to stay here while I clean up."
"I can do that!" Emma said, bouncing eagerly on the stool. "I've got time!"
"Of course you do." The bartender sighed, throwing a rag over his shoulder.
Time bled over, and the club emptied out, until only the DJ remained, playing the last remnants of a song the bartender hadn't heard in ages.
Emma had rested her head against the bar top at some point. He spared her a glance, checking her breathing, and then turned away, fighting exasperation and a small surge of affection.
"Come on, you silly girl." He said, nudging her upward and awake. "Time to get a cab."
"Wha?" Emma blinked, blurry eyed. "Cab?"
"Yes, a cab." The bartender said encouragingly. "One of those yellow beasties that'll take you home, safe and sound."
"Home." Emma repeated. "Home. I don't have a home."
The bartender blinked, then sighed. "What do you mean, love?" He asked.
"I-." Emma hesitated, pursing her lips. "I don't remember—my address. I mean, usually, I'd go stay with—". She stopped again, taking a deep breath. "But he said that I wasn't allowed to come back, if I didn't want to sleep with him."
The bartender's eyes narrowed immediately. "What?" He growled, hand tightening on his dishrag.
The blonde looked up fiercely through a wave of curls and met the bartender's eyes. "I said no." She said. "He kicked me out."
The bartender's molars ground together, and gently, he placed a hand on top of Emma's. "Wait just a minute, alright?" He said. "Let's see what we can do."
He walked away from a moment, grabbing his companion by the arm and whispering something softly. Emma watched him through teary, blinking eyes. Then, he was behind her, gently guiding her towards the door.
"Where will I go?" She asked, her voice breaking.
"With me." The bartender replied. "You'll sleep at my place tonight, and then tomorrow, we'll see what we can do about getting you home."
"Do I have to sleep with you?" Emma asked, looking up at him with glazed eyes.
"Absolutely not." The bartender growled, opening the door into the cool fall night.
"Do you not want to sleep with me?" Emma sniffled, but the bartender caught a glance of a small smile. He sputtered, almost tripping as the two of them moved onto the sidewalk.
"Ask me that when you're sober, love," He said, after a moment. "And we'll see."
Emma snorted and stumbled forward, leaning heavily on the man beside her. "What's your name?" She asked.
"Took you long enough." The bartender rolled his eyes and shifted the woman beside him, letting her rest on his side as he hailed a cab. "My name's Killian Jones."
"Killian?" Emma parroted. "I like it! Killian Jones—"
"Ride for two?" The cabbie asked, pulling up and rolling down his window.
"Yes, please." Killian replied, using his free hand to fish about in his pocket. "Sorry about my lady, lad, but she's had a bit much tonight."
"I'll keep the window open." The cabbie replied, looking almost amused as the duo stumbled in. "Where to?"
Killian recited his address, and then they were off. Emma nuzzled into his shoulder, eyes blinking slowly as the stars whizzed overhead.
"Oh," she groaned, pulling her knees up to her stomach. "I don't feel too good." Killian groaned as well, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Keep her near the window, boy!" The cabbie shouted, veering hard to the left.
XXX
Emma lasted fifteen seconds after exiting the cab before she vomited, just outside the apartment complex. Killian held her hair back, gently rubbing her back as she relieved herself.
"Oh, I hate this." Emma moaned, whipping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I'm not surprised." Killian agreed, resting his hand on the small of her back as they ventured up the stairs. "And I suspect you'll hate it even more in the morning."
Emma only answered with a groan, and despite himself, Killian smirked.
Killian's flat was on the second floor of the complex, but he spared the girl the inconvenience of the stairs. The elevator swayed gently beneath their feet, and Emma turned pale.
"Hold on, hold on." Killian insisted. Emma leapt out of the elevator and towards the nearest trash can, disposing of her stomach contents once more.
"This is awful." She whined, lifting her head.
"I know, love." Killian said gently, fishing his key out of his pocket. "Come on now. You'll be able to lie down and sleep soon enough."
"Where at?" Emma asked again. Killian resisted the urge to roll his eyes and opted not to reply.
The apartment was dark, but surprisingly clean. Emma grunted with discomfort as Killian flipped on the lights.
"Bathroom first." He told her. "Go and stand by the sink. I'll see if I have a spare toothbrush."
Emma stumbled forward, bracing herself against the porcelain sink and staring into the mirror.
"I am disgusting." She told her reflection, managing a little smirk.
"You are beautiful." Killian said absentmindedly, coming to her side. "You just so happen to be plastered, and happen to have vomit on the side of your mouth. Brush."
"You're bossy." Emma whined, sticking her tongue out at him as he leaned against the doorway.
"You need bossy." Killian shot back.
"I do not!" Emma insisted, toothbrush sticking out her mouth. "I had too much bossy. That's why I left."
"Did you leave, or did he kick you out?" Killian asked without a thought, pinching the bridge of his nose again.
Emma blinked at him, as though she was conjuring a memory. "I left." She said, almost hesitantly. "He brought another woman home, and then I came in—I was so mad, I stormed out. He still has some of my stuff, but he texted me and told me not to come back."
Killian blinked at her, brow furrowing. "When you're sober," he said. "We'll discuss this more thoroughly, and see which story is actually correct. Furthermore, I will be quite willing to find the man that did this to you and thoroughly inform him of his wrongdoings."
Emma giggled a little at his fierce expression as it reflected in the mirror.
"I'm familiar with both stories myself," Killian added, passing Emma the towel. "And I can't say I blame you. However, the nights I went out, my bartender was not nearly as nice as I am to you."
"You're the best." Emma gushed, turning back to the mirror. "The best, Killian. The best."
"Yes, I know." The man flashed a debonair grin that was, to his misfortunate, lost on the poor girl. "Now hurry up."
Emma stuck her tongue out again and spat into the sink, filling it with white and slightly orange foam. Killian watched her carefully as she splashed water onto her face, then into her mouth, then stood upright. She swayed and grinned, looking far too pleased with herself.
"Come on, you silly woman." Killian chuckled, taking her hand. "Off to bed with you."
"Where are you sleeping?" Emma asked, looking at the apartment with glazed eyes.
"I'll take the couch and protect you from horrid invaders." Killian teased, leading Emma into the bedroom and turning the light on.
"My hero!" He couldn't tell if the comment was sarcastic or not, and didn't have time to ask. Emma was in his arms at once, placing a sloppy kiss on his bottom lip.
"Thank you for this, Killian." She chirped happily, nearly falling into his bed.
Killian stood straight for a moment, sputtering. Then, almost reluctantly, he backed out of the room, watching as the woman molested his sheets for comfort.
"Sleep well, Emma." He said, turning the light off. "Sleep on your side, please."
A muted sound of affirmation followed him into the hall.
Killian wandered slowly back into his living room, shrugging off his outer jacket and throwing it aside. He settled onto the couch and kicked off his shoes, rubbing his face with his hands.
Sleep didn't come easy that night, but he drifted, dreaming of blonde hair spread across his pillow, safe and sound.
XXX
Emma woke the next morning feeling like her brain was trying to batter its way out of her head. She curled up into a ball in her bed, holding her head between her hands. A terrible, horrible glance upward showed her the room, with sunlight streaming in through the window blinds.
On the bedside dresser—when had that been installed?—was a bottle of Gatorade and a bottle of pain pills. Emma thanked every deity available and groped forward, reaching for relief.
"Awake yet, Swan?" A too loud voice echoed from her doorway. Emma groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, inhaling the smells of Bounty and male cologne.
"Go away." She growled.
There was a chuckle from above her, and then the bed gave as the man settled down beside her. "I can't exactly do that, love." The beautifully accented voice told her. "Come on, now. You can do it."
Slowly, Emma peeked out, one eye taking in the vision of black and blue above her. Her mind groped for a name, and gradually, the pieces fell together.
"Killian?" She asked, curling her legs closer to her chest.
The man above her smiled, white teeth flashing in the early morning light. "Aye, lass. It's me. You're safe."