A/N: This is ... just for fun. It's a completely wacky idea inspired by Katy Perry's "Waking Up in Vegas", that one episode of Friends where Ross and Rachel get married in Vegas, and that interview with Adam and Eddy where they said Hook would probably be a good time in Vegas. It was originally going to be a one-shot, but then I realized it needed to be told from both POVs ... so it's a two-parter. The rest will be up by this weekend. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Part One - Emma
What You Get for Waking Up in Vegas

Mary Margaret looked horrified. Ruby laughed so hard that Emma thought she was going to have a stroke.

"Damn, girl, I didn't know you had it in you."

Emma rolled her eyes, throwing a few more things in her suitcase. "Shut up," she grumbled, stomping over to her dresser and picking up her hairbrush. "It's not like this doesn't happen all the time," she said, jutting her chin a little defensively.

"Pretty sure that's only on TV," Mary Margaret said, finally finding her voice, after having been silent for a good ten minutes.

"Whatever, they have to get the idea from somewhere," Emma protested.

"How could you not have told me?" Now Mary Margaret sounded hurt, and that was so much worse than judgmental. Emma sighed, moving over to sit next to her friend on the edge of her bed, taking a break from her last-minute packing.

"Because it wasn't a big deal ... I don't even remember most of that night. We were really drunk, and it was Vegas, and it seemed like a good idea at the time." She blew out a heavy breath. "I've never thought of myself as the type to ever, you know ... I'm not like you, Mary Margaret, I didn't marry my college sweetheart and live happily ever after. It never even sounded like something I wanted. It was never even suppposed to be an issue. It was a bet, and he was ... " Emma trailed off, shooting a look at Ruby, who was grinning wolfishly.

"Delicious?" Ruby supplied with a waggle of her brows. "I mean, it is the one, right? The one in leather who looked like some sort of modern-day pirate? The one you were hanging all over at the craps table? It's him, right?"

"Fuck," Emma groaned, flopping back on her mattress and looking up at her two friends from her new vantage point. "I mean, obviously it was him. But I'm telling you ... it's a blur, I know it happened, but I couldn't tell you how." It was a lie, it was such a lie, but they didn't need to know that. "And now I have to go deal with it, I'll be gone a day, maybe two."

"Can't you just get it annulled?" Mary Margaret asked. "You can have papers sent to him via courier, you don't actually have to go."

Emma and Ruby both shot Mary Margaret a look. "I can't get it annulled, Mary Margaret," Emma said dryly, and Ruby had to cover her mouth to stifle her next run of giggles. "You can't get an annulment if you've ... "

"Consummated?" Ruby said helpfully, in between her snorts of laughter.

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked her friend in the face with a pillow. "Yeah, that."

"But are you sure that you did?" Mary Margaret asked, looking at Emma imploringly, as if she just couldn't believe her friend would do something like that. "I mean, you said it yourself, you don't even remember most of the night."

Emma laughed, propping herself up on her elbows and shaking her head. "I woke up naked in his bed, Mary Margaret," she told her, as gently as possible.

The truth was, Emma couldn't have erased the memories of that night, even if she'd wanted to. He had fucked her like a sailor on shore leave who hadn't seen a woman in months, for hours, and the next morning, she had been achy in all the best ways, sated and marked, with whisker burn on her inner thighs that she couldn't even think about without going red and feeling desire lance through her once again.

She had yet to have an experience that topped that one, and she was fairly certain she never would. Before she'd been able to sneak out of his room, he'd woken up and they'd somehow ended up tangled together once again, with him whispering against her skin that she should stay, which Emma wrote off as him still being drunk, because there was no way that was happening.

"So what does Neal think about all this?" Mary Margaret asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest then as she looked at Emma, clearly not as amused as Ruby was by the whole situation. Emma looked down, picking at a piece of lint on her comforter then. "Emma."

"What? There's nothing for him to think about," Emma said, not meeting Mary Margaret's gaze.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary Margaret's eyes flashed and Emma could tell her friend was getting angry. It didn't happen often, but it was something to behold when it did. "He proposed last night, and he has no opinion about you just jetting off to see some guy you screwed in Vegas three years ago? One that, apparently, you're married to?"

"I told him I had to think about it," Emma said, wincing as she said the words, her face scrunched up as she dared to finally look at Mary Margaret again.

"You didn't say yes?"

"It's a big decision, Mary Margaret," Emma said pointedly, and at that, Mary Margaret laughed, but it wasn't a good-humored laugh.

"Yeah, it is, and one you made in a matter of hours in Vegas," her friend said scathingly. "These things you do have consequences, you know."

"Look," Emma snapped, doing her best to hang onto her composure. "I need to take care of this before I can make any kind of decision about my future with Neal, okay. This thing in Vegas, wasn't even real. Not like an entire lifetime commitment. We were drunk and it was a bet and ... God, we got married by Elvis, for fuck's sake, Mary Margaret."

Now Emma was laughing and after a moment, Mary Margaret was too, and Ruby just looked relieved that she didn't have to mediate any further. "Just let me go take care of this, all right? It'll be done, just like that, I'm sure he's just as eager to put this behind him as I am."

xOx

Three Years Earlier

It had been Ruby's idea to come to Vegas for Mary Margaret's last hurrah as a single woman. Emma really hadn't wanted to go, she'd never been one for gambling or bright lights or big crowds of obnoxious drunks. She could handle herself just fine, she just prefered the quiet.

But something about Vegas had gotten to her, she couldn't explain it. New York was supposed to be the city that never slept, but for Emma, she felt like this was the one. She found herself intoxicated by the lights, the sounds, the smells ... everything about the place. It was the perfect place to stay anonymous, the perfect place to forget about any horrific past you might have, and just live in the moment. She supposed now, she understood, why people wanted to come here so much.

Mary Margaret had called it a night a few hours earlier, and Ruby was busy with some med student she'd met earlier that day when they'd all been out by the pool, so Emma was left to her own devices. She was too wired to sleep, so she found her way down to one of the main gaming floors of the resort. It was noisy and garishly bright, but it felt perfect to her. Nobody knew her here, nobody cared who she was or what her story was. Everyone was here for one thing, and one thing only.

Pleasure.

And Emma could definitely get on board with that. She was no stranger to the random hook up, the urge that sometimes took over, to have a warm, willing body to make her feel a little less lonely for a couple of hours. And even though Emma had never considered herself the marrying type - the fact that they were here because Mary Margaret was getting married soon, had her thinking all sorts of things. Mostly she spent a lot of time trying to convince herself that she was happier, being alone.

Most of the time it worked.

She didn't really know how it happened, one minute, she'd been accepting a drink off of one of the trays the cocktail waitresses were carrying around - she didn't even know what it was, but she thought it had rum in it, and it was good - and then next, her foot had caught on the edge of someone's chair, and she'd felt herself pitching forward, knowing she was about to faceplant in front of all these people in an epic way.

But the floor never rushed up to meet her, instead, she found herself being steadied by a strong pair of hands, and when she looked up, she wondered, momentarily, if she hadn't fallen and hit her head, because it felt like all the breath was sucked from her body the moment her eyes met his.

"Nice catch," she muttered by way of thanks, finding herself unable to look away from his incredibly blue eyes. He smiled at her, the sort of charming, crooked, disarming smile that shouldn't be legal. Nothing about him should've been legal. He was easily, without even having to think on it, the most gorgeous man Emma had ever laid eyes on.

"Indeed," he responded, and his accent, his low, rumbling voice sent shivers straight to places that definitely had Emma's interest piqued. He was giving her an obvious once-over, and while normally, that sort of attention might have made her bristle, Emma was just this side of buzzed tonight, and he was gorgeous, and she didn't really want to spend the rest of her night alone. Especially not if she could spend it with him.

"What do you say, by way of thanking me, you join me?" he said then, almost as though he were reading her thoughts, gesturing to one of the nearby tables. He leaned in, a little too close, but Emma didn't care in the slightest, his voice lowering to an almost husky whisper that had her mind spiraling off in all sorts of very bad directions. "You can be my luck."

Emma gave him a look then, an amused smile quirking the corners of her lips then. "You sure about that, buddy? You just saved me from falling on my face in front of all these people. What makes you think I'm, in any way, lucky?"

He gave her a look, as though the answer should be completely obvious. "Because I caught you," he told her with a cocksure grin, tapping the tip of her nose.

Emma couldn't even find it in her to argue with him, instead, she found herself laughing in spite of herself. He didn't lack in confidence, this one, but then ... he really didn't have a reason to. "All right," she agreed, taking his arm when he offered it to her in a very gentlemanly fashion. "What are we playing?"

Craps turned out to not be Killian's - that was his name, he told her, in between turns, Killian Jones, and he'd just moved to the States - game at all, and he lost pretty much every turn.

"I told you I wasn't lucky," Emma told him dryly, leaning against the edge of the table as she eyed him, fingers tracing along the rim of her glass, wondering what it was about him that made her heart beat so fast.

"That's because," he said, downing what remained of his own drink easily, and before she knew it, he had his arm looped around her waist and was drawing her in closer - and she was letting him because to be honest, she wanted to be closer, "you're all the way over there."

They were plenty close now, and Emma swallowed thickly as she watched his profile, his strong jawline, covered by just the right amount of stubble, the way his brow furrowed just the tiniest bit, as though he were concentrating, those lush, kissable lips of his that she really wanted to feel on every part of her skin ... Emma couldn't help but to stare, and she turned a furious shade of red when he turned his head, smirking at her as he caught her.

"I know what it is," he said then, his voice lower, as if he only meant for her to hear, and it had shivers racing down her spine. "I need incentive." He quirked his brow at her, as if he were contemplating his next move. He leaned in a bit, and though they were surrounded by people, Emma didn't care about any of them, it was as though the whole world were centered on the two of them.

"And what kind of incentive are you looking for?" she asked him, accepting another drink off another tray as it went around, tossing it back easily and enjoying the burn of the alcohol down her throat, pleased with the appreciative look he gave her as she did, taking another drink for himself and downing it with a satisfied hiss, his eyes never leaving her face.

"If I roll a seven on this next turn," he told her, jutting his chin in that way that made her lean a little closer, "you're going to let me kiss that pretty little mouth of yours."

Emma's lashes fluttered, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. This was exactly the kind of thing she knew better than to let herself get caught up in - but it was Vegas. Whatever happened here, would stay here. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to kiss him. "And what happens if you don't roll a seven?" she asked lowly, one fingertip reaching out to trace the silver chain he wore around his neck, pleased with herself when she saw the way her actions made him swallow hard.

"In that unlikely scenario," he said dramatically, and Emma could tell it was all for bravado's sake, because he was just as affected by her as she was by him, and that was just fine in her book, "I will let you kiss me."

Emma arched a brow, one corner of her mouth twitching upward. This guy was something else entirely ... and she liked it. "I see," she said, hooking her finger in the v-neck of his black t-shirt and pulling him in closer, enough that their breath mingled, his lips parted in anticipation. "So everybody wins." She pulled back then, and swore she could hear his frustrated little outtake of breath, and she hid her grin behind the rim of another drink. The alcohol was coursing through her system, giving everything that glossy sheen, but her attention was still zeroed in on him, and she wasn't about to go anywhere without him.

"Unless you don't think you can handle it," he retorted, though his voice was a bit more strained than it had been a moment ago.

Emma simply gave him a look. He reached for the dice then, but she reached her hand out, taking hold of his wrist. "I'm supposed to be your luck, isn't that right?" she asked him, eyes flicking up to his as she raised his hand up, her gaze never faltering as she blew a light breath over the top of the dice.

"Bloody hell," he swore under his breath, casting another glance at her, not looking away from her until the dealer called out,

"Seven!"

Emma didn't have time to register anything, before she was all but engulfed by Killian, his hands coming up to her cheeks as he kissed her in a way that was not meant for any sort of public forum, his mouth slanting over hers hungrily, his tongue sliding out past her lips when she gasped, her own fingers fisting in the front of his shirt as she pulled him closer, the way he groaned then going straight between her thighs, making her instantly crave more of him.

Somehow, she managed to pull back, panting for breath, chest heaving as she looked at him. He tried following after her, to pick up where the left off, but she gave him a gentle push back, a smirk on her lips. "There's more where that came from," she told him lowly, not caring if everyone in the place was staring at them now, "if you keep winning."

After that, there were more drinks, and Killian didn't manage to win another single roll for the next three hours, much to Emma's amusement. She couldn't help tease him about it, he paid more attention to her than he did to anything that he was doing, but at the same time, she liked the attention, the way he kept idly playing with strands of her hair, the way he kept looking at her like she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. She found herself leaning in closer to him, whispering little nonsense things at him, things she wouldn't even remember saying later on, but that had him curling his arm around her protectively, as if she was his, and she liked it. She'd never been anyone's before.

She knew she was bordering on too drunk, but it felt so good, just being free, just being with someone who didn't care about her past, and whose past she didn't have to care about. It felt so good to just be with someone, whose only desire was the pleasure of her company. She would never see this man again after tonight, so she might as well enjoy it while it lasted, because she knew, nights like this, didn't come around more than once or twice in a life.

"You're a bloody tease you know that?" he told her sometime later, after she'd nipped playfully at his earlobe, humor and liquor slurring his words as he looked over at her, a light in his too-blue eyes that denoted something more than just physical lust, but Emma was able to play it off easily as too much to drink. They'd both had too much, and yet Emma didn't feel the slightest bit worried about what might happen. She had known from the moment she'd seen him, she'd be leaving with him. "Somehow you've bewitched these dice."

Emma shook her head, laughing as she leaned forward, dropping her voice once again. "Don't you think, if I could do that, I'd be a very rich woman right now?"

"Who's to say that you aren't? Perhaps this is just what you do for fun on weekends, find some hapless sod to make your willing slave for a night."

Emma arched a brow at that, leaning forward as her eyes lit up. "Now, there's an idea I can get behind," she whispered, letting her fingertips trail over the back of his hand and forearm. "Win this roll ... or you have to do whatever I say, for the rest of the night."

"Hell, if he's not interested, I'll volunteer." The man sitting across from them at the table let out a laugh. "Buddy, if I were you, I would marry this girl on the spot," he told Killian with a knowing chortle.

Emma rolled her eyes and leaned away from Killian for a moment, just long enough to reach for her drink again, her fingers fumbling a bit, sloshing a bit of the amber liquid over the side as she grabbed it. She looked back at Killian, expecting him to have the same amused look on his face, but seeing something wholly different there instead.

"All right then, lass, you're on," he said slowly, standing up to his full height, leaning over her in a way that had her heart racing and a jolt of lust spiking through her. "If I lose this roll, I'm yours, for as long as you want me, I'll do whatever you say ... but if I win ... " He smirked, casting a glance back at the "helpful" man sitting there who gave him an approving nod and a thumbs-up.

Emma downed the rest of her drink, her eyes never leaving Killian's, her adrenaline pumping, and her need to never back down from a challenge at full force within her then. He'd had terrible luck all night, the odds were definitely in her favor on this one.

She never thought he'd actually win.

xOx

The good thing about her job as a bailbonds person was that it made tracking people pretty damn easy. The bad thing was ... it made tracking people pretty damn easy. The train ride from Boston to Philly wasn't nearly long enough for Emma to screw up her courage enough for this. No matter how many times she told herself it didn't matter, she knew that it did. She knew there was a reason she couldn't tell Neal yes, and that reason was some stupid, drunken, dumbass thing she'd done in Vegas that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about since.

She could've backed out at any time and she knew it. There was nothing, anywhere, that said she had to go along with that bet they'd made. The thing was that she'd wanted to. Emma Swan, not the marrying type, had figured it would never happen for her the way it happened for Mary Margaret. But she'd grown up alone and unloved and unwanted, and for one night, she got to be somebody's wife. And he hadn't treated her like some random girl he picked up along the way, when she was with him, she'd felt ...

Something she'd never felt even when she was with Neal.

It was so stupid, and Mary Margaret was right ... all of her actions had consequences, and this one especially. She had a guy who wanted to start an actual life with her, who wanted to be part of her future, and all she could think about was this guy from one night of her life, three years ago.

She had managed to almost convince herself that the night was a blur, and she barely remembered any of it ... but the truth was that she remembered everything. She wished she didn't. She wished she could write it off as some dumb, drunken thing, and have him sign the papers, and be on her way, back to the life that was waiting for her.

But what if she was making a mistake?

She sighed, pressing her head against the cool glass of the window of the taxi that was taking her to the last known address for one Killian Jones. Maybe there were lots of Killian Joneses, and this would be the wrong one.

She'd spent the better part of the afternoon after arriving in Philadelphia, wondering if she should use the number she'd found for him and call before she just showed up at his door. But every time she'd picked up the phone and started to dial, she'd had to hang up again.

What if he didn't remember her? They'd both been so drunk, even the next morning ... just because she remembered everything didn't mean that he did. Or that he wanted to. He might have a life of his own and she could just be a big complication to all of that.

All the more reason to be done with this, once and for all.

The taxi pulled up in front of a modest apartment building on the outskirts of Philadelphia, in a rundown, but still nice, neighborhood. Emma paid the driver and climbed out of the cab, looking down at the little piece of paper that she'd scribbled his address down on. Apartment 311B.

The building didn't have a doorman, or security, so Emma was able to go inside and take the elevator to the third floor with no issue. Her heart was pounding as she stood outside the door, and she raised her hand four different times to knock before she actually did.

She heard a dog barking on the other side of the door and smiled a bit. He seemed like the type to have a dog. Well, what little she knew of him. He seemed like a dog person.

God, this was insane.

She waited an interminable amount of time before she heard someone shouting on the other side, and the barking ceased. She heard the sound of a deadbolt being undone, and she wondered if it was too late to turn around and head off in the other direction and forget about the whole thing. Surely there was some other way around this. Surely drunken weddings in Vegas wouldn't really hold up ...

The pretty, curvy brunette who opened the door and gave Emma a pretty chilly once-over was not at all what she had expected, and she wasn't sure if the rush of air that escaped her lungs then was from relief or ... disappointment. She checked her paper again. This was definitely the right place. Which meant that this was ...

"I'm sorry to bother you, I'm looking for Killian?" Emma said, finding her voice, and glad that it sounded a lot steadier than she actually looked.

The woman's expression didn't change as she continued sizing Emma up. "And who the hell are you?"

"I'm ... " She hadn't really thought of a good cover story, to be honest, she had only expected to be talking to him. "I'm an ... an old friend. He may not even remember me, I was just in town and ... wanted to say hi."

"I can tell him you stopped by when he gets home from work," the brunette said, even though Emma was pretty damn certain that message would never reach Killian's ears. "What's your name?"

Emma sighed. "Emma. My name's Emma and I just ... "

"Emma?" The other woman's brows went up. "You're Emma?" She rolled her eyes, exhaling heavily. "Shit."

Emma's heart rate had picked up exponentially. "I'm sorry ... I don't ... "

"He works down the street, at the pub called O'Malley's. He'll be there til after midnight, and you should probably go now, before it gets busy, if you want a chance to actually talk to him." She gave Emma another look. "I guess you finally came to do the right thing, huh? It's about fucking time, maybe now he'll ... " She shook her head, a disgusted look on her face. "Look, you know where he's at, and I don't have anything else to say, so ... "

Emma could tell she was being dismissed, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what had just happened. "Thanks for your help," she said, even though the door was already closing in her face.

Brow furrowed, she made her way out of the building, stopping one of the tennants who was just entering to ask them if they knew how far O'Malley's was. "Oh, you can't miss it, it's just one block over, on the corner, it'll take you five minutes to get there." She nodded her thanks and headed off, still confused and feeling a knot of ... something forming in her stomach.

The pub was easy to find with it's green awning and bright neon shamrock in the window. Emma pushed open the door, a little bell jangling as she did, and she gave her eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light inside. There was only one other customer, an older man sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and watching a rerun of some old 70s game show on a beat up old TV in the corner.

"Be right out!" called a voice from the back, and Emma's heart clenched in her chest. She might've been drunker than she'd ever been, she might've played it off as something she barely remembered ... but she knew that voice. That voice had been haunting her dreams for three goddamn years.

Emma nodded a smiled a bit at the old man as she made her way to the bar, sitting down on one of the empty barstools. She pulled her satchel up onto her lap, her fingers toying with the clasp, trying to decide the best way to go about giving him the papers - outright? After some small talk?

Though what the hell could they possibly have to talk about?

The door leading to the back area of the bar swung open and Emma's head jerked up, her eyes taking in the sight of him. It was absurd. She'd spent one night with him, three years ago, and yet, she could vividly remember every detail of his body, the way he moved, the words he said, everything.

Coming here had been a mistake. She moved quickly, setting the documents from her satchel down on the counter and climbing off the barstool, in hurry to be out of there before he saw her. He'd see the papers, he'd know. Her foot caught on the edge of one of the chairs and she felt herself pitching forward, and the oddest sense of deja vu washed over her, intensified tenfold when she felt strong hands reaching out, steadying her and pulling her upright.

"Nice catch," she muttered, without realizing what she was saying until she looked up and her eyes met his. He looked exactly the same as he'd looked that night ... though, without the alcohol coursing through her, she could definitively say that he was the best looking man she'd ever seen.

"Emma?" he said, his voice almost an awed whisper. It was almost enough to break her and she had no idea why.

"Hey," she said lamely, biting her lip as she took a step back, trying to put some distance between them, so she could think. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that with him so close.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and Emma looked back over to the bar, where she'd set the documents. She walked over and picked them up, holding them out for him as she approached once more.

"I came to bring you these," she said, and she noticed that her hands were shaking as she waited for him to take them. "It shouldn't have taken three years and I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I thought it would be better if I brought them in person and ... "

"Divorce papers?" Killian asked, thumbing through the file as he looked back up at her, his expression confused.

"Yeah, I mean, I was gonna have them write up an annulment but you can't get one if you've ... "

"Consummated?" His brow went up, that damned smirk on his lips, and Emma tried to ignore the way it affected her, even now. "You were quite the screamer, if my memory serves."

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to block out the images of his head between her thighs, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to bring her to the brink of oblivion over and over again, trying not to remember the way his hair had felt, slipping through her fingers as she'd tugged at it, crying out his name til she was hoarse as he'd made her come so many times she'd lost count, and that was all before he'd even fucked her properly ...

Her eyes snapped open and she clenched her fists at her side. She clamped her mouth into a thin line before she could start gaping at him for making comments like that. She crossed her arms in front of her, determined to keep her distance, to not let him get too close. "Look, I don't even remember that night, I just need you to sign the damn papers. This is a complication that my life does not need right now, okay? You definitely have to want to have this put behind you, right?"

"Right," he said, and his jaw was clenched tight then. "If you don't mind, I'd like to look these over before I sign anything ... have my lawyer look at them. How long are you in town for? You don't ... live here, do you?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I don't, and I'm only here until tomorrow night, so if you could get this dealt with quickly I'd really appreciate it." She turned to head toward the door, she didn't want to be here any more, she didn't want to be talking to him any more. This was all just such a mistake.

"Where are you staying? I'll drop them off tomorrow after I've signed them."

She turned, her hand on the door handle. "I'm not going to tell you where I'm staying," she said. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why? Afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me if I show up?" Killian asked, that smug grin on his face that she remembered so well from all those years ago. She had the urge to smack him. Or kiss him.

And neither one of those was a good idea.

She gritted her teeth. "Just sign the fucking papers, Killian. I don't have time for this. I have a life to get back to and I have no desire to get in the way of yours. I'll meet you back here tomorrow at noon. Just have them signed, all right?" Without waiting for him to respond, she yanked open the door and hailed the first cab she saw, giving him the address to her hotel.

She most definitely did not look out the rearview mirror to see if he was watching her leave. (He wasn't. And she didn't care.)