"Swan, what're you doing back here?" he manages to say, keeping his feet planted just as they are in his current position.

She shrugs. "I dunno, you tell me," she mumbles, approaching him.

Damn it, she's drunk, he realizes, watching her every move. He shifts on his feet, feeling that jitter inside of him return, haunting him endlessly, the voices in his head are loud and wild, but unspoken. She's doing nothing but taking steps forward toward him and he's starting to lose his patience and his own wits, he's starting to lose his own conscious mind.

But his own body acts on its own accord, and he doesn't push her away when her lips crash onto his. "Bloody hell, woman," he grunts, pushing her up against the wall. Well, there goes any public decency, but no one bothers using the washroom at a bar like this, so he's quite safe that last time he's checked. Finding himself in such an intriguing scenario, her lips taste like tequila, but god, she also tastes like something else, Emma Swan. The way they move in sync, the way her hand falls to the back of his neck, playing with his hair, the way his hands wrap around and under her leather jacket, the feeling of her cotton shirt gentle on his skin, the way she softly moans against his lips - bloody fucking hell indeed.

It's a clash of dominance, seeing who can take control over this searing kiss first. Neither of them give up, his lips moving against hers quite fiercely, the way she she returns the favour. It's a silent plea from her, she wants and clearly desires for him, but this is wrong. So wrong. What is he doing? He's taking advantage of an intoxicated woman, and this is the epitome of bad form, this is not Killian Jones. Hell, he may be drunk off his own arse, but this is still horribly wrong. But he can't find it in himself to stop. She's like some sort of drug, he is desperately hanging on the edge of a cliff trying to decide whether to let go and let it happen, or climb back up and make the right choice.

This woman knows how to kiss, it's literally paling to the way he used to think she would kiss - his imagination is just not vivid enough anymore. He pulls back quite forcefully, catching his breath. "No," he breathes out, shaking his head. "This is wrong, Emma."

"But, why?"

Even with the way her breath is hot across his face, he shakes his head, denying everything. "Emma, no."

"I thought you wanted me." Her voice falls in a way that hurts.

"Not like this, love. Never shall I take advantage of someone like this," he whispers. It's like a promise, some hidden words and messages behind there. I do want you, it declares. You're a marvel, he thinks. I am not going to mistreat or hurt you like this. The aftermath is too bitter for my liking, he believes. "I'm taking you home, Swan. You clearly need some rest - you're not going to remember any of this most likely by the time you wake up from a slumber."

"Fine."

Despite how hungry he is to want to have her, he's half-aware of what's going on, only knowing what his body demands for, not the heart. He takes Emma by the hand and drags her back out to the bar. Will and Robin are no where to be seen, so he pays for his and Emma's tab, and leaves. Supporting her walking isn't too difficult, she can still manage. What is difficult is having her practically leaning against him the entire time in the elevator, and when the door opens with that ding noise, he groans and picks her up - fucking bridal style - and follows the remaining instructions of where she lives. By the time - which is like three minutes of rummaging through her stubbornness to find her keys - he's inside of her apartment, he stumbles through her hallway and into the rooms until he discovers which one in his bedroom.

Now, she's growing arrogant and annoying (she can never really fully annoy him), but she seems to be innocent and adorable at the same time while he - fuck me - shoves the door open with his shoulder. It's a cleanly matted queen size bed. Carefully setting her down, she groans and turns into the comfort of her bed. He quietly laughs at the way she responds to alcohol taking over her body. "Sweet dreams, love," he mumbles, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It's an initial reaction to just leave and go back to his apartment, but his guts tell him to stay and make sure she'll be okay in the morning. He finds an abandoned piece of paper, grabs the first pen he sees, and writes a note.

Good morning, Swan,

You had a rather intense night, so I brought you back. In a turn of events, I thought it'd be best if I stay the night to make sure you'd be alright in the morning. Beside the note is some water to hydrate yourself - best to flush out all that liquor you've consumed. I'll be on your couch, so don't assume me for some robber who decided to crash in your living room and end up pulling your gun out on me.

Yours Truly,

Killian

He finds a glass and fills it with water, reenters her room to find a rather soundly asleep Emma Swan in a complete mess, sets the note and glass of water on her bedside table, and makes sure to leave her room quietly. It's one thing to not disturb her, but another to have to ensure she's okay and falling asleep on her couch - or any couch for that matter - does not ever end well. He drapes his jacket over himself and closes his eyes for the night.

His mouth still tastes like rum when he wakes up.

And it's disgusting and awful because Emma stumbles out of her room just as he wakes up - what timing they have. The light flooding into her living room blinds him the moment he first opens his eyes, using the heels of his hands to rub his blinded vision away. "Good morning to you too, Swan," he mutters, nearly rolling off the edge of the couch. He yawns and sits up, the pain in his neck is very evident and annoying.

"Uh, yeah, good morning," she says back, rubbing the back of her head. "Damn, I had way too much to drink last night," she mutters, displacing her empty glass into the sink. "Thanks for, well, taking care of me last night. I didn't mean to go that overboard, it sorta just… happened."

Does she have no memory of what happened last night? Bloody hell this is going to be difficult. He sighs and curtly nods, stretching his neck and standing up. "Well, now that you're perfectly fine I suppose I'll take my leave now," he supplies, slipping his leather jacket on. In an effort of not trying to seem somewhat suspicious, or different, it does quite the contrary. He's about to walk out her door when she grabs his wrist and pulls him back, her eyes containing a questioning look, searching his eyes, his entire face for a clue.

"Hey, you're acting strange… did I do something last night?"

It's burning under his skin to tell her, to be honest, but he's honestly frightened at how she will react. Killian wants to protect her, and last night, he almost broke that promise completely. He was nearly going to have his way with her, even after everything, how she's the one who insisted, how she started to bring his own walls down after Milah. He let her in, and now it's painfully creeping up on him, and the memory of her lips against his are engraved into his mind, into his damn senses.

Smiling, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. "No, love, nothing." Maybe he will regret lying to her, pretending that they didn't have an entire mindfucking, make-out session by the washrooms - he never regrets anything, really. "I think it's just the rum speaking," he lies, "no worries, Swan. I'll just go back to my place and wash off. I'll see you at work?"

She squints her eyes, her brows scrunched together, the lines across her forehead showing otherwise about how she'll be believing him. She nods and lets go of him. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you at work."

He nods and leans forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, slowly backing away after toward the door, pulling it open and leaving.

It's needless to say that he's just in turmoil, an abyss of emotions bleeding through his mind through every moment he remembers so thoroughly, so flawlessly at the way she was kissing him last night. It's a pang of hurt that spreads throughout his chest, the way he lied just to keep her safe - is it really keeping her safe? It was a spur of the moment decision, god damn it, if he can just come clean with her once and for all… but he can't. It's impossible. There's no way to describe the decision without it implying a selfish-like behaviour. It's all too soon, too fucking soon.

The desire that burns deep within to feel her lips against his again is tempting, real, etched into his heart somehow. Just… how and when has this woman started to take over his life? When did she traverse this difficult maze he's put himself at the end with? God damn this is going to be a long, long week. And Robin and Will disappearing? He is going to kill those two. In spite of all the details being a fresh reminder in his brain, the entire idea of her comes back to haunt him, to tease him, to test his ugly patience.

She doesn't remember kissing him.

He kissed her back. His hands were under her jacket, his lips were against hers in a passionate battle, his soul was somehow wanting her.

It's going to tear him apart - the guilt - it's going to. He'd really like to take a cold shower right now, but the amount of time he has remaining before his working hours states otherwise. He runs a hand through his hair, staring at his wardrobe. He thinks he reeks of rum and bars, and Emma, so he changes his outfit, going with the v-neck and jacket again. He's still yet to wash the other one which smells of Emma.

He needs to stop thinking about her. But, everything is leading to her at the moment.

He grabs his phone, which only has so much remaining battery left.

Killian: I'm going to be late, lass. I need a shower because I personally do not want to walk around smelling like I had drowned myself in alcohol. Would you mind if I was fifteen minutes late?

Emma: No, I wouldn't mind. But why does it seem like you're trying to avoid me?

Killian: That's ridiculous, Swan - I wouldn't avoid you for the world.

Fucking lie.

Killian: I'll grab us our coffees on my way there.

Emma: I'll actually meet you there. I need breakfast, and I'm not really fond of cooking after a hangover.

Killian: Sounds fine.

Emma: See you then.

He chucks his phone onto the bed and groans, shaking his head from the thoughts. The shower (very cold shower) consists of him swimming through his thoughts - hah, swimming - because his mind is literally a screw-over. Reflecting back, he should have just said no in the first place to her. Hell, he should have just lied and said he was feeling bad and wanted a sick day. He's never taken a sick day before, so why should it matter now? Well, technically everything matters. She kissed him, he kissed her back, and she has no apparent memory of what went on the previous night.

Everything was so pristine and different, but one kiss has changed everything.

His life just got a notch harder.

Turn the knob back down a bit, he can't handle this. After Milah, he really hasn't considered loving or even liking another woman that way again. But with the way Emma treats him, that bloody infuriating, determined, strong, independant woman, it's becoming harder for him to ignore all the small things now. Everything's as clear as glass, and that makes him struggle more and more for the air he so desperately needs to keep his lungs working, to keep himself breathing. Looking through her green eyes, the little glimmer at the edge whenever she beams a smile over at him, or even the way she just laughs at his (horrible) jokes, it reminds him so much of the type of person - woman - he likes.

However, being the stubborn arse he is, he refuses to acknowledge any of that. So, it's just a shower, get the hell out of the apartment, and drop by Granny's for coffee and breakfast. That's all it is, yet he's making it a big deal.

Okay, so maybe it is a big deal. It's not the kiss that concerns him the most, it's the reaction that concerns him. What if she hates him? That doesn't solve anything, and it definitely won't solve his current pretend relationship with her. It's another heartbreak for him too, to watch her crumble at the news if she takes it the bad way. But what if he runs that mile, admits it, and she's rather glad than mad? What if she's relieved if he tells her the truth? Why should a decision like this be so hard to make? He sighs and shakes his head, keeping his head up as he trudges down the sidewalk to Granny's.

His hair is still damp from the shower, and the weather outside makes him shiver slightly. But, given that he doesn't live too far away from any of the major landmarks, he manages to get to Granny's quickly without having to feel freezing. He immediately notices Emma sitting at the counter, talking to Ruby idly with a smile on her face. But there's still something wrong with her, as if she's tensed and worried and confused. So much explaining to do, so little effort being made to do so.

When she turns her head and smiles at him, he nods his greeting and approaches her, taking a seat next to her. Ruby has a suspicious glance between the two of them, before she tells Emma something about 'solving the issue,' and then speeding off to deal with other orders. Emma slides his coffee to him, and he stops it with a firm grip, realizing he's acting a bit too stiff and over-the-top. He may have been able to escape her questioning earlier, but he can't do it now.

His fingers wrap around the handle of the white mug, the steaming coffee itching at his sense of smell. He buries his nose in the morning drink, inhaling the dark roasted scent, while also tasting the slight bit of bitterness with some sweet sugar added with the side of it.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell happened last night and stop acting as if you're not avoiding me when you obviously are?" she suddenly asks quite bluntly, finishing her hot cocoa with cinnamon - her favourite apparently.

He sighs and sets the mug down. "Not now, perhaps later," is his his answers, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"At least you've acknowledged that… nevermind. But fine, but we're talking after we eat," she wholeheartedly demands.

He nods quite subtly, biting his lower lip at the entire thought. "I suppose." She seems angry, and that is not something he wants to exactly deal with so early in the morning the day after a hangover. It's never good, and when a woman requests to talk, he rarely finds that they are going to turn out as a pleasant conversation whatsoever.

It's all but a beginning.

She grabs his wrist with a firm grip and takes him up and behind Granny's, into the hallway of rooms. There's no one there luckily, and it all starts but pleasant. "We kissed," he blurts out, shaking his head in shame, "and I was too scared to admit it. Are you satisfied now, Swan?"

"Could have just told me."

"And you're not angry with me?"

"No. We were both drunk, and I actually remember everything - well most things."

He feels a bit of betrayal welling inside of him. "You-"

She stops him, bringing her hands up. "Shut up. Let me talk."

He nods and backs up, rocking on the heels of his feet as he waits patiently - sort of - for the answer. If she knew all along, why was she pushing it?

"I know I had been quite forward yesterday, blame the tequila for that." She laughs softly. "But, I'm not angry at you for any of it. The things I said? Well, it's still a bit blurry in my mind, but I do remember it was I who initiated the kiss, and you who stopped it. And do I blame you for it? No. Do I blame you for trying to keep it buried in our past? No. But, what I don't like is when you lie to me." She sighs, shrugging her shoulders casually. "I mean, long story short, I just wanted to know how you would react and treat me. I was… still over-the-edge yesterday, I'm sorry about that. You were trying to keep me safe again, I'm not oblivious to that fact, Killian. I know your motives are always good, I know you stopped because it was bad form, I know you."

"My sincerest apologies," he mumbles, looking away slightly embarrassed. She knew all along, but just kept it because she was… testing him? Something like that.

"But I did learn something…"

His eyebrow raises. "And what's that, love?"

There's a bit of a reddish colour that creeps up onto her cheeks, and the way she retracts from the nervousness makes him smile. Everything's fine, normal again - sort of. "I now know how much of a good kisser you are," she shyly states. "Makes pretending easier."

He leans in. "I told you I was an exceptionally good kisser," he whispers.

"Understatement of the year," she mutters, and grasps the lapels of his jacket, pressing her lips against his.

Fuck, he thinks. His hands come up to rest comfortably on her waist, and he's quickly backing her up against the wall. Again. Her hand trails down his chest, which makes him groan softly against her lips. This time, it's more tender and real, he can actually soak in the feeling of himself against her. The sound of a door clicking doesn't even stop them, but when he hears hissing and a stumble of footsteps…

"They're kissing, fuckin' hell mate, they're kissing," Will buzzes, smacking Robin on the arm.

Robin jolts up and his head makes a sharp turn to look at Will. "What?"

"They. Are. Kissing," Will repeats, enunciating each word clearly.

"On the cheek?"

"No, you dumb git." Will taps his lips. "Lips."

"Bloody hell," Killian grumbles, sighing as he recognizes the voices. "I just never have good luck, do I?" he mutters, letting his hands drop from her waist.

She laughs. "Now they know how serious we are. I knew they were coming."

He sighs, and as much as he's annoyed that Robin and Will had interrupted the moment, he's glad because now this game they're playing is going to be a lot more easy now that they've seen it for themselves. Even the light laughter from Emma with her statement leaves him smirking deviously, knowing exactly what's on her mind. Everything on his mind suddenly diminishes, so he just starts laughing, shaking his head at this absolutely, unusual encounter and outcome.

Playing pretend has never been so difficult yet fun at the same time.

"You two going to come out of there? You weren't very subtle," Killian exclaims, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, we hadn't known you two were… sharing a moment," Robin mumbles, walking out while he's putting on his jacket. "I'm gonna go-"

"See Mayor Mills? Locksley, you're horrible at concealing yourself from the truth."

Emma steps forward beside Killian. "Woah, Robin likes Regina?"

Robin groans. "Killian, keep your mouth shut."

"Apologies mate, but you wouldn't keep yours shut until I had told you I was having a thing with Swan here," he retorts back, shifting his weight over onto his other foot. "If you are having such an affair, you should be aware that you'll be needing to stayinstead of leave Storybrooke, right? She's already infuriating, I hardly think it's going to get any better if you make her happy and then leave."

"I know, I know." Robin brushes it off, shaking his head. "I'm already considering it."

Emma takes Killian's hand and squeezes it gently - damn it - if he stays that means more lying and faking. How the hell is he going to do that for a longer period of time? And then his mind drifts back to the kiss, the one where both of them were fully aware - like 5 minutes ago - the one where she initiated and pulled him in, the one where he started to back her up against the wall because she's a bloody minx and it just somehow has his body respond to her like that.

Good god, she kissed him - and he returned the favour. Although his mind is a crowded mess at the moment, his eyes don't end up missing the way Robin is slightly blushing at the entire subject. Killian sighs, knowing it's only Thursday, and Robin and Will intend to stay another four days, they either choose to depart from Storybrooke and never return - disregarding visits - or they make the decision to stay, leaving Storybrooke to go pack up their possessions and returning back shortly later moving into some place at some point.

Four days. Four more days, maybe then he'll be able to sort out what's between him and Emma. Everything is so much more complicated now, they've kissed, twice, to be exact. This shouldn't be such a big deal, they're supposed to act like a couple, except it is a big deal, because for so long he's actually sometimes pondered upon the thought of how her lips would taste, how Emma Swan would taste, and now that they've actually kissed, he can't rid himself of the lingering feeling that remains on his lips, or the way her hands went to his neck, or his chest.

"I'd also like to inquire one more thing, lads."

Will slips out of the room and ends up beside Robin. "What's up, Jones?"

"Where did you two go last night when I had excused myself to the restroom?"

Both of their mouths go agape, Killian has an unamused face on, and Emma is trying to keep her own laughter in.

Robin rubs the back of his neck. "About that…"