KILLIAN

Killian kept pointing desperately at the explanation that he carefully wrote out on the paper, but poor Victor was having none of it. Deep down, Victor was not a bad guy, he just covered up his loneliness with a rampant sex addiction. Killian had his own dark period and had been in a similar rut, connecting bodies without making real connections. That had ended for him months before even meeting Emma (with just the very thought of her from her texts) so he could overlook a lot on Victors part, including his misplaced enthusiasm.

And an ass grab.

And when Emma was not looking, a lunge for a kiss, which landed somewhere near Killians cheek as he backed away, almost in time. In addition who knew Victor was so handsy?

They needed Victors help and he did not want to hurt him. He gestured again to Victor, trying to mime it out, the danger, them running, needing help, not love and Gold listening.

Victor cocked his head to the side suddenly, and Killian watched an idea enter his mind. Yes! Killian thought, congratulating himself for his brillance, Victor finally gets it, he finally understands...

To which then Victor began to undress. To invisible music that apparently only Victor could hear...

Bloody hell. Watching Victor start his strip dance was a little much, even for Killian's sympathy. And definitely too much for his stomach, as he failed to stop, despite Killians silent pleas until he was fully naked.

And Killian, just like that crappy porno, looked, not being able to help himself, as Victor, clearly very excited, decided to whip it around like a lightsaber. Killian loved Star Wars, but no way was he engaging in this battle of swords...

Besides, he thought to himself, it would hardly be a fair fight with his weapon so much larger...

He breathed a sigh of relief when Emma reappeared, three glasses of whiskey in her hands. She handed them a glass, and Victor downed it quickly, but the temptation of Emma in that outfit was too much and he lunged for her, grabbing at her breast.

Killian did not even have a chance to react before Victor, turned victim, and was out cold on the floor, spread eagle, the light saber turning off just like the light in the lamp Emma smashed him with.

She was a tough lass, and damn, he liked that about her.

He hated Whiskey, being a rum man himself, so he downed his own drink, grateful for the numbing effects of alcohol. It tasted a little strange, bitter almost, but it was cheap whiskey, so he shrugged it of as a casualty of choosing an inferior type of liquor.

They began pillaging Victor home for essentials, which to him meant money, a cell phone, car keys and clothing. To Emma it meant Oreo cookies, and after a strange wistful, then disgusted look at Victors couch apparently included two pillows, a blanket, a bottle of red wine, cheezies and (groan) two bottles of his shampoo.

When they were finally out of the apartment, Emma looked so ridiculously adorable in Victors oversized sweat pants and T-shirt he could not help but spin her suddenly, pinning her to the hallway, nipping at her lips and kissing her breath away. After the last 45 minutes without making noise he shivered in pleasure at the sound of her moan as he became a little handsy himself, Victors naked form long forgotten.

He moaned himself when he discovered under her clothing her contraption was missing, as his hands under her shirt encountered nothing but her bare flesh.

"Futon..." she cried, and how that word, of all things somehow seemed the sexiest word, given what that actual piece of furniture looked like.. She was obsessed with getting her money's worth out of that item...and the stolen bedding at the last minute (with a sniff test for cleanliness sake) suddenly made WAY more sense to Killian.

"Emma where is your underwear?"

"I left them inside...It hurt"

"Is leaving your used, sexy nickers behind in Victors apartment really a good idea?"

He laughed when she realized suddenly what Victor might do them, dashing back in for them at a shocking speed, and he had seen the woman run for her life for crying out loud.

They snuck out the back way, finding his car by hitting the alarm, Emma insisting on driving.

As she drove towards the flat (my God, she was going to kill them by confusing the side of the road) he located David's number using the Internet on Victors phone and dialled.

"Hello, Mary Margaret can I help you?"

"I am looking for David Nolan"

"I am sorry but he is on business to London, a sick friend" The woman sounded kind but was a terrible at lying.

"A sick friend named Killian?"

"Is this Killian, Killian Jones?" He could almost hear her heart pound through the phone;

" Yes"

"Oh thank god, you are still alive" he could hear the woman breath out her relief "He is on his way to help... I will tell you what I know..."