Emma took one last look in the restroom mirror before she headed back out into the bar. She had to admit; she looked good, damn good. Surprisingly, she felt as good as she looked.
At twenty-six (today), Emma Swan felt like she finally had her life together, or at least well on its way. A little over five months ago, she'd kicked her dead beat, philandering boyfriend to the curb and moved in with great friends who supported and encouraged her to follow her dreams. Dreams that included landing a great role on stage, finally putting that theatre arts degree to good use.
Her roommates, Elsa and Anna Dell, as well as her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, had been relentless in their encouragement and belief that she had what it took to make her dreams come true, which led to her having the confidence to go on that audition in the first place. An audition that landed her a great role in a new and instantly successful show in an illustrious theatre troupe. Now, she was living the dream. Making money as an artist, and doing what she loved with people she loved and who loved her back.
It felt so good to finally be in a place in her life where she felt she belonged. Emma Swan never thought she'd have that. Growing up for most of her childhood in foster care, she was thankful that the Nolans had taken her in long-term in her teens. However, even though she had experienced a permanency with them, and still had a strong bond with her foster brother, David, it hadn't been home. Not really. She wasn't even sure what home felt like. Probably a place that was comfortable and safe; a place that when you left it you'd just… miss it.
The closest she ever felt to anything like that was when she was on the stage. Maybe that's because she didn't have to be herself. She could hide behind another persona, using it like protective armor while pretending to be someone else. That armor got her through high school and then college, but it wasn't until she had met her roommate, Elsa, that she realized the stage wasn't really a home. It was a citadel. A place she had, indeed, been hiding.
Elsa was a kindred spirit. Having lost her parents at a young age, she understood walling yourself up behind fortified facades. While Emma had hid behind her characters, Elsa had hid herself behind an icy exterior. Together, with the help of Anna, David, and Mary Margaret, they had worked to free themselves of their armor. Emma wasn't completely there yet, but she'd never been in a better place.
She couldn't remember ever celebrating a birthday where she felt only promise and hope for her future. She had great friends, a great place to live, and an amazing job in a role that highlighted her acting, singing and dancing. Her performances so far had garnered terrific reviews, not only for herself, but the entire cast and crew. It was looking like this could be her big break.
Plus, the role had gotten her back into shape. A shape she was showing off tonight in her new smokin' hot, red dress. Exposing a tantalizing amount of cleavage and a whole lot of leg, the outfit, which had been picked out by another good friend, Ruby, made her feel like she could stop traffic. Which is exactly how one should feel on their birthday, right?
With one last look, she shook out her long, blonde hair and swept it behind her shoulders, allowing it to cascade freely down her back. Exiting the restroom, she headed toward the corner booth in the back where she left her friends to tab out. Per usual, there was a line by the bar as patrons waited for a table to open up, an every man for himself endeavor most nights.
Speaking of men.
Entrenched in the mob of waiting hopefuls were three delicious looking specimens, each dressed in black leather jackets and indecently tight jeans. They scanned the room as they decided whether or not to cut their losses and go elsewhere, or wait it out. Emma had never seen them before, and she knew pretty much everyone who frequented Wonderland bar.
The first man was the fairest of the three, with lighter hair that was nearly parted down the middle and swept to one side. He had the beginnings of a beard, and Emma noticed as he removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, he also sported a medieval style lion tattoo on his forearm.
The second man was much shorter than the first, with darker hair that was buzz cut. With thick brows and a clean shaven face, he had an air of mischief about him that made Emma smile. He's the troublemaker of the group, she thought to herself with a laugh.
The final man, though. Oh, boy. Talk about trouble. Not quite as tall as the first man, he was all smolder with a dash of danger. Thick, nearly raven colored hair fell across his forehead. He attempted to sweep it back off his face, causing the already mussed mane to become even more attractively tousled. His thick, expressive brows and chiseled jaw, dusted with a light scruff and ticking ever so slightly, exposed his impatience with their current predicament.
He turned in her direction to scan the other side of the bar and she was able to appreciate the luscious amount of chest hair displayed by the open collar and several undone buttons of his shirt. Refocusing her attention to his face again, now being able to appreciate him full on instead of profile, made her gasp.
Holy shit, those eyes! Those can't be natural, right?
Vivid blue and lined with a generous amount of eyeliner, she couldn't pull her gaze away from his eyes. Emma Swan did not swoon, but there's a first time for everything, right?
A moment later, those forget-me-not eyes met hers and she was rooted to her spot as she watched them scan her appreciatively from top to bottom, sending a swell of heat through her. Meeting her eyes a second time after his intense perusal, he popped an eyebrow and sent her a sinfully inviting grin that made her skin tingle.
He might have knocked her off kilter, but Emma was not about to allow him the upper hand in this silent, seduction stare off they had found themselves in. Tossing her blonde curls once more over her shoulder, she approached the trio with a bright smile and a little more sway in her hips than usual.
"Hey, there," she greeted Lion Tattoo Guy. "If you guys are wanting a table, my friends and I are about to leave. You can come snag ours."
She caught a brief flash of disappointment on Hot Guyliner's face before turning and leading the appreciative group to the back of the bar.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret called out, putting her jacket on as she and Elsa stood from the booth. "August said you had to tab out at the bar."
"Of course he did," Emma muttered, knowing very well what August, co-owner and bartender of Wonderland, was up to.
"Do you want us to wait on you?"
Emma pulled her friends to the side so the gentlemen she'd escorted back could claim the booth before anyone else pounced on it. "No, it's fine," she waved off. "I'll have Graham see me home. You both have early days tomorrow, you should go."
Emma accepted a kiss on the cheek from both of her friends and watched them head out before turning back to the booth, now being cleaned off for the three men sitting there.
"Enjoy your evening, gentlemen."
A deep chorus of thank yous followed her when she turned to head towards the bar, and she had to fight the compulsion to look over her shoulder to see if a certain pair of blue eyes were watching her depart.
"Ah! The birthday girl!" August announced a little louder than necessary. "You didn't really think we'd let you leave without a song first, did you?"
It was tradition at Wonderland to sing for the patrons on one's birthday. The bar was known as a place where performers hung out, to the point where every night was something of an open mic night, with a karaoke mic and screen at the ready on stage.
A binder was dropped on the bar in front of her with a loud thud as it's deliverer slid onto a barstool. "You know the drill," Jefferson, Wonderland's other owner, quipped, giving her an expectant look.
Emma sighed and began flipping through the list of songs, becoming slightly distracted when Ruby came up to put in the order for the corner booth. Glancing over her shoulder, Emma's teeth sank into her bottom lip while she looked Hot Guyliner over as he conversed with his friends. A song choice began to form in her mind and she turned back to the binder to make sure it was an option.
"This one," Emma stated, pointing to her selection.
Jefferson pulled the binder back towards him. "Nice choice," he said, smiling at her as he stood. "I'll go get it queued up."
Wetting her lips, Emma took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of her dress before turning to face the stage. Jefferson gave her a nod, then began his intro as she made her way up the steps.
"Ladies and Gents!" he announced. "Tonight, Wonderland is proud to celebrate a very special event with a very special lady. Give it up for our very own Emma Swan, who has turned the ripe old age of twenty-six today!" Jefferson's chuckle crackled over the mic after Emma smacked him on the shoulder. "As is tradition, Miss Swan will now grace us with her fantastic voice, singing Kelly Clarkson's Heartbeat Song!"
Applause and a few enthusiastic whistles rang out as Emma dove into the song, feeding off the enthusiasm of the crowd while flicking her eyes to the corner booth during a few key lyrics.
"You, where the hell did you come from?
You're a different, different kind of fun
And I'm so used to feeling numb."
Hot Guyliner grinned, his smoldering eyes tracking her when she made her way down the stage steps to interact with the crowd.
"I, I wasn't even gonna go out
But I never would have had a doubt
If I'd have known where I'd be now"
Spying one of her cast mates, Emma slinked onto his lap and mussed his hair, all the while keeping her eyes trained over his head at the blue gaze blazing back at her.
"Your hands on my hips
And my kiss on your lips
Oh, I could do this for a lifetime"
"This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it
Been so long I forgot how to turn it up up up up all night long
Oh, up, up all night long
This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it
Turned it on
But I know you can take it up, up, up, up all night long
Oh, up, up all night long."
The crowd continued to cheer and started to sing along as Emma got up and worked the room, letting her sultry movements perform the remaining stanzas with as much emphasis as her voice. By the time she made her way back up on stage, most of her friends and bar regulars were on their feet ready to shower her with accolades when the song finally ended. Her eyes flickered once more to the corner booth and a smirk pulled at her lips when she found Hot Guyliner and his buddies on their feet applauding her as well.
"Marry me, Emma!" August called out from behind the bar as the applause began to die down. Emma rolled her eyes at him.
"That's not a real proposal, August," she called back, before replacing the microphone back on the stand and putting a hand on her hip as she waited for the expected rebuttal.
"Sure it is," he argued with mocked offense, lifting his hands over his heart as if her words had wounded him.
"Nuh-uh. Do you have a ring?"
He shook his head no as he shrugged his shoulders.
"No ring. No proposal," she declared into the microphone, getting agreements from the ladies in the crowd.
"I never would have guessed you were the shallow type," August baited with a teasing smile as he once again began to pour drinks.
"It isn't about being shallow," she countered. "It's about knowing he's got skin in the game. A proposal without a ring is just lip service," she explained with a mocked , throwing him a seductive stare while licking her lips, she added, "Usually to get lip service."
This amassed a round of laughter and wolf whistles from the crowd. With a smirk and a cocked eyebrow pointed at August, Emma exited the stage and made her way toward the bar.
"Game, set, match," August surrendered with a laugh as she settled herself against the bar ready to pay her tab now that tradition had been satisfied.
She laughed back at him, but paused as he slid another vodka martini (extra dirty) across the bar toward her.
"What's this?" she asked. "I've never known you to throw in a free drink on a person's birthday before."
"This isn't from me," he said with a sly grin. "It's from your new friends in the corner booth."
Emma looked back over her shoulder and saw the three ridiculously attractive men she had offered the table to each raise their glasses at her in salute. The middle one - Hot Guyliner - gave her a wink.
Turning back to August, she bit down on her lip to hide her self-satisfied smile, and possibly a bit of a blush, and said, "Well, I guess it would be rude to not go over there and thank them."
August threw her a knowing look. "Oh, yes," he agreed. "Make sure you thank them… properly."
Emma reached over the bar to punch him on the shoulder - good naturedly of course. Picking up her drink and taking a sip, she made her way between the tables and the crowd, taking a few deep breaths to calm the nerves that started to bubble up into her chest along the way.
She'd just thank them, drink her drink and go. Okay, and maybe flirt with incredibly Hot Guyliner a bit more, too.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looked at each man with a sly smile before asking, "So, to whom do I owe my thanks?" Fixing her gaze on Hot Guyliner she added teasingly, "Or did you each pool your resources and chip in together?"
She placed a hand on her hip, drawing his eye there, while she took a sip of the drink and raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner. She only broke her focus on Guyliner to turn her attention toward the man who spoke up to answer her question.
"Well, we felt it was only right, as it is your birthday, to buy you a drink as thanks for the table, as well as a fantastic performance," the closest man said, the one with the lion tattoo on his forearm.
"Aye," the far man, Buzz Cut of Trouble, agreed, in a distinct British accent. They both had rather distinct British accents, Emma realized. "Mind you, we had to compete for the honor of who would actually get to buy it for ya, and wouldn't you know it, this lucky sod was the victor," he said pointing to the man next to him. Hot Guyliner.
Leveling her eyes with his, Emma offered her thanks with a coy smile.
"You're welcome, lass," he answered with a deep, lilting, accented voice that sent her pulse racing. "Although, if you'd care to join us, I'm sure you'd get a second and third round out of these two," he added with a raised eyebrow and challenging smirk on his lips.
Emma shook her head and let out a small chuckle. "Well, now that's just not fair," she stated accusingly as she took another sip of her drink.
"What's not fair?" Lion Tattoo asked.
"Um, well. You're all hot. You all wear leather really well. You rock some sexy guyliner," she said pointing at Guyliner, "and you're all British. How is a girl supposed to resist all that?" She couldn't help the laughing grin that came over her as she took in their reactions. A mixture of shy amusement and cocky bravado.
"She shouldn't," said Buzz Cut of Trouble with mocked pity in his tone and expression.
"Have a seat, love," Hot Guyliner invited as they shifted their positions around the booth to make room for her on the end.
She slid in next to Lion Tattoo, but kept her gaze on Hot Guyliner who kept his eyes on her. "Thanks," she said. "I'm Emma."
"Oh, we know," Lion Tattoo chuckled. "You seem to be something of a celebrity in this establishment."
Emma felt her cheeks heat up, but gave his comment a casual shrug of her shoulders. "I guess you could call me a regular. Don't think I've seen any of you here before, though."
"S'our first time here," Buzz Cut answered. "M'names Will. Will Scarlet. And these are me band mates, Robin Locksley," he gestured to Lion Tattoo Guy who gave her a polite nod of his head, "and-"
"Killian Jones," Hot Guyliner said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "At your service, love." He brushed a kiss along the backs of her knuckles. The softness of his lips combined with the callouses she could feel on his fingertips caused an eruption to make its way up her arm, lifting the fine hairs in an evident ripple of gooseflesh. One that caused his eyes to narrow as he watched the progression, a smirk just this side of smug teasing his lips.
Emma pulled her hand away and wrapped it back around her glass. "Of course you're in a band," she quipped with her eyes still locked on Hot Guyliner, stirring her martini with the olive laden toothpick before bringing it up to suck one of the briny garnishes into her mouth, internally preening at the darkening stare Hot Guyliner, Killian, was now giving her.
Robin cleared his throat, pulling her attention back to the rest of the table. "We've just arrived in town for a series of gigs we have lined up in various venues." He cast a look over towards the bar then back at her with a note of hopeful inquiry in his eyes. "We were hoping to speak to the owner of Wonderland to see if a booking here would be possible. I don't suppose you'd be willing to assist us with an introduction?"
"I'm sure I could manage that for you," Emma agreed before polishing off the rest of her martini then shaking the glass intently in his direction. "For a price."
Robin laughed. "Lead the way," he said, ushering her from the booth and towards the bar.
After making the introductions between Robin and August, Emma took her fresh martini and headed back towards the corner booth. Which was now another man shy.
"Will went to see if he could lay claim to one of the pool tables for him and Rob," Killian answered the unspoken questions he must have deduced from her expression then patted the seat next to him, inviting her to take the absent man's place.
"You don't play?" Emma asked, sliding into the booth next to him.
"I do. But I find I'm quite content sitting here for now. With you."
Heat bloomed across her cheeks and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip to try and stop the ridiculous grin that threatened to overtake her face. Lazily, she stirred figure eights in her glass with the toothpick and drew in a deep breath to help calm the nerves the man managed to spike within her.
"So, what instrument do you play in this band of yours?"
"Guitar," he replied before taking a long pull from the tumbler he'd been turning in his hand. "And I sing as well."
"Don't let anyone hear you say that," Emma advised with a small laugh. "Or they won't let you leave until you've gotten up on that stage."
"With any luck, Rob will manage to get us a proper gig on that stage and they'll all hear me then."
Emma coyly turned her attention back to her martini. "And if someone wanted to hear you perform at one of the gigs you already have scheduled?"
"Then they could do so 11 p. night at The Poison Apple," Killian answered.
Damn, Emma thought, disappointed. He must have picked up on her displeasure, prompting him to ask, "You already have plans, I take it?"
"Yeah. I'm in a show at the Misthaven Theatre. We don't usually get done with curtain call until eleven."
He looked as though he was about to respond when Will's cockney accent bellowed from across the bar. "Oi, Jones! Another table's free! You want it?"
Killian looked at her with hopeful anticipation in his raised brows and asked, "Care to join me in a friendly game of pool?"
"I'm not much of a player," she confessed. "I do better with darts."
"I'll make you a deal then," he said, scooting closer along the cushion and placing his arm on the seat back behind her. "You allow me to show off my great prowess in handling a lengthy stick and some balls, then I'll take great delight in watching your mastery over tiny pricked shafts and a board."
Even if he hadn't punctated his words with a ridiculous swagger of his brow, Emma still would have erupted in laughter. "Oh, my God!" she cackled, enjoying the deep chuckle emanating from him as he joined in her amusement. "Only if you promise to not be Captain Innuendo the entire game."
"Afraid I can't do that, love," he said with a roguish expression. "It's sort of second nature to me."
"Good thing you're pretty then," she quipped, exiting the booth and heading towards the pool tables without looking back. It wasn't as if there was any question as to whether or not he'd follow.
Emma offered to rack while Killian chose a cue from the wall. Once he found one to his liking, he removed his leather jacket revealing a dark blue button up and black vest beneath. She watched, slightly mesmerized, as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves to just below his elbows. Dark swaths of hair, like that at his chest, ran down his forearms and dusted the backs of his wrists. In addition to the numerous rings adorning his fingers, he also wore a chain around his neck. Bending over the table to line up his shot had caused the charm laden necklace to escape the confines of his shirt collar. Emma had been so fixated on trying to make out what the pendants were, that the crack of the cue ball breaking against the other balls made her jolt.
"Your shot, love."
A few more patrons made their way to the stage to entertain the crowd and she and Killian took turns trying to sink their balls, as well as making not so veiled references of a suggestive nature to one another while checking out the other's assets when awaiting their turn. Emma glanced over her shoulder to where Killian was leaned up against a tall cafe table, swirling his rum as his eyes roamed over the expanse of her legs. His eyes quickly darted to hers after making their way back up and appreciating her ass. Instead of showing any hint of chagrin, he hitched his brows in time with a shrug as if to say, can you blame me? then took a sip of his rum. Shaking her head, she suppressed a laugh and took her shot, once again failing to pocket her ball.
"I could give you some pointers if you'd like," Killian offered when she stepped back from the table to give him room for his shot.
"Is that a legitimate offer, or an excuse to press your body against mine with your arms wrapped around me?" she challenged playfully, coming to stand before him, braced against her pool cue.
He took a step forward, all but eliminating the space she'd left between them. "Can't it be both?"
Pulse kicking into overdrive, Emma wet her lips which drew his attention down to her mouth. Her breath hitched when he started to lean in and she was about to meet him halfway when a brash voice called her out from the stage.
"Yeah, Emma! Get it girl!" Ruby cheered into the microphone, causing the whole bar to stare in her and Killian's direction.
Emma looked up at Killian who had a wash of pink blooming at his cheeks and heating the tips of his ears. The same pink she was sure her complexion was sporting. They both smiled and gave a small huff of amusement, acknowledging the moment was over but hoping it might come around again.
"Get bent, Ruby," Emma threw back, stepping aside and letting Killian make his way past her to take his shot.
The crowd turned their attention back to the stage and Ruby started the song she'd gotten up to sing in the first place. When the first few notes began Emma groaned.
"What's the matter, love? Not a Kesha fan?"
"No, it isn't that," Emma told him. "It's just that this particular song performed by Ruby, somehow has the power to make people lose their inhibitions." Killian gave her a perplexed look. "Just wait. You'll see."
Emma watched Killian as he watched Ruby work the room, enticing people to strip off articles of clothing as she practically commanded the lyrics.
There's a place I know if you're looking for a show
Where they go hardcore and there's glitter on the floor
And they turn me on when they take it off, when they take it off, everybody take it off
Not at all surprised when her friend made a beeline for Killian, Emma rolled her eyes and grabbed her cue, leaving him to fend for himself before Ruby moved on to Robin and Will at the next table. Singing along under her breath, Emma walked around to the far side of the pool table and lined up her shot. She had just mouthed the lyrics 'take it off' when she felt someone tug on the zipper of her dress, causing it to pull down and expose her back. Dropping her pool cue, she grasped at the front of her dress, holding it in place as she whirled around and saw Ruby walking away, still singing while glancing back with wide, oh, my god, apology eyes.
"Dammit, Ruby!" Emma shouted as she tried to keep her back to the wall and the front of her dress held firmly in place. Fearing she may have already flashed an eye full, she looked across to the other table Will and Robin were occupying and laughed at their red faces craned up towards the ceiling, attempting to be gentlemen.
Still clasping the front of her dress in place, she reached around to try and zip her dress back up when she felt Killian step up behind her. Placing a hand on her hip, he leaned over her shoulder and whispered into her ear, "Allow me, love," and began pulling the zipper slowly back up into place.
His breath on her neck and the press of his hand through the fabric of her dress at her hip sent a rush of heat through her entire body. A pleasant, torturous, tingling sensation settled behind the peaks of her breasts and had her throbbing between her thighs as a shiver went through her.
She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him and found herself only an inch or so from his face. The look in his eyes made her breath catch. Dark and storming with a hunger and desire for her, she nearly forgot everything and everyone around her. She wanted to tell him to leave the zipper and just take the damn dress off her already. It was the reaction of the bar's patrons applauding the end of Ruby's performance that brought her back to herself.
With a sly smile she licked her lips and teased, "I bet zipping a woman into her dress isn't something you expect to do when you go out for the night, huh?"
He laughed at that. A sincere, open laugh, that made his eyes crinkle and a delectable dimple appear at his cheek. Her heart skipped and she felt a swoop in her stomach. The mischievous and flirtatious twinkle was back in his eyes, softening (but not diminishing) the hardened desire she had caught there moments ago.
"Not typically, no," he answered with a chuckle still lacing his voice, "but what sort of gentleman would I be to leave a lady in such an exposed state?" Zipper back in place, his hand remained on her hip, his thumb pressing slow circles over the fabric of her dress.
"Gentleman, huh?" she questioned in an unconvinced tone as she turned her face away from him. Looking forward once more, she pretended to watch Will and Robin take their shots.
"Aye," he answered, his lips still hovering next to her ear. His breath still warm across her neck. "I'm always a gentleman," he whispered softly into her ear, sending another shiver up her spine.
"That's too bad," she taunted as she stepped out of his grasp and walked over to the tall cafe table to grab his drink. She turned back to face him and gave him a suggestive look over the rim of the glass as she took a long sip of the amber liquid.
"Emma! Oh, my God, I am so sorry!" Ruby apologized as she rushed over after placing the mic back on the stand.
"It's fine, Rubes," Emma waved off. "Just give me half the tips you'll get from my added bit of the show, and we'll call it good."
Ruby gave her a relieved look, but it soon turned sour. "I didn't just come over here to say I'm sorry," she confessed. "I came to warn you. Walsh is here."