If she had to blame anyone for this situation it was a tie between Ruby and Mary-Margaret, or perhaps, more accurately the combined meddling powers of Ruby and Mary-Margaret.

It was definitely not Emma's fault that a few months ago they'd got her completely drunk on several pitchers of frozen Strawberry Daiquiris (her own personal truth serum cocktail) and extracted a bunch of blackmail worthy tidbits while her defences had been down, all culminating in this one truly astounding meddlesome masterpiece.

A.K.A: David's 80s themed birthday party.

Emma was convinced that David didn't even like the 80s that much but had been swayed by the unrelenting forces of evil that were Ruby's "Do it! Do it!" chant, and Mary-Margaret's Disney princess, doe eyes.

God, she hated her life sometimes.

One slip of the tongue and she was stranded in the most obvious attempt at a setup known to man, dressed as Baby from Dirty Dancing, and, even though she hadn't seen him yet, Emma was certain that Killian Jones was around here somewhere, most likely dressed as Johnny.

Let's take a step back for a moment, and examine where this neon-infused nightmare began.

It was somewhere between their fourth or fifth shared pitcher on girls night, and Emma was starting to get real chatty. They'd already done the usual catch-up, how's life, how's work, did you hear that Regina and Robin are almost definitely sleeping together, and all that jazz; when her Daiquiri addled brain managed to pick up on the latest hit blasting from the Jukebox.

"I love this song!" she slurred, reaching her arms above her head and swaying drunkenly to the tune.

"Yeah, it's pretty good," said Ruby, waving her hand to the waitress, who was carrying over their next round.

"No," Emma groaned, grabbing her friends hands and staring her dead in the eyes, "you don't understand; I love this song. This is Killian's song."

She hadn't noticed it then, but she suddenly had both her friends' full attention, glancing at each other in eager anticipation.
Killian and Emma had met and become pretty much best friends over two years ago, and everyone was convinced that they were playing some kind of long, drawn out 'will they, won't they' flirtation game. Sober Emma refused to comment on such ridiculous rumors, because Sober Emma was determined that nobody would ever find out about her long harbored secret crush on Killian Jones; particularly her incorrigible friends, who couldn't keep a secret to save their lives.

Drunk Emma was a different matter entirely, particularly Daiquiri Drunk Emma, the little traitor.

"What do you mean this is Killian's song?" asked Mary-Margaret, "I've never heard him mention it."

SoberEmma would have seen this shameless prodding for what it was and been quick to change the subject, or come up with a believable lie, but Sober Emma had left the building after her fifth cocktail, leaving filterless Drunk Emma in charge.

"Oh no," she mumbled, her mouth around her straw, taking another large sip, "It's not that he likes it, it's that I like it. It's my Killian song; I always think about him when I listen to it, and I listen to it, like a lot."

And there it was. The bomb had been dropped and Emma was none the wiser, happily oblivious to the gleaming, scheming light in the other women's eyes. Not until the next morning did she remember what had happened, and only because that damn song had happened to shuffle its way onto her phone while she was holed up on a stakeout.

Emma had groaned loudly at the realisation, banging her head repeatedly against her steering wheel, subjecting herself to the torment that was bound to follow, waiting until they made their move.

And tonight was the night.

They had been really damn smart about it as well.

Emma didn't immediately make the connection between the theme of the party and the song in question, especially since the girls had promised her that they'd all go as the Heathers.

But tonight, when she'd shown up at Mary-Margaret's place to get ready, they'd conveniently forgotten to mention that they'd made other plans, Ruby now going as one of the Witches of Eastwick, and Mary-Margaret couples costuming with David, as Aubrey and Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors, but 'Don't worry Emma, we have the perfect costume for you.'

She'd been tempted to call it quits and go home the instant she laid eyes on the pink dress, but David was her brother, and he'd refused to have the party without her. Emma got the feeling he didn't know about his girlfriend's plot to get his little sister to confess her love for his best friend, and bang him into next week, maybe then he wouldn't have been so eager to get her out of the house and over to the bar they'd hired out for the night.

It hadn't been hard, it was Killian's bar after all.

The usually nautical themed walls practically hidden beneath the obnoxious disco lights, movie posters, neon streamers, and balloons that they had decked the place out in. All of the guests were either in character, or bedecked in their finest fishnet gloves and legwarmers, Will Scarlett even seemed to have come as a Rubiks Cube.

Emma was hiding out in a dark corner, debating the merits of stalking Will around the place, using his giant box costume as a shield, until she could figure out either how to get out of this dress, or get out of the party altogether without anyone noticing. A quick lap to scout the exits and get her seen by enough people that she couldn't be accused of flaking out and she would be good to go.

With a deep breath, Emma closed her eyes and stepped out of the shadows- straight into someone's chest and, god fucking dammit.

His chest was as firm as usual. She knew he went to the gym, had been with him that one time and never returned upon realising that she had no restraint when it came to watching him lift weights in a well-fitted t-shirt, and somehow, after all that sweaty exercise, he'd still managed to smell like spiced rum and the sea, two of her favourite things.

"Swan?" said Killian, his arms coming around her, as she buried her face against his chest, groaning loudly. She couldn't look up, couldn't look him in the eye when she was dressed like this and he was inevitably dressed all in black (which for him barely counted as a costume anyway.)

"Love, are you alright?" He was trying to pull her away from him to get a better look, but Emma refused to budge, throwing her arms around his waist and clinging on like a koala.

"I hate Ruby and Mary-Margaret," she muttered into his shirt, burrowing deeper as she felt his laughter reverberate through his chest.
"What have they done this time, Swan?" He was stroking her hair now, swaying them softly to the rhythm of whatever George Michael song was currently blasting from the sound system.
"They're bullying me," she whined back, "they're-"

Then she heard it.

The music cut out and abruptly changed to an entirely new track, one that made her spine stiffen, and finally drew her head up from Killian's chest so that she could glare over his shoulder at a very smug-looking Ruby as she stood unashamedly in the DJs booth.

"Wanna dance, Swan?" said Killian, immediately drawing her attention back to him, even if she was horrified by the offer.

"What-I-dance, you...I mean, you want to dance... to this song...with me?" she stammered out, her panic increasing because he was already towing her towards the dance floor, and the damn music was only getting louder.

"I love this song," he said with a nonchalant shrug, spinning her into his arms and proceeding to move them to the beat, "besides, it seems only appropriate given our costumes."

She knew she was already done for, so really she wasn't losing anything by unashamedly taking him all in, and yep, black jeans, tight black shirt, only his hair was different, slightly tidier, neater and more styled like Swayze's. Emma preferred it the other way, his usual state of permanent bed hair that had given her multitudes of impure thoughts over the last couple of years.

She was dancing with him now. She knew that resistance was futile and the man could dance so what the hell. Emma pressed herself back against him, enjoying the little hitch in his breath as she did so, biting her lip to hide her smile as they moved with all the other couples now out on the floor.

"It's all their doing," Emma blurted out, as their hips started to move together, close, but not close enough, and dammit she needed to get a grip.

Killian looked at her blankly, his eyebrow rising in confusion, as his unconscious hands flexed against her.

"The dress," Emma explained, "and no doubt the order you got to come as Swayze, it was Mary-Margaret and Ruby's idea."

"Ah," Killian hummed, "you look stunning, Swan, remind me to thank them later."

Her heart, and other parts of her body, clenched at the heat in his gaze.

Normally, they were more careful with each other than this, delicate lines drawn in their relationship to keep them in check, but maybe it was something to do with the lights, or the two shots that everyone had been made to do at the door, or the music, definitely the music, but Emma leaned even closer, her forehead pressed against his as they danced.

Their lips were so close to touching, that Emma felt them brush together, as he opened his mouth, his words hard to hear over the surrounding noise, but then she realised what was happening, and fuck was she in trouble.

He was singing.

"Hungry eyes.

One look at you and I can't disguise,

I've got hungry eyes

I feel the magic between you and I."

Really, what else was she supposed to do?

Without giving herself a chance to second guess it, Emma pushed up on her toes, pressing her mouth firmly against his, releasing all the thunder that had been building in her lips for the past two years.

Killian was frozen for a moment, until, with a deep growl in the back of his throat, he surged back against her. His hand wound itself deep into her hair, tugging at the strands until Emma turned her head giving him better access to kiss her more deeply.

It was everything she'd ever imagined it would be; heat, and passion, and burning hunger, that she felt all the way down to her toes. Right up until the moment Killian pulled away.

"Swan wait," he sighed, his voice breathless, the rest of him looking thoroughly debauched, "come over here and let me get you some water."

Emma was deeply confused, but he was so quietly insistent that she followed him anyway, all the way over to the bar, where he instilled her on a nearby stall, slipping behind the back to fetch her a fresh glass.
"Uh...thanks," she said, taking a sip as he continued to stare at her. She didn't really understand what was happening here. His eyes were concerned, almost sad, and he seemed to be trying to put some space between them, except for the fact that his right hand couldn't seem to stop playing with one of the folds of her skirt.
"Killian, what-" she started to say, only to have him cut her off.

"Emma, I'm so sorry," he said, no longer able to look her in the eyes, "I shouldn't have done that. You're my best friend and- wait, don't tell Dave I said that he'll kill me but- bloody hell what was I even saying...Right, you're my best friend I know you don't see me in that way, and I don't want you to think of me as some guy who just goes around kissing all his friends. I mean you're so beautiful, and smart, and funny, and- sorry, I mean it was that song you know, I think of you every time I hear that song- not that I just spend all my time thinking about you, except I kind of do, but not in a weird way!"

She felt the veil of confusion starting to lift.

Realising that this wasn't a rejection, Emma couldn't help the smile that started to tug at the corner of her mouth as he rambled on.

She was also fairly sure that he hadn't noticed that he couldn't seem to stop touching her; the hand that had been playing with her skirt, now softly gripping her hip, completely negating everything he was trying to say about backing off.

"You know it's really all Will's fault. He was the one who first told me that everyone thought we were already a thing, or that we should be a thing, something about how a thing should be had, I don't really remember. Then after that, there was Liam and Robin, plus a bunch of other people all said you belong with me or something like that- not that you can belong to a person in an ownership kind of way, I don't want to own you or anything, those are Scarlett's words.
Still, he got me thinking about it, about you, I mean me, ab- about us, and it sounded pretty great, to be honest. But what does Scarlett know? Do I like you, yes, obviously, you're my best friend Swan, we covered that earlier, and we're still not telling your brother. Am I into you, also yes, but that doesn't mean you're into me, and that you love me as I love you...
I've also realised just this second that I probably shouldn't have just blurted out that I love you, that's not fair to you at all Swan, but I can never seem to help myself around you Quite frankly, I want you an unreasonable amount and I-"

Emma finally stopped him with a hand over his mouth, saving him from himself as always.

"Killian," she said, trying to cover the laughter in her voice, "I think maybe you should breathe."

He nodded, exhaling against her palm, but still, she didn't remove her hand.

"My turn I think," Emma whispered, her other hand, reaching up to cover his, that had somehow made it up to cup her neck. "First of all, this is definitely Mary-Margaret and Ruby's fault, but I'm happy to toss Will onto the pile, probably with both our brothers and pretty much everyone else we know, because I'm fairly sure they've all had a hand in this at some point or other. Secondly, this song makes me think of you too, a fact I accidentally revealed after one too many daiquiris on girls night."

"Daiquiris make you very sharing, love," he mumbled against her hand, making her smile.

"I know they do. I still can't believe I fell for that. Thirdly, you can belong to a person, because you absolutely belong to me and I belong to you, that's just straight facts, which leads me nicely to my final point: I am ridiculously in love with you Killian Jones, have been for a very long time, to the point which I'm fairly sure this whole party was just one giant set up to convince me to finally admit it."

Emma took a deep breath, looking directly into his eyes, which were round with shock and about a million different other emotions that she was definitely going to explore later.

"I'm going to take my hand away now," she whispered, slowly lowering her palm until it rested over his chest and his rapidly beating heart.

He was frozen, completely unmoving, except for his eyes that were moving rapidly, taking her all in, as if he couldn't quite believe that she was sitting there in front of him.

"Sorry," Emma said meekly, suddenly feeling self-conscious, "I thought it would be better if I did it all at once, like ripping off a-"

She was cut off as he yanked her up off of her stool and into his body, their lips colliding again with even more fire than before, effectively covering his quiet, 'Bloody hell, Swan.'

Emma smirked against his mouth, hands diving into his hair, to return it to its proper state, heels popping out of her shoes as he lifted her higher, desperate to get closer, tongues dancing, hands searching, hips grinding; altogether not a scene that they should have been making in public, at his bar, at her brother's birthday party. David will be pissed.

Truthfully though, she didn't have one fuck to give, because she was finally kissing Killian Jones, and he was kissing her back as if his life depended on it. They were kissing and in love, and though she'd later try and play it off as some kind of act of fate, Emma was positive that Mary-Margaret had definitely forced the DJ to start playing 'Time of My Life.'