"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the crowd chants around the table as Emma downs the large tumbler of beer as fast as she can.

She slams the empty glass down in victory, throwing her hands in the air as everyone cheers.

A woman who can drink her weight in beer is his kind of lass, but this is once again just a holidate. Killian can't, however, help but notice how cute she looks in her green wig and the green t-shirt he'd picked out. Emma's reads, He's my lucky charm, with a leprechaun hand pointing to the right and he has a matching one that reads, She's my lucky charm, with the hand pointing to the left.

When they texted each other a few days ago to make plans, she tried to get out of wearing green, saying her eyes were green, so it counts. While it's true—her eyes are green, and a mesmerizing shade at that—he was making her wear the color. All he had to do to convince her was remind her she'd get pinched if she didn't wear it.

When a hand pounds his shoulder, Killian gasps and spins around, surprised to see Liam standing there. He wasn't aware his brother would be here; he figured Liam would be at the shop working. He pretty much lives there.

"Hey, little brother," Liam says with a grin, pulling him into a side hug. "So this is why you took the day off of work, huh?" he asks, his eyes moving over to Emma.

"Aye," Killian answers with a shy smile. "And it's younger brother."

Curiosity dances in Liam's eyes as he looks at Emma. "Who's your friend?"

Stepping next to her, Killian wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Liam, this is Emma. Emma, this is Liam."

"Ah, so you're the infamous Emma my brother can't stop talking about!" Liam practically shouts for the entire pub to hear as he shakes her hand.

Killian grimaces; his brother's always finding some way to embarrass the bloody hell out of him.

"Nice to meet you."

Blush paints her cheeks as she releases his hand and smirks. "Really? He talks about me, huh?"

Liam nods, still grinning from ear to ear. "Sure does. I can't get him to shut up about you."

"Good things, I hope?" she asks curiously.

"Oh yes, of course."

Killian narrows his eyes at Liam. He hasn't really spoken that much about Emma, only mentioned he'd gone with her to the Skyfall party and that he had a date with her on Valentine's Day, even though he didn't actually have plans and even though it wasn't actually a date. Unless you consider a dashing rescue and stuffing your faces with chocolate together in the parking garage at the mall a date. But he knew Liam would try to set him up with someone otherwise.

"How about another drink, love?" Killian asks Emma, changing the subject.

"Yes, please. I'll take a margarita."

"You got it."

"Sounds like a two-man job." Liam claps a hand on Killian's shoulder. "I'll go with you."

As his brother follows him across the bar, Killian refrains from groaning.

"She's cute," Liam comments as they reach the counter.

Killian gasps as though he didn't realize how attractive she is. "Really? I didn't know that," he says sarcastically. Only she's not just cute. "She's bloody gorgeous."

"So, what's going on between you two?"

With both hands, Killian points at his shirt. "What, our t-shirts didn't give us away?"

Liam leans against the bar counter, eyeing his brother suspiciously. "Come on, little brother, you're not fooling anyone."

Pretending not to know what he's referring to, Killian furrows his brows. "What do you mean?"

"If you two were dating, then why aren't you always grinning like a lovesick puppy dog when you come into work everyday like when you were with Milah? And why do you only ask for holidays off?"

Killian sighs, knowing he won't be able to bullshit his way out of this one. Not to his brother, at least.

"So, what's the real deal? Is it like friends with benefits?"

Killian shakes his head. "No benefits. We're just friends who only hang out on the holidays."

Liam furrows his brows in confusion. "So then, what's the bloody point?"

The bartender comes over to take their orders and once he leaves, Killian turns back to his brother, sighing in defeat. "The point is, I'm here with someone and having fun." He emphasizes the word fun as if that's his brother's biggest concern. "And you're not parading me around the bar and forcing my number on anyone with two x chromosomes."

Liam doesn't even bother to deny it, but he doesn't seem too happy about the situation, which is exactly why Killian didn't tell him what was going on. Ever since Milah broke his heart, Liam's made it his mission to find his brother a suitable girlfriend. Killian's sure Liam only does it so he can avoid having to face his own personal issues and find a suitable girlfriend himself. He dates occasionally, but there's never been anyone serious.

When they return with the drinks, the three of them find a table to sit at. Thankfully, Liam doesn't mention what Killian told him, but he does find every opportunity to embarrass the hell out of him by telling her childhood stories.

"We're rolling out!" someone hollers, and Emma and Killian stand from the table, following the crowd to the next bar. Thankfully, Liam doesn't tag along; he says he's too old to bar crawl. Killian doesn't argue.

By the time they enter their fifth and final bar, Emma and Killian are both pretty tipsy and thankful they had Ubered to the first bar, as neither of them is sober enough to drive.

The Wild Bull Saloon is known for having the best entertainment in Storybrooke, with live music, the best beer and as the name suggests, a mechanical bull. It's crowded and loud and the alcohol flowing through him has made him a little loopy and terribly flirty with Emma, who's been giving it right back to him. But it's difficult to have a deep conversation with her when they have to shout over the music, which means he's had fewer chances of discussing anything too personal with the dangerously beautiful woman who's been hanging on his arm all night so she doesn't fall over. It's probably a good thing they can't have any serious conversations because then he might fall even more in the deep end than he already is. He hates that they only text each other to make plans for the holidays, he hates that he can only see her on the holidays, so he's had to convince himself he's completely okay with this arrangement.

"Uh-uh, there is no way in hell I'm getting on that thing!" Emma shakes her head, adamantly refusing to ride it. A flirty smirk tilts her lips as she leans into him, placing her palms on his chest. "Besides, I can think of something else I'd rather ride."

Killian's face flames, and as much as he'd love to explore that idea, she's obviously drunk. It's definitely the alcohol talking. "Oh, come on, why not, love?" he teases as he grabs her hands, partly because he loves it when her hands are in his and partly so he doesn't fall over. "Have you ever ridden before...a bull I mean?" he clarifies, clearing his throat, definitely not picturing her riding him. They said friends with no benefits, he reminds himself.

"Nope, and I don't plan to tonight...or ever."

"Come on, you never forget your first," he says, wagging his brows.

Emma sighs dramatically. "Are you gonna do it, too?"

"If it means you will, then sure."

"It looks like the record of the night is thirteen seconds. Think you can beat it?"

"Oh love, I'm a bull riding champion," Killian smirks.

"Uh-huh, I'll believe that when I see it," Emma says doubtfully.

"I'll get us another drink, then I'll be back to watch you fall off that thing. Don't start without me, love!" he calls out over his shoulder as he heads toward the bar counter, leaving Emma at the end of the line.

He returns with two beers; he figures it might be smart to get away from the hard liquor before things between him and Emma get too carried away. It's bad enough he has to fight his feelings for her while he's sober, but it's even more difficult when the alcohol is doing all the thinking for him.

When it's her turn, he grabs her hand and drags her up to the guy operating the bull. "Put it on the fastest speed possible."

Emma's eyes widen as she gapes at him and smacks his arm. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Oh, come on, love, I believe in you. You said yourself you're good with hand jobs. Surely you can hold onto a bull for a few seconds."

She rolls her eyes. "That's a little different."

He holds their drinks with a big grin on his face as he watches Emma enter the bullring. She shoots him a venomous glare, which only makes him smile even more as he flashes her a wink.

"You got this, babe!" he hollers, hearing the timer countdown.

When the buzzer goes off, the bull begins to rock back and forth, slowly at first before picking up speed. Emma's holding on for dear life, one hand in the air as the other clings to the handle of the bull.

The music and cheering crowd fade into the background as he watches her every move, enjoying how she squeezes her legs to stay on and how she struggles at first, but then quickly gets used to the speed and how the machine jolts back and forth. Her tongue keeps darting out between her beautiful pink lips as she focuses on not falling off.

He's not sure if it's the alcohol in him, but watching Emma ride that bull in her tight-ass jeans, her hips rocking back and forth in rhythm with the machine, resembling the thrusts he can definitely imagine happening if she were riding him instead, is making his heart race and his dick grow hard.

Fuck.

Emma being flung off the bull, the sound of the buzzer and the announcement that she beat the record of the night by two seconds pull him back to reality. He quickly sets the drinks on a nearby table and hurries over to help Emma up.

"Whoooooop!" she cheers, raising the hand that's holding Killian's. She dizzily points at him with her free hand. "Beat that, cowboy!"

He takes off his green hat, handing it to her, and as he takes his turn, he can feel Emma's eyes on him. After he mounts the bull, he looks out into the crowd and sees Emma watching him and cheering him on as the operator presses the button. The bull is now moving, and he raises an arm in the air, holding on with the other hand. Soon the room is spinning around him, and he realizes he's drunker than he thought and starts to feel a bit queasy. He tried so hard to bury his feelings for a certain blonde with rum, he didn't realize how much he actually drank. Soon the bull picks up speed and before he knows it, he's flying in the air and landing on the mat, the room spinning around him.

The ceiling fan spinning slowly and his shirt hanging from one of the blades is the first thing he sees when he drags one eye open the next morning.

He groans, wondering where he is as he opens his other eye and tries to blink away the sleepiness. His head is pounding like a hammer, nausea lingering in his stomach.

It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust to the blinding light streaming through the window, but when everything comes into focus, there are a few things he quickly realizes. One, this is not his apartment, two he's lying on a couch covered in a blanket—not even his own couch at that—and three, there's a pair of lacy red thongs lying on the coffee table.

Panic rushes through him as he blinks and scans the room to make sure he's not hallucinating or dreaming, but nope, this is definitely real. He's just trying to figure out where the bloody hell he is, how he ended up here and who's panties those are.

Did he sleep with someone last night?

The last thing he remembers is flying off the mechanical bull.

Everything after that is a blur.

When he hears someone gasp, he lifts his head, his eyes falling to the floor. His heart leaps into his throat when he sees long, gorgeous legs and a pile of blonde curls on the floor

He gulps.

It's Emma.

Now he knows who those knickers belong to. He just doesn't know how she got out of them. Well, he can imagine how she got out of them.

Fuck.

"Hello…" He means it to sound much more cheerful than it comes out, but his voice is hoarse and cracked with sleep.

He's hoping she'll remember something, but when he sees her looking around the room just as puzzled as he is, he knows she doesn't.

"Uh, hi…" she finally says.

"You're on the floor."

"Yes, I uh…" She squeezes her eyes shut briefly and opens them, using the coffee table and couch to push herself up into a sitting position. And that's when he notices she's wearing a lacy red bra. So at least she's not completely naked...well, he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. No, that's definitely a good thing, he convinces himself. "I remember falling off the couch and it just seemed like...it seemed like a lot of work to get back up." She rests her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands.

Wait.

She fell off the couch? He scans the sofa, taking in its size. His feet are hanging off it, so he has no idea how she even fit on the couch with him. She must have been sleeping on top of him.

Yep, they definitely slept together.

"So, I guess we might have…"

"No. We didn't." She scoffs out a laugh, as though the idea is both humorous and unheard of.

His heart sinks at her reaction.

She groans, slowly pushing herself off the floor.

Killian's eyes widen when he scans her form and realizes she's wearing his boxers. Which means he is completely naked underneath the blanket.

Just bloody perfect.

He points at her, knitting his brows together. "You're wearing my knickers."

Emma looks down at herself and gasps, her eyes widening when she sees she's not wearing the red thongs on the coffee table. Instead, she's wearing the boxers he always wears on St. Patrick's Day. They're white with green shamrocks, and the front reads, rub for good luck. He almost snorts out a laugh when he sees them on Emma.

"That doesn't mean anything. I..." she throws up her hands, searching around for her clothes, "probably just got cold in the night…" Her words trail off when she spots her panties lying on the coffee table and snatches them up, "after my…panties fell off." She hides the flimsy fabric behind her back and scurries backward toward the recliner chair in the corner of the room.

"Come on, love. You must be able to tell somehow."

"Tell how, exactly?" She ducks down to change into her panties.

He shrugs. "I don't know, I don't have a vagina."

Emma pops her head up from the back of the chair, pinning him with a deadly glare. "Well, there's no forensic evidence if that's what you're wondering." She looks down to inspect herself. "Nothing's dried on my leg, there's no wrapper on the floor, no lingering scent. I mean, I feel a little sore between my legs, but that could be from the mechanical bull." She picks up the boxers she removed from herself and whips them at him. He flinches when his underwear hits him in the chest. "Can't you tell?" she asks frantically, grabbing the bathrobe draped over the chair.

He tilts his head and lifts up the knitted blanket to look underneath at himself. He shrugs, not noticing anything amiss. "I mean, he looks a little tired, but...I don't think he's really satisfied," he comments, sounding a little bummed. But to be honest, he's relieved, because if he were to be with Emma, he'd sure as hell want to remember it.

"I'm telling you, we didn't do it," she states adamantly, stepping out from behind the chair, now in her bathrobe.

A spark of hope lights up inside him at her certainty. "Do you remember something about last night?"

She shakes her head, and suddenly that hope dims. "No, do you?"

"I don't remember much past the mechanical bull."

"Okay, uh…I think you texted your brother, and he got us an Uber? We came back here but I don't remember much after that…I'm pretty sure nothing happened between us."

"Alright." Killian nods, hoping that's the case. He's willing to believe they didn't do anything last night if she is. He already has to shove down his feelings for her, and sleeping with her will completely ruin him, because something tells him he wouldn't be able to hide his feelings after that. "Let's go with that, love."

"Great." Emma nods in agreement, plastering on a smile as if the morning is completely normal. "Coffee?"

"Please."

"Cream?" she asks, making a beeline across the living room toward the kitchen.

"No, just black, thank you."

"Sounds good."

Once she's in the kitchen, he scrubs his hands over his face, not believing how this morning began. He gets up from the couch, not even bothering to keep himself covered with the blanket since she's busy preparing the coffee maker. But when he bends down to pull on his boxers, he can feel her eyes on his bare ass. When he cranes his head to look at her, she quickly averts her gaze and appears to be all flustered, moving around the kitchen like a chicken with the head cut off.

"Do you have another one of those robes, love?"

"Uh, yeah...let me get it for you." She dashes off to her bedroom and returns with a pink robe and a little smirk on her face.

He chuckles, his cheeks heated as she hands it to him.

"Sorry, it's the only other one I have."

But he's not complaining because when he wraps it around himself, it's soft and comfortable and smells like her. Plus, he gets to spend a morning with her on a non-holiday, which is nice, even if it is a bit awkward.

He doesn't remind her it's not a holiday, though.