A/N: This is a repost of an old fic. This is a Season 3A canon divergence, after the return from Neverland, before Pan's curse.
NEVER HAVE I EVER
In retrospect, Emma had only herself to blame.
It all began innocently enough: a girl's night with the ladies of Storybrooke. Mary Margaret had suggested that they desperately needed to have a normal evening after the hell they'd gone through to save Henry (and the miracle of getting David out of Neverland alive). Emma wasn't hard to convince. "Normal" was something she hadn't experienced since the day her son knocked on her door.
Emma sat on the floor of the flat she shared with her parents (an idea she still wasn't quite used to) surrounded by her closest friends (another novelty), Ruby and Belle as well as Mary Margaret, with a bottle if tequila between them. Emma wasn't sure who had brought the alcohol—probably Ruby—but she was the one who suggested a drinking game. Never Have I Ever, specifically.
And she was beginning to regret it.
Early rounds were tame. "Never have I ever been a mother." Emma and Mary Margaret took a shot.
"Never have I ever grown up in the Enchanted Forest." Emma grinned as the other ladies knocked back some tequila. But the more liquor consumed, the more personal the game became.
"Never have I ever fallen in love with the Dark One."
"Never have I ever turned into a wolf."
"Never have I ever sent my baby daughter to another world to be abandoned to the foster care system."
Emma cringed as soon as the words left her alcohol-loosened tongue. Mary Margaret narrowed her eyes as she brought her glass to her lips, and Emma knew this wasn't going to be pretty.
"Never have I ever," Mary Margaret said slowly, her gaze never wavering from Emma's, "kissed a pirate."
And there it was.
While it was no secret there was some kind of tension between Emma and Hook, the kiss was an incident only a few were privy to. And Belle and Ruby were not part of the "I know Emma made out with a swarthy pirate in Neverland" club.
For two seconds, Emma considered not drinking. Kissing Hook was at the top of the list of things she hadn't quite reconciled herself with. Mary Margaret gave her a knowing smile, as if daring her to deny the lip lock. Emma scowled at her mother and threw back a shot, earning a gasp from Belle.
"It's your turn," Emma said to Ruby.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ruby held up a hand. "You're just going to leave it at that? No details?"
"Yep." Emma filled her glass, thinking she wasn't nearly drunk enough to have this conversation.
"Were you under a spell?" Ruby asked, refusing to drop the subject.
Emma shook her head as Mary Margaret helpfully answered, "Not that I recall, though I didn't actually see it happen."
"Did he force himself on you?" Belle asked with wide eyes.
Emma sighed and grabbed the bottle. There was no avoiding this topic, apparently. She took a long swig of tequila before answering. "I'm the one who kissed him. One time."
"Oh, my god!" Ruby exclaimed with an entirely too wide smile. "Was it good?"
"My mother is here!" Emma hissed, her face on fire.
"You're a grown woman, not a teenager—and a mother yourself. I'm under no illusions that you haven't kissed anyone before, among other things." Mary Margaret nudged Emma with her elbow. "Well? Was it good?"
"Seriously?" Emma stared at her mother. Mary Margaret grinned in return.
"Come on!" Ruby waggled her eyebrows. "This is girl's night. We're supposed to share all our dirty secrets! Inquiring minds want to know—does the notorious Captain Hook know how to work those lips?"
When Emma didn't answer, Belle winked and said, "I live with Rumple—and I love him. I'm pretty sure kissing a pirate doesn't hold a candle to that."
But that was what they didn't understand. It was so much more than a kiss. Hook had promised to win Emma's heart, just as Neal had sworn to never give up on her. She'd been able to keep both men at bay, even after their return to Storybrooke.
She swallowed down more tequila and said, "He's not…unskilled."
Ruby let out a whooping laugh. "Would you do it again?"
The alcohol wanted to answer a resounding yes for Emma, but she said instead, "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Ruby asked. "What's wrong with a little fun with the bad boy? We've all been there. Well, maybe not you, Snow White."
"Hey!" Mary Margaret protested. "Don't forget that David was having an affair with me while he was married to another woman—back before we got our memories back."
Ruby held up her hands in defeat. "All right. I'll give you some fun-with-bad-boy points for that, but we all know that Charming could never really be a proper villain." Mary Margaret conceded the point with a shrug.
"Don't think I've forgotten about you." Ruby pointed at Emma. "Why do you think it's a bad idea to kiss him again—especially if it was good?"
Emma blew out a puff of air. "Because…" She looked at Mary Margaret helplessly.
"Because it wouldn't just be about 'fun'—not for him," her mother said. "Hook is in love with Emma."
"You're kidding!" Ruby's eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Like love love?"
Emma buried her head in her hands with a groan. "So he says."
"Yeah," Mary Margaret said, wrapping an arm around Emma, "I'm pretty sure he means it."
Emma looked up at her. Mary Margaret hadn't exactly been Hook's biggest supporter. She'd softened toward him when she found out that he'd saved David's life, but she'd always been firmly Team Neal. There was a twinge in her voice just now—something that said she might be reconsidering her position. This change was significant, but Emma wasn't quite sure how. The alcohol muddling her thoughts probably didn't help either.
"How do you feel about him?" Belle asked. She was positively beaming, as if excited by the thought of no longer being the only good girl who fell for a bad guy.
Emma stood up on shaky legs, taking the bottle with her. "Do we have to do this right now?"
Mary Margaret gave her a sympathetic smile. "You're going to have to choose one of them eventually."
"Oooo!" Ruby clapped as she scrambled to her feet. "I love a good love triangle!"
"Maybe I don't want either one of them," Emma said, waving her hands in exasperation.
Mary Margaret shook her head. "You know that's not true. What does your heart say?"
Emma glared at her mother. That was totally below the belt, pulling the heart card. As if her heart would want a scruffy pirate who swaggered around in leather, smoldering at everyone with his unfairly sexy blue eyes!
Which is exactly how she found herself standing—teetering, really—on the docks ten minutes later with the three other women giggling behind her.
Emma stared up at the Jolly Roger, silhouetted against the glittering night sky. She took a final swig from the bottle of tequila, bolstering her liquid courage. No more stalling. Time to make a choice.
"Hook!" she yelled up at the huge ship. "Hook, get your skinny pirate ass out here now!"
Someone snickered behind her. Someone else shushed the snickerer.
"Hook!" Emma yelled again, hurling the bottle at the ship. It occurred to her that was probably a bad idea when the glass shattered loudly. Belle let out a scream and Mary Margaret quieted her with a hand over her mouth.
"What the devil is going on down there!?"
Emma's breath caught at the sight of a shirtless Hook leaning over the railing. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles and his stubble was extra stubbly which somehow made him even more attractive. How was that even reasonable?
"Did you require something, ladies?" He asked, adopting a crooked grin as he looked at Emma. "Or are you merely having a night of ruckus and vandalism? I can't fault you for the latter, though I do ask that you kindly leave my ship unmarred."
Ruby shoved Emma forward, and she barely caught herself before making a spectacular face-plant. She gave the other woman her most evil evil-eye before turning back to Hook. "I'm here to talk to you," she said. Did she sound…slurry?
"And this chat needed to happen in the middle of the night?" He propped an elbow on the railing, resting his chin on his hand.
"Well, yeah." Emma frowned, slightly confused as to why she was doing this now instead of the morning. Someone nudged her again. "You said back in Neverland I was going to have to make a choice."
"Aye. That I did." He seemed to stiffen, but maybe that was just her imagination. Everything was getting fuzzy.
"So, I made it."
"Did you now, lass?" He glanced at the other three women, his cheeky grin becoming less cheeky. "Perhaps we ought to finish this conversation in private."
Emma nodded. "Okay."
Mary Margaret swept her into a bear hug, whispering in her ear, "I just want you to be happy." Belle's arms wrapped around the two and Ruby joined in.
"Have fun!" Ruby said as they broke apart.
Emma watched as the three of them staggered down the dock, laughing and talking. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned and headed toward the Jolly Roger. Hook met her halfway down the gangplank, arms folded. He didn't wear the hook on the stump of his missing hand—or any kind of prosthetic—and it made him appear oddly vulnerable—human, rather than the infamous antihero out of fairy tale.
"I came here to talk," she said when she reached him. Didn't she already say that? She couldn't remember.
He nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, yes."
"I've made my choice."
"So it would seem." He grabbed her hand and hooked her arm with his when she nearly tripped on the deck. "Easy, love."
She leaned into him for support as he led her to his quarters. It was really nice how they fit together like this.
It was also the last thing she remembered.
Emma slowly came to in the amber tendrils of early morning light. This was most definitely not her bed. Or her room. And why was she nearly naked under the blanket? She shot up only to lay back down again with a groan. Her head hurt, her mouth was insanely dry, and her stomach performed precarious acrobatics that would probably end very badly.
"You're awake."
Pieces of the night before came back to her as her bleary eyes followed the voice. Hook sat in an armchair near the bed, fully dressed and bearing his teeth in a Cheshire-like grin. This was his bed, she realized, and she was in it wearing only a tank top and underwear.
She attempted to sit up again and immediately regretted it. Hook was suddenly at her side, pressing a cup of something into her hand as he sat on the bed next to her.
"Drink it," he said. "It's an old remedy."
She sniffed it suspiciously—hangover cures were notoriously foul—as she brought it to her lips. It was surprisingly sweet and she gave Hook a questioning look.
"I've had a few centuries to perfect it." He gave her a crooked smile.
She finished off the concoction, noting that her stomach had stopped its flying trapeze act and the pounding in her head had died down. Clutching the cup in both hands, she sighed. "Tell me we didn't—"
Hook laughed softly. "I may be a pirate, but I draw the line at taking advantage of an unconscious woman."
Emma glanced at him. "I passed out?"
He nodded. "Right after you stripped down to your knickers and flopped onto my bed belly-first."
She cringed. "I did that?"
"Aye, love," he said with another laugh. "It was quite a show."
Emma gave him a rueful grin in an attempt to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. "So my clothes…?"
He pointed to a neatly folded pile on the bureau. "You're not in a hurry to leave, are you now?" He turned back to her, eyes twinkling. "You did come to talk."
"I was pretty drunk last night," she deflected, hoping she could avoid the conversation that, in the light of morning, she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to have.
He ignored her statement. "You made your choice, you said. I'm rather keen to know what it was." She swallowed thickly as he stared down at her. "Have I finally succeeded in winning your heart, Emma?"
She closed her eyes, her fear of being hurt and abandoned warring with how much she wanted a happy ending—with him. "Maybe." It was the best she could offer.
He grinned triumphantly. "I knew you couldn't handle it, Swan."
Her gut twisted at first when she thought that he meant this had all been some grand game to him, but then she saw the undeniable love in his eyes.
She smiled back at him, and setting aside the cup, gripped him by the leather collar of his coat. "You couldn't handle it first, Hook."
"Perhaps." He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her up to him. "The name's Killian, if you don't mind."
He kissed her, and she felt as though he poured every passion and longing into her, making her understand his truth. He wanted her, body and soul, not because he wanted to one-up Neal or because she was the Savior. He wanted her because she was Emma—the woman who already had his heart. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. But wasn't that what love was supposed to be?
She'd never had it before. Not like this.
And it was incredible.
~FIN~
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts!