A/N: Began with an idea from the prompt "Kissed them while stealing their wallet" and turned into this. It's probably best to classify it as leftenant duckling (it's usually called lieutenant duckling, right? I just re-watched Good Form and he says leftenant so I'm sticking to that). I do swap between saying 'lieutenant' and 'leftenant' for Killian and Emma in an attempt to keep with their accents, so I may have gotten them mixed once or twice.
As always, I don't own anything. Please enjoy and review.
Emma looks into her money pouch with a sigh, seeing nothing but a smattering of bronze coins. It seems she was asking too much to hope some gold ones might magically appear.
She knots it back on her belt angrily and checks her other pouch is secure. All she had wanted was a nice bag of gold for her work, instead, she was betrayed and she is now on the run from people who may be slightly upset with her for stealing from them.
Revellers exit the tavern, forcing Emma back into the dark alley. The noise lessens when the door finally swings shut and Emma sighs again as she begins to unlace her corset and adjusts her long hair. Her normal gear of tights and a shirt would draw too much attention in the town and Emma needs to stay away from the authorities while she gathers enough money to book herself onto a ship or carriage and find someone far away to sell the damn compass to.
She forces a smile onto her face and sways into the tavern, the din momentarily overwhelming her. She moves through the tavern with an easy grace, deftly avoiding reaching hands with giggles and shy smiles as she searches for her mark, hoping the gropers all get some sort of food poisoning.
Emma internally sighs with relief when she spots her mark, still buttoned up in his navel uniform, ponytail neat as he reluctantly nurses his rum. He scratches himself awkwardly behind his ear as he gazes around the tavern, blushing at every bosom he accidentally looks at.
Emma grins, already sensing victory and tucks her hair behind her ears before she swaggers over, leaning over his table to give him the perfect view.
"What are you up to, sailor?" She purrs, and tries not to let her confusion show when his eyes – piercing blue in the dim light – lock firmly onto her face, despite the impressive sway she can feel her breasts are giving.
He is gaping before he gives an awkward cough, his eyes moving downwards in embarrassment, blush deepening when his gaze unintentionally moves to her breasts.
"I've been ordered to take the night off," he finally admits as Emma sits on the bench next to him.
"Ordered? Don't you want to have fun?" She smiles with a lick of her lips.
"It's not that, lass," he claims, "It's simply that we have an early start tomorrow and it hardly seems like good form to be in less than peak condition for when we set sail."
"Good form," she tests, "You know what's not good form, sailor? Letting a girl drink alone."
She waves down a bar maid, who looks frazzled and impatient, and Emma is about to reluctantly part with the last of her money before the sailor cuts in.
"Allow me, lass," he says, before pulling a gold coin from the pouch at his waist. Emma notes its location and shifts so she's straddling the bench, considering the best position to grab it.
"I'm sure you've been to so many places," she gushes, pouring a generous serve of whatever brew they were brought.
"A few, I've naught been a leftenant for long. I'm not as well-travelled as you may think."
"I've never left my town," Emma says modestly, "That means you've already seen more than me."
Emma holds her cup up for a toast, "To new experiences."
He doesn't break eye contact as he repeats her toast and downs the drink, both coughing as it burns their throat, Emma only fairly slightly better.
"That's certainly an experience," he coughs and they laugh as Emma pours another one.
"So, who do I have the pleasure of drinking with tonight?" He asks and Emma ignores the sincerity in his tone.
"Where's the fun in that?" She pouts.
"Do you want me to call you 'lass' all night?" He responds with an arch of his brow, a look that sends a shiver down her spine as she considers he would be a tough opponent if he weren't so inexperienced.
"I like it when you say it, what shall I call you?"
Emma 'accidentally' brushes his hand as she reaches for her drink and the sailor shivers in response.
"Killian will do just fine, lass," he says huskily and Emma shifts, attempting to alleviate the tension their interactions are building between her legs. The motion makes the compass at her waist move, reminding Emma of why she is in this situation in the first place and firmly shuts down any ideas of taking it further.
"So, Killian," she breaths, "On what grand adventure are you sailing off on next?"
The alcohol has begun to make Killian bold and he shifts forward slightly as he responds, "I've no idea, lass, I'm merely a simple leftenant who follows the commands of his captain. I'm more interested in what brings a beautiful lass like yourself into this establishment."
Emma blinks at the compliment, sensing that he means it genuinely rather than as a gesture to make her more pliable.
"My... betrothed left me," she finally says, surprising herself with her honestly, "And he was in a spot of trouble with the law when he ran and now he's left me to clean up his mess."
"That man is the biggest idiot in all the realms," he states, "And you can trust my word on that, lass, I've been to three of them."
Emma chuckles weakly, trying to remember the last time she actually laughed.
That's when she realises she needs to go, to get away from this sincere lieutenant with seemingly bottomless blue eyes and a kind smile, needs to take his money and get away from this place. Sell her compass and start a new life for herself, where she doesn't have to steal in order to get her next meal.
What she does next seems like the easy option as they move into the awkward lull in conversation after laughter. Her eyes drop to his lips and his copy the motion and Killian offers no resistance – in fact he leans in slightly – as she moves to kiss him. She tells herself that it's merely a tool of distraction, but there is a part of herself that has been tempted ever since she laid eyes on him.
The kiss is sloppy, teeth knocking and awkward movement as Killian learns the motions but there is something building that makes her want more. They breathe together as his hands tangle in her hair, one of hers going to his shoulder and the other slowly making its way to his hip.
She has almost untied the strings, deepening the kiss and stills as a hand is gently placed on the one attempting to steal from him.
"Easy, lass," he whispers softly against her lips, "If you need help, you don't have to steal from me, you need only trust me."
His two last words jerk her back to reality. His grip is still gentle on her wrist but she can feel nothing but threat and the prospect of being abandoned once again, so she reacts.
Her jab with her left hand is swift and Killian curses as he reels back. She pulls the remaining strings on the pouch and moves to stand, dreaming of when she can remove the skirts that hamper her. She feels a tug on her waist as Killian reaches for her.
She thinks he's saying something but all she can hear is the pounding in her ears as whatever he's grabbed onto gives way and she's free, out the door and running into the darkness of the night.
Emma only begins to relax when she reaches the tree hollow where she had stashed her clothes and pack earlier in the day and she quickly strips off her dress, wondering if she has time to return it to where she stole it from.
Back in her own clothes, hair secured, Emma feels stronger, like she's replaced her armour and it's only when she's frantically searching through the pile of discarded clothes that she realises a horrible truth.
Killian must have pulled the compass off her belt.
She screams into the night and kicks a tree stump, adding a sore toe to her woes. She double checks her knives and secures her cloak, determined to find the next transport available and get as far away from this town with the gold she actually managed to hang on to.
Killian is in a foul mood as he walks to the ship, a common affliction among the crew as several seem to be nursing sore heads, the price of bad form. Killian's own headache has receded somewhat, his foul mood caused only by a blonde siren. He had known she was suspicious from the moment she swayed over to him, green eyes inviting and Killian had allowed himself to be drawn in, to be charmed.
And still, he couldn't find it in himself to be angry with her – even though she'd taken all his money – he'd seen the fear in her eyes and he is annoyed that a part of him still wants to help her. If he knew anything, he should throw that compass she'd had on her into the sea.
It was currently secured on his person and he curses himself for a fool for not reporting her. He knows that he won't, even though he has Liam now, he won't betray a fellow orphan and he could see that in her all too well.
He turns his mind to the crew as he walks upon the deck, fixing the uniform of one man.
"Apologise, leftenant," the man says as Killian turns.
"It's Leftenant Jones," Killian mutters in response.
"The Captain is in transit with orders from the king himself and before he does this ship will be swabbed from stem to sternum." Killian catches something in the corner of his eye and represses a sigh, "Rum, sailor?"
Both bring up images of the green-eyed lass and Killiam impatiently pushes her out of his mind, telling himself that there is nothing he can do for her.
"Does anyone know what happens to sailors that drink rum?" He asks, meeting the eyes of different members of the crew, "They get drunk. And drunkenness leads to bad form."
He tosses the flask overboard with satisfaction, wishing it was just the rum that plagues him.
He is interrupted from berating the crew further by the timely arrival of Liam and watches in admiration as he interacts with the crew. Liam's presence helps to anchor him as he prepares for whatever mission their King has commanded them to complete. He is able to put the lass to the back of his mind and focus on nothing more than making his brother proud.
Emma scrubs at the stain with more force, cursing drunks and their abilities to spill.
"Careful with that, Emma, if you scrub any harder, we're not going to have a table."
Emma rolls her eyes in Ruby's direction and the other woman only laughs in response.
"It's as clean as it's going to get, why don't you take our little hero to bed and I'll open up. A ship apparently docked today so we might get a bigger crowd."
She nods gratefully as Ruby makes the final preparations and Emma moves over to the booth in the corner. She smiles fondly as she watches Henry quietly colour.
"Mummy?" He asks when he notices her, "Is it time for bed already?"
"Yeah, baby, it is."
Henry raises his arms and she pulls him up, remembering when he was light and dainty and not a chubby four-year-old.
"If you do any more growing, Henry, I'm not going to be able to carry you to bed," she teases.
"No, you have to!"
Emma laughs as she walks past Ruby, who gives Henry a quick good night kiss before she makes her way upstairs.
"We'll have to think of ways to keep you small then," she muses.
"Less carrots!" Henry offers gleefully.
"No, Granny loves giving you carrots. I know," she says brightly, "We'll just have to tickle you!"
Henry laughs and squeals and manages to wriggle out of her arms and run to their bedroom.
"No, more Mummy, I want to grow."
"Okay, fine, you can grow, baby, but to do that you need lots of sleep so go get ready."
Emma gently brushes back hair from Henry's forehead as he snores and she is so glad they have something to call their own now. The room has a draft and they have to share, but he gets three meals a day and a warm bed, more than Emma could provide for the first couple of months of his life.
The Lucas' saved her and more importantly, they saved her son and she wonders if there's any way she could ever repay them.
Rowdy laughter echoes from downstairs, reminding Emma of her work and she gently closes their bedroom door as she leaves.
The room is nearly crowded when Emma returns and Ruby looks pathetically grateful to see her.
"Good, you're back, can you take these to the corner table?"
Ruby is shoving the drinks in Emma's hands before she can get another word in and she mentally prepares herself for a long night.
She puts on her best smile and walks over to the table, placing the drinks down and freezes when she meets blue eyes.
Gone is the ponytail and the uniform, replaced by short hair and black leather. By the way his arm is draped around the woman next to him, he has certainly overcome his shy demeanour. But his eyes haven't changed, they are still astonishingly blue and sincere.
"Hello, lass," he whispers, shattering any illusions Emma may have of going unrecognised.
"It's Emma," she responds, before she leaves his drink and flees to the bar, ignoring the way his eyes track her for the entire night.
She has heard the stories of the fearsome Captain Jones, how he only attacks royal ships and takes no prisoners. Emma knows she should be more wary around a pirate, but he makes it difficult for her with those eyes and that smile.
He comes back the next day for lunch, explaining that his ship was damaged in their last fight and repairs should take another couple of days. She pretends not to care as she delivers his food, taking safety behind her walls.
He puts the first crack in them when Henry runs in, caked in mud from playing with the other children and his eyes widen when they land on Killian.
"Are you a real pirate?" He gasps and Killian laughs.
"Aye, that I am lad."
Henry opens his mouth with more questions and Emma knows there is no stopping him after then, so she quickly cuts in.
"Go pester the captain after you've cleaned up, Henry, Granny will not be happy with you tracking mud everywhere."
Henry dashes off sullenly and Emma turns awkwardly, unsure of how to carry on.
"Seems like a nice lad you've got there."
"He is."
"He's lucky to have you."
The cracks build, especially when Killian is the only man in the room who is more interested in telling wild tales to a young boy than attempting to grope the staff. Attempting being the operative word as the one thing Granny hates more than burnt meatloaf is some drunk manhandling her girls.
Killian leaves four days later and she tries not to feel disappointed as he awkwardly scratches behind his ear while telling her. She doesn't believe him when he tells her he'll be back, she has no reason to and she continues on for weeks, pretending she doesn't want more from life.
And then he comes back.
He always comes back.
He brings silks and jewelry for Emma and epic stories for Henry. She refuses his gifts until he encourages her to sell them and buy something for Henry. The only thing she does keep is a simple golden broach in the shape of a swan and she allows herself a moment to enjoy the way Killian's eyes light up when he sees her wearing it.
He hangs around whenever he's in port and inevitably they begin to open up. Killian tells her why he never reported her theft – the fear of abandonment is too easy to recognise in a fellow orphan – and she admits to why she needed to run and later discovering her pregnancy. He chokes when he talks about his mission, what happened to Liam and how he started on this path seeking justice (vengeance, he later admits) and some days he wakes up and wonders how he got here. Emma feels relived when she finally speaks about her pregnancy, how she considered the idea of giving Henry up but couldn't once she'd held him in her arms, how she did things she never would have contemplated in order to get him food and clothing.
Emma feels lighter around Killian, not just because he's kind to her son or because for some odd reason she implicitly trusts him or because he makes her laugh more than anyone (except Henry).
Granny chides him whenever he swaggers in, asking if his ship has even properly docked yet and his simply winks in her direction, claiming he'd been missing her meatloaf ever since he left port.
They've been dancing around each other for nearly a year now and Emma can feel her final defences failing as Henry talks to Killian about his father.
"He was a naval lieutenant, but he was lost at sea," Henry says innocently, both proud and sad of his idea of a father.
Killian comes up to later, "That's an interesting story you told your lad."
She resists the urge to meet his eyes, "It's better than the truth."
In Emma's darker moments, she had pretended it was true, because the short time she had spent with Killian Jones had made her feel more alive than any experience with Henry's father and she preferred the lie.
Emma is beginning to close up as Killian lingers, shifting on the bar stool nervously.
"I really do need to lock the door soon, Killian, and you have an early start tomorrow," she reminds him.
"I know, lass, can't a man simply want to spend time with you for memories to keep him company in the dark of the night."
"You've got plenty of people to keep you company in the dark of the night," she responds sharply, sick of her jealousy.
His voice is gentle from across the room, "You know I haven't, Emma, ever since that night I saw you again."
Emma looks slowly over to him, everything she fears – she wants – clear on his face. He may have shed the ponytail and now dresses in leather but at heart he is still that kind lieutenant who wanted nothing more than to help her despite the fact she was attempting to steal from him.
For the last couple of years, Emma has focused solely on Henry and she loves her son and considers every sacrifice worth it for his smile but for one night, Emma wants to be selfish. She wants something for herself.
She walks slowly over to him, secure in the knowledge Henry has two competent guardians watching his sleep and enamoured by the way Killian's staring at her, like she's the brightest treasure he could ever find. Emma pauses between his legs, wishing for the courage to move closer.
"Emma," he whispers huskily and that and the look in the eyes is enough to push her forward, lips surging to meet his.
There is no hesitation as Killian's hands wrap in her hair and he's certainly had more practice since their last kiss. His tongue flicks over her lips and she angles the kiss to make it deeper, bodies pushed right together. Her hands wander his body with no other purpose for this kiss and pause on his chest as they hover together, forehead to forehead.
"That was-"
"Just the start, sailor, want to give me a tour of your ship?"
His grin is bright and infectious, "Aye, lass, let us set sail."
Emma had never allowed himself to go his ship before, knowing that it would end with other activities in the captain's cabin but now she explored it curiously, draped in only his loose shirt.
"Anything in particular you're interested in, love?"
Killian is propped up in the bed, sheets pooling around his waist as he watches her with interest.
"Not exactly the cabin of a terrifying pirate captain."
He snorts at that, "What am I supposed to have? Piles of treasures and women chained to the walls?"
Emma scrunches up her nose, "Maybe not that then, but there's more... paper, than I expected."
Killian shrugs and Emma is momentarily distracted by the toned muscles, "Intelligence is everything, love, have to know where ships are if you want to steal from them."
He's making another comment when Emma notices something glinting on the desk and picks it up with awe.
"You kept it?" She whispers and Killian is silent for a beat.
"Aye."
She climbs back under the covers and snuggles into his side, holding the compass between them.
"It doesn't even work properly."
"Quite right, love, the blasted thing has never pointed true north but..."
"But what?" Emma asks as Killian steals a quick kiss.
Emma allows herself a moment to relish the sensation before she pulls back, repeating, "But what?"
Killian sighs, sensing she's not going to let it go, "The ship had taken on some damage and we needed to dock in a port that wouldn't turn us in. We'd had some trouble and I wasn't certain of whom we could count as allies. In a fit of nostalgia, I brought out that compass and decided to let it decide my fate. I followed it to a certain town and stumbled into the first tavern I could find." Emma's breath hitched as he entwined their hands, "And then everything changed."
"You're saying the compass lead you to me?" She asked quietly.
"Believe what you wish, love, that's the story."
Emma had hated fate, destiny, the force that was responsible for her being abandoned time and time again but for once in her life, she wanted more.
"I choose to believe."
"Then come with me."
Emma found some difficulty with the decision but Ruby simply rolls her eyes and tells her she's been waiting for it to happen for months and Granny merely insists that they visit and for Henry to eat his vegetables.
Before she knows it, she's back on the Jolly Roger, bags in her hand and Henry on her hip. They settle into the captain's quarters and none of them can keep the smile of their face.
"Where to, love?" Killian asks.
Emma looks at the compass, pointing in a direction that is decidedly not north and grins, "Wherever the winds take us."
They never look back.
A/N: Ta da, it's kind of sappy which you'll probably appreciate when I put up the next one for this series (I'm sorry in advance).
Have a good morning/day/night,
Adrina Stark.