When we dance, you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
Killian had never raced out of a business meeting faster. Robin, barely on his heels, jumped into the cab as Killian was already giving the destination orders.
"Christ, man. What's your hurry?" he huffed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, exhaling a deep breath of smoke. "I thought that went well."
Killian scoffed. "It was bloody awful, how could you possibly think otherwise?"
"Honestly, Jones, I think we have 'em."
"Your blind, my friend."
"Arendelle, Inc. would be crazy to go with anyone else to merge. Our art department certainly needs an upgrade, especially since we just landed Mills Furs."
Killian snapped his gaze over to him, his focus loosening from the music already calling. "You didn't tell me we landed Mills Furs, not officially."
Robin gave a sad smile, exhaling another puff of smoke and fidgeting with the cigarette with his fingers. He was deep in thought, the corners of his eyes tinged with a look of regret. "Just found out today. We have a trial photoshoot on Friday. If all goes well, they'll sign the paperwork. If we get Arendelle on board for the merge, it's in the bag."
Killian slapped Robin's knee playfully. "Atta boy, that is some good news. You deserve a drink."
"Or a bottle."
-/-
Emma didn't think she had ever smiled this much. Five minutes in the jazz club and she was already feeling like she was in another world. Strings of lights draped from one end of the room to the other, a canopy of stars. There was a quartet up on the stage and plenty of dancers in the middle of the room, swinging and sashaying in their evening wear. Emma, in a knee length, merlot-colored dress that Elsa whistled at (and caused her to blush), excitedly found a booth and sat down. Elsa had brought along her sister, Anna, her brother-in-law, Kristoff and her current beau, William ("You can call me, Will. She likes William," he teased lovingly at Elsa, causing her to blush). They all worked for Arendelle, Inc., spending their days building and creating. Emma could certainly get used to hanging around other artistic souls. Her nerves throughout the day had eased, especially after the Arendelle owners-Elsa and Anna's aunt and uncle-had given her a big hug once she had introduced herself ("Sorry, they're just like that," Elsa apologized. Emma didn't care, it felt like home). Her day was spent giving her life story repeatedly-but graciously-and laughing at the antics that Will and Kristoff pulled getting children to smile for her first photoshoot. She missed Minnesota, but this certainly wasn't a bad trade.
They had ordered drinks and she was not even 2 sips in before a gentleman-Emma considered this term loosely-sat down next to her, the smell of alcohol practically drowning out the stale smell of bad cologne and desperation.
"Well, aren't you a sight….for sore something," he managed to mumble, the consonants all mashed together as they left his mouth. Anna giggled, covering her lips with her palm. Kristoff and Will, looking at each other, waiting for the first to crack, pursed their lips and stared. "How about we dance?"
Emma gave him a nervous smile as an uptempo number began to fill the place. Excited shouts from the crowd wove through the room. "Are you going to bother telling me your name first?"
"It's...Neal. Neal...oh...what is it? Just call me Neal."
"Well, Neal No-Last-Name, I'm sorry but I'm here with my friends and-"
He smiled, shaking his head. "Now, now, are you going to tell me your name?" he asked, his voice mocking.
"Emma. Emma Swan."
-/-
Killian's eyes popped open as the sound of her voice interrupted his musical reverie. Good god, don't turn around, he told himself. He looked over at Robin and the two girls who had managed to sneak into their booth without him realizing. An eager brunette had cozied up next to him, her manicured red nails not-so-subtly grazing his hand as she reached for her martini glass.
It couldn't be, could it?
He slightly turned his head, the sweat starting to accumulate in his dress shirt collar. He only saw the curve of her cream-colored shoulder, the bold, dark red color of her dress strap and a pinned bob of blonde hair.
"Come on, doll. Let's get on the floor, you are too pretty to be sitting down in the corner of a room."
"Neal, that's very nice of you but-"
"It would make my life, darling. You don't understand. Give this man...a night he'll never forget."
There was a round of snickering laughter. "Not looking too good for you, pal," a man at her table had shouted. This Neal person either didn't hear, didn't comprehend or just simply ignored him as he went down to his knees in front of their table. Killian's eyebrow shot up, complete disbelief in watching this fool.
"Oh for heaven's sake, fine, one dance." Neal shot up like a dart, taking Emma's hand. Killian watched her walk towards him, Neal's hands quickly landing on her hips, Killian's eyes drifting down the open back of her dress and down to her curved bottom. Killian's tongue pressed the inside of his mouth, his fingertips practically holding his lips together.
Don't even think, you idiot. She'll know exactly who you are and you'd blow it in a heartbeat. Unless…no. You couldn't pull it off.
He continued to watch as Neal twirled her and spun himself in god awful ways. Killian downed the last of his rum from his cognac glass (unconventional, though he didn't care about the bartender's judgment), weighing his options. Once she had turned and he saw her in full, his mind was made up.
She was breathtaking. Her smile lit up her face like sunshine, so much so that he found himself smiling, more so from her than Neal's ludicrous dance moves. A couple of loose curls fell along the sides of her face, her cheekbones pink, tinged with embarrassment. She obligated Neal though, secretly counting down the seconds until the song's end. It was a soft mambo playing while the band rested, her hips trying to find the sync with Neal's. She certainly did try. A couple of times, she downright laughed, her full smile lighting up the room.
Maybe...he started telling himself.
"Jones! Earth to Jones!" Robin called. Killian waved his hand to him to shut him up, not even bothering to look back. The song had finally ended, the band picking up their instruments and starting to play a bluesy, New Orleans number. Emma tried to put Neal on his way but he continued with the same mambo beat, oblivious to the slower song change. Killian found himself standing up, buttoning his jacket and walking towards them, his brain and...downstairs brain clearly at odds. He tapped Neal on the shoulder, trying to break his fevered-now borderline tribal-dance. He felt Emma's eyes land on him, a faint smile coming from her lips.
"Excuse me, sir. I was wonderin' if I may just cut right in while you pour yourself another drink."
What is that? A New Orleans accent? Jones, you fool. Though, at least you picked up something down there other than a hangover and a box full of records.
Neal looked at him smugly, eyebrows furrowed, but Killian stretched out his arm, opening the path for him to go to the bar. To his surprise, Neal smiled, tipping his imaginary hat. Then to Emma, "I'll be right back, beautiful. You just stay right here."
Killian smiled, his outstretched arm closing the space and offering Emma's hand. "Thank you so much," Emma said, mid laugh. She let out a sigh. "That was...quite something." She placed her hand in his, her other hand going to his shoulder. Killian placed his other hand along the bottom of her back, briefly touching her skin, her body warm against his. They both inhaled together as he pulled her in, her mouth opening slightly as her eyes looked up at him through her long, black lashes. How, how will you get away with this?
"It certainly was, darlin'. What a shame to put a good mambo to waste."
"Yes, well, it was certainly a memorable one. But thank you, uh-"
"Oh," Killian stopped their dance to give a short bow. "James Hook, ma'am." He resumed their position again.
"Emma Swan. That's certainly not a New York accent, Mr. Hook."
"Please, call me James, and you guessed right. New Orleans, born and bred."
"Ahh, a Cajun fellow. Tell me, is the city as glorious as they say it is?"
"Even better, cheri," he replied, getting lost in the memory of walking down Bourbon Street in the middle of a drunken stupor. New Orleans was great, but he didn't necessarily want to go back there. "A lovely lady such as yourself would fit in like a queen."
He spun her, her body turning 360 degrees slowly, then returning back to him, her chest now grazing the cotton of his jacket. He cleared his throat, consciously telling himself to keep James Hook in check. James Hook needs the accent and he needs to be a perfect gentleman...you imbecile.
-/-
She rested her chin on his collarbone, her eyes peeking out to her booth where her new friends where huddled, staring at her. Elsa was smiling, the boys were hollering, toasting their drinks to her, Anna was giving a big thumbs up. She giggled, causing his head to break away from hers slightly. Don't mess this up, Emma.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked, his voice low and sweet, his eyes darting between hers and her lips. She saw a flash of skin flutter between his jaw bone and cheek, almost in time with the trumpet crooning.
"Yes, I-I would. Dirty. Martini! A dirty martini, I mean," she fumbled, her eyes wide. Way to go.
Killian laughed softly, his hand dropping but grazing the length of her arm on the way, causing her skin to raise. "Oui, mademoiselle. Try to evade any dance thieves in my absence."
"You bet," she whispered, smiling as he walked away, his head turning back to look at her. He brushed back a lock of hair that loosened in front of his face, his eyes still keeping her in focus just enough to not fall to the ground in front of him. He motioned for two drinks from the waiter. Emma heard another holler from her booth and felt fire in her cheeks. As Killian walked back over, she tried to keep the smile tucked away. He handed her a martini glass, another one in his hand. He clinked hers, keeping his knuckles in contact with hers. Their foreheads were in dangerous proximity, the warm of his breath (rum and wintergreen) closing in. Couples moved in sync around them, blurred from view, making the makeshift stars above them sway.
"To finding the right dance partner," he toasted.