chapter three is officially here! wow. i'm actually getting pretty decent at updating regularly, aren't i? yay! i feel like there's going to be about six chapters for this one so we're about half way there! hope you enjoy this chapter, everyone. but, not sure if you've heard of this - i'm participating in the cs big bang which means i have 50k words to write for a fic in not such a long time so updates will be rare for a while. sorry guys!

- shauna! xo

The third time she sees Killian Jones is by far the most unexpected and equally as mortifying.

At least, that's what sober Emma has determined.

The evening before, Ruby, rather spontaneously decides that herself, Emma and Mary Margaret could go clubbing and of course, Mary Margaret as usually bows out (damn her and her excuse of having a baby) but as usual, Emma is not quite that lucky. And so, she ends up out. All night. And if she's honest it's all a bit of a blur.

She remembers dancing and tequila. Lots and lots of tequila.

She remembers innuendo's, a flash of blue eyes and an infuriatingly gorgeous smirk vaguely somewhere in the drunk haze and she swears she can even hear his voice and the way his tongue curls around his words carefully in that sinful accent of his - though, she was quite sure he put it on a bit. She bet, it was to impress her. Mostly. It was more than obvious by this point that he wanted to get inside her pants.

And, so when she startles with a wake, her mouth parting on a loud groan as her hand reaches up to grasp at her head, she's not all that sure that she didn't dream the entire thing.

Her mouth is on fire, she realises, as she sinks back into the overly comfortable mattress, her fingernails digging harshly into the skin of her forehead and honestly, she's quite sure she would rather be dead at this very moment.

Especially, so when she practically jumps five feet into the air when she hears a low chuckle, followed by the vibrations as the mattress wobbled slightly when a figure joined hers onto the mattress.

"Well," the voice says cockily, "When I said I'd get you into my bed, this isn't quite how I'd imagined it."

Her eyes fly open to see a pair of unfairly blue eyes staring down at her.

"Killian," she groans, barely resisting the urge to face palm.

He smirks.

"In the flesh."

She glares.

"What are you doing here?"

The man in question snorts and shoots her an eye roll (god, he was dramatic).

His hand pats the bed lightly as he raises his eyebrows.

"Not to complain or anything, love," he starts, voice low and quiet as though he knows she won't be able to handle anything else and really, he probably does. "But you are in my bed."

Her forehead crumples as she mulls over those words and then she groans, dropping her head back against the pillows when the movement creates a dull pain in her head.

Really, it takes way too long for the words to register with her - longer than she's comfortable with anyway.

So, when she jumps up with a start, headache and dry mouth forgotten and her eyes widen, she barely notices the grin that spreads on his lips. Her own eyes are focussed on glaring at him, no matter how much it hurts.

She crosses her arms over her chest on a loud huff, hip popping to the side as she narrows her eyes.

"What the hell am I doing in your bed?"

His smirk widens if that's possible.

"Well," he licks his lips in that sinful way of his, "Where would you like me to start, love?"

His tone is light hearted, clearly meant as a joke but her glare and stance don't falter as she stares back at him.

He sighs at her glare.

"You are in my bed," he repeats, though his tone is soft and lacks any real annoyance. "I'm not the one in the wrong here, sweetheart."

Though it hates to glare, she continues and huffs at the endearment.

"Not your sweetheart," she corrects.

"Right," he nods. "Sorry, love."

Honestly, if she could murder him mentally, he'd be fifty feet under and he knows it too.

He merely grins.

"You mauled me," he says suddenly and she chokes (on what? she's not quite sure) but she does nonetheless.

"Excuse me?"

Killian's smirk keeps growing wider by the second.

"Here I was," he sighs as though it's such a hardship, "Being good, myself, and staying in for the night and then there you were, knocking on my door - very loudly I might add, we do have neighbours, Swan. When I eventually opened the door, there you were, pressing yourself so sinfully against me. What's a man to do with a woman rubbing herself up against him like that?"

Her eyes widen as she splutters.

"You-we - I?"

She doesn't seem to be capable of full sentences but Killian merely shakes his head firmly.

"No," he says carefully. "Not in the state you were in, Swan. I do pride myself on being a gentleman."

She snorts at that.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity reflecting through his features.

"But," he continues, "I wouldn't not be open to a repeat performance, considering you were sober, after all."

There's heat - a whole lot of heat - behind the sentence that she ignores as her eyes focus on him.

"And that's it?"

As embarrassing as drunk Emma practically throwing herself on him, she can deal with it.

He shrugs.

"Took me a while to convince you to sleep," he tells her. "You're quite the amusing one when you're drunk do you know that, lass?"

She rolls her eyes.

"I'm more than aware of how I get when Ruby gets me high on tequila."

"Now that I'd love to say," he leers forward, eyebrows raised.

She snorts, eyes rolling and chucks the first thing she finds at him - it happens to be a pillow and though soft, will do for now.

"Perv," she comments though it lacks any real heat.

"You love it," he retorts with a wink before he's moving, jumping up from the bed and she could punch him from the way he jostles her and the mattress beneath her but she's concentrating on dulling the headache.

"That should help," he nods to the water on the side of the desk and her heart flutters at the sweet thought as her eyes meet his once more and she knows they must softened quite a lot. "Along with the aspirin."

She notices the tablet and smiles softly.

"Thank you," she tells him.

He nods.

"Now," he grins, "Might I interest you in breakfast, m'lady?"

He bows dramatically and that has her laughing, head dropping backwards, despite the headache as she picks up the aspirin. She hums underneath her breath.

"Depends," she grins, "Am I going to get a full cooked English breakfast?"

Killian smirks right back.

"Whatever the lady wishes."

He's almost out the door, hand lingering on the door knob when she calls him back.

"Killian?"

He hums, giving her a nod.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure that's all that happened last night."

He seems to hesitate slightly and that's enough for her to realise he's hiding something but then he's shooting her that boyish grin of his and she forgets what she was thinking. She hates that he has that effect on him.

"I told you, Swan, apart from the trying to get into my pants situation, you have nothing to feel embarrassment over."

So, she sits at the table with him, matching grins on their faces as they eat together.

But, still, she can't help but think he's keeping something from her.

Seriously, though, what could she have possibly done last night that she'd regret that much?