Come Unstuck

Mary Margaret was going to kill her.

Emma had to give her friend credit, she did know how to pick the swankiest, poshest spots for these things ... though she supposed the effect might be a little ruined by the fact that she was bare-assed on the marble countertop in the fanciest bathroom she'd ever seen in her life.

Mary Margaret was going to kill her.

Emma's eyes flickered to the clock that hung on the wall above the door of the little sitting area - that's how upscale this place was, there was a sitting area before you even got to the bathroom here - but it was hard to focus on the numbers, or anything at all, really, all things considered. She was pretty sure she still had a half hour before she was supposed to meet her friends.

In this very restaurant.

With a guy that David knew from work that they were setting her up with.

Fuck.

She whimpered a little then. It was kind of hard to be worried about her impending demise, or the blind date that was likely to go as well as they ever did (which was to say, was going to royally, completely, utterly suck), when there was an absolutely gorgeous guy who was only too happy to have his face between her thighs at the moment. He was absolutely devouring her in a way that she was fairly certain wars had been started over.

Of all the stupid, what the fuck were you thinking situations Emma had found herself in ... this one might just take the fucking cake.

But goddamn.

Her fingers tugged a little at the thick dark hair between them, and he groaned, the sound going straight through her and causing her to cry out as her inner muscles started to spasm, even though that was the absolute last thing she needed to be doing right now.

All of this, really, was the last thing she should be doing right now, but it didn't stop her from giving his hair another little yank, pulling him away from her. "Better hurry up," she hissed out lowly, her whole body still trembling, as she earned herself the cockiest smirk she'd ever seen in her life from Mr. Really Bad Idea.

"Anyone ever tell you how bloody fucking good you taste?"

Bastard made a big show of licking his lips and leaning in, catching her lips in a fierce kiss that stole her breath, before she could give any kind of response at all.

She didn't even care that she could still taste herself there, because damn this boy could kiss. She reached down between them, tugging at his belt buckle and shoving his trousers down his hips, her fingers curling around a sizable cock that she couldn't wait to have inside her.

"You usually in this big a hurry, love?" he breathed out then, pulling back a little, his own voice hitched and strained as her fingers worked along his length, using his teeth to tear the corner off a little foil wrapper.

"Usually I don't have somewhere else to be," Emma mumbled against his lips, kissing him again as she took the condom from him, unrolling it over his length and guiding him to her soaking wet sex. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this turned on. It was entirely possible that she never had been. Everything about this guy seemed designed to press every single "get Emma horny" button. And then some that she hadn't even realized she'd possessed.

"Fair enough." He brushed her hand away from him then, taking a firm hold of her hips and filling her in one fluid movement that set off another orgasm immediately. He silenced her cries by kissing her again until she was dizzy and breathless. "Bloody fuck," he hissed against her lips, teeth scraping over hers enough that she knew they'd be swollen, and she didn't actually care.

Her fingers dug into his shoulderblades as they rocked together, an urgency to their movements. The door was locked, but still, this wasn't exactly the sorta place that lent itself to quickies in the bathroom. And she sure the fuck hadn't been expecting the foreplay.

She was beyond words, not quite certain if she was still coming from the time before, or if she was coming again, but she'd give this guy his due. He sure didn't leave a lady hanging while he got his rocks off, and that was something entirely new in Emma-land. Her head fell back as the pleasure coursed through her, his lips making a hot trail down her jawline, along the column of her throat. His stubble scraped her skin, and he sucked gently at her pulsepoint, his tongue flicking out over her skin, making her shudder.

"God, you feel good," she groaned lowly, tightening her legs around his waist and drawing him just a little bit deeper. She wasn't sure if it was her words or the way she moved, but whatever it was seemed to be the magic trick that sent him over the edge as well. He muttered something utterly filthy against the curve of her neck as she felt his whole body stiffen with his own release, and it sent another jolt of lust straight through her.

He trailed his lips back up along her throat, to her own lips once more, and this time the kiss he placed there bordered on chaste, which was really kind of absurd.

He grinned at her then, his eyes - bluer than eyes had any right to be - finding hers. "That was fun," he said, pulling away slowly to get himself cleaned up, but not before he helped her down off the countertop she'd been sat upon. He didn't waste any time, setting himself to rights again, looking for all the world as presentable as he'd been when she'd met him - less than an hour ago. "We should do that again sometime." He backed out of the room, giving her a cheeky grin and a wink.

Emma just shook her head, laughing a little to herself as she watched him exit the restroom. Not likely, but she appreciated the sentiment. She gave the clock another glance - shit. She was going to be late

Mary Margaret was going to kill her, then dig up the body with David's help, conduct a seance, summon her back to life, just to kill her again.

And if she showed up looking like she'd just had a hell of a fuck in the bathroom ... well, she was pretty sure there were no deities known to man that could possibly save Emma from the wrath of Mary Margaret in that unfortunate situation.

But really, she was kind of the scum of the earth, wasn't she? What kinda person got off with some random stranger in the bathroom less than an hour before she was supposed to go on a date?

(But God, it had kind of been totally worth it.)

Emma honestly didn't even know how it had come to this - pun intended. She'd been dreading this whole thing all week, ever since Mary Margaret had excitedly told her that there was a new guy at David's office who was, quote, Just perfect for you, Emma. No, really, this one is it.

She'd heard that one before. Several times in fact. And it always ended the same way. So-called Mr. Right never was. The guy would be perfectly nice, and dinner would be pleasant, but that spark of whatever it took to make it, whatever it was that David and Mary Margaret had - it would just be missing. Mary Margaret liked to chastise Emma that she was just being too particular, just looking for reasons to run ... but it wasn't at all the truth.

Emma just knew - she'd never felt whatever it was that she'd know when she felt it. The reason not to run. The thing that made her want to stay, to see how it all turned out. She'd never felt that, not since Neal.

And she didn't think she ever would.

Just like in the past, Emma had shown up to the restaurant more than an hour early. She liked to get a feel for the place - and have a few drinks, truthfully - before trying to get through the inevitably awkward dinners that would follow.

Somehow she'd ended up at the bar next to him. Blue eyes and dark hair and a dangerous aura about him, looking a little bit like a cross between a pirate and a rock star, and it shouldn't have worked, but on him, it did. Emma had never met anyone who had instantly had the kind of effect on her that he did. The kind that had her shifting in her seat when he so much as looked at her.

A drink to dispel the pre-blind-date jitters had become two, and then another, and the next thing she knew, she heard herself asking if he had anywhere he needed to be any time soon, and he'd leaned in and all but growled in her ear, "In you," and Emma couldn't even be pissed at his audacity, because she had been hoping he was going to say that.

It was definitely the stupidest thing she'd ever let herself do.

Stupid and destructive and mindblowing.

She would have been pissed at herself for passing up that opportunity, all truth be told. Especially in hindsight - he had completely rocked her world, and it was probably a good thing they hadn't exchanged names, cuz that just seemed like a whole of trouble waiting to happen.

The sort of trouble that Emma tried to avoid. Maybe part of the reason she let Mary Margaret set her up so many times was because deep down she knew, as much as her friend loved her and wanted the best for her ... she would never find Emma the sort of guy that made her blood sing, the sort of guy she would crave in the midnight hour.

The sort of guy like that one had been.

She didn't need that in her life for anything more than ... well, to scratch that itch. That's all it was, after all. That's all she'd been doing. It had been awhile for her, and she'd been feeling good ... no hot-blooded woman in their right mind was going to pretend having the attention of a guy that looked like that wasn't a huge ego boost, right there.

She was trying to convince herself that that was all it was. She ignored the way her hands shook as she straightened out her dress and tried to fix her hair. He'd had his hands in it a fair bit, but she managed to make it look like it wasn't post-sex hair.

She managed to mostly forget the way he'd felt, the way he'd moved, the feel of his lips on her skin, the words he'd said, the way ...

Shaking her head, she shoved the thoughts from her mind. She didn't need to be thinking about the guy she'd fucked in the bathroom while she was at dinner with her friends.

She was pretty sure that was frowned upon.

She quickly reapplied some gloss to her lips before taking another look at herself in the mirror. She was flushed, and there were some obvious scruff marks on her neck (as well as in other places, but no one would see those), but with her hair fluffed just so, they were barely noticeable.

With one more quick glance in the mirror, Emma decided this was as good as it was likely to get, and she made her way out of the bathroom and into the restaurant proper. It didn't take her long at all to spot Mary Margaret, who stood up to wave from their table as soon as she spotted Emma.

Emma's smiled a little, making her way across the room toward her friends and whoever this poor sap that they'd decided to inflict upon her tonight was. She slowed a little, her movements sort of halting, as she caught sight of the back of whoever he was, in the split second before Mary Margaret spoke. Dark hair that she was pretty fucking sure she'd just had between her legs not ten minutes ago.

Surely not ... surely this was not happening to her right now.

"I told you she'd be here any minute," her friend chirped cheerfully, smiling broadly. She motioned for Emma to join them. "Emma, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is Emma Swan."

Emma felt everything sort of zero into focus in that moment, all on him, as he stood up to greet her. He had the same sort of fakey-nice smile plastered to his lips that she knew all too well, the kind you put on when you were trying to play nice with the person you were being set up with for the sake of your friends.

That smile disappeared however, only to be replaced with an almost sinister smirk, and a cocked eyebrow, the second their eyes met.

"Nice to meet you, Emma," he drawled out, extending his hand. Emma sucked in sharp breath, trying to steady herself out, before reaching to shake his hand.

She should've known he'd do something stupid, like pull her in just a little bit closer, just enough to set her off-balance. She managed to save face though, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "Likewise, Killian," she said, not sure if she actually meant for her voice to come out in lower, huskier tone that it did. She definitely didn't mean for her gaze to drop to his lips the way that it did then. But it was kinda hard to not be distracted ...

Luckily, he didn't say or do anything else, because she really wasn't sure how she'd explain that one to her friends. Because in no way, on no planet, had she ever expected her friends to set her up with someone like him.

He held her chair out for her, and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own. She couldn't exactly call him out for being a gentleman, because, to be frank, he'd been gentlemanly as fuck only a little while ago.

It was only after they sat down, Mary Margaret and David maintaining a steady flow of chatter for their sakes, that the first little cracks in the facade started to show. At first, Emma was confused as to what was making the silverware on the table rattle just a bit, the wine in their glasses slightly sloshing - Mary Margaret and David didn't seem to notice, but when she chanced a sidelong glance at Killian, she figured it out.

His shoulders were shaking with barely concealed laughter, and it was all Emma could do not to burst out laughing herself. She quickly reached for her wineglass, taking a long drink to hide the grin that was forming on her lips as she tried to avoid looking back at him, and failing miserably.

"Stop," she hissed out lowly enough that only he, sitting beside her in the booth, would be able to hear her. He chortled a little, reaching for his own wine, and Emma rolled her eyes heavenward. He was stealthy as hell, this one.

If she ended up having to explain that she'd fucked this guy in the bathroom to take the edge off of meeting her blind date, she was going to be so pissed.

"Everything okay?" David asked, brow furrowed as he looked between the two of them from his spot across the table.

Luckily, they didn't have to answer, as the waiter appeared then. "May I interest you in any appetizers this evening?"

Emma honestly didn't know what was wrong with her, maybe she'd had too much to drink already ... maybe she was still sort of on a high from earlier. She glanced at her menu, pretending to be perusing the selection of appetizers. "I think Killian already ate."

The sound of him choking on his wine next to her was pretty damn satisfying, she couldn't lie. And now she was the one trying to hold back her laughter.

Of course this was happening to her.

But for once in her life, Emma just went with it. It was just dinner, after all. With a guy who actually knew how to treat a woman.

What was the worst that could happen?

(It turns out, the worst that could happen was the smug "I told you so" whispered in her ear by her best friend as she pinned the gauzy white veil in Emma's blonde hair one year, seven months, and eight days later.)