Inspired by the prompt: Killian stumbles back to the docks, drunken and depressed, and then bumps into Emma as she's avoiding her "date" with Neal.

Spoilers for 3.10.

It was morning.

Killian blinked blearily up at the bright blue sky for a long minute, before he slowly turned to take in his surroundings. He was in an alleyway, slumped against a wall next to a large metal bin that stunk of refuse. He had a mostly-full bottle of rum in his hand, but where had he gotten it, Granny's didn't serve rum –

And then he remembered. Arriving in Storybrooke, standing alone as happy family after family was reunited. Watching Emma with her boy, remembering how much he'd hurt both Milah and Bae, that awful sinking feeling when he decided to back off, to let Neal try freely. Having to watch him try, to listen to him setting up a meeting for the next day, unable to stand it, slamming down his empty glass – he'd asked the dwarves if they knew a place that sold real alcohol, not this swill, and the old woman behind the counter had given him a dirty glare. But dwarves were heavy drinkers and directed him well, to a place called the White Rabbit, where he'd drunk and drunk and drunk and… apparently, at some point been kicked out.

With a long groan, Killian stumbled to his feet. The sun was near vertical in the sky; Emma must be with Neal even now. A part of him – an angry, jealous part – wanted to go back to the diner, to sit down right next to them and eat his own meal, to keep them in his sights and not let Emma forget about him for even a single second. But he knew he wouldn't; that was no way to fight for her, it was disrespectful and dishonorable and would make a lie of everything he'd sworn to them both.

Instead, he wandered down the streets towards the docks, stumbling frequently and taking just as frequent gulps of the rum. Fine then. He'd return home to the Jolly, and sleep the day away. Or perhaps drink some more; the rum last night hadn't taken his mind off Emma in the slightest, but that was probably just because it was far less potent than his own. If he could just pour enough of it down his throat, maybe, maybe for even just a minute, if he could just forget about her… He didn't have anything else to do anyway, he'd brought them back from Neverland and in doing so ended his usefulness. The heroes were in their element now, they didn't need his guidance anymore, Emma didn't need him anymore –

Glancing up the shoreline towards his ship, Killian stumbled to a halt at the sight of a familiar figure. His breath caught; before he knew it he was marching over to her, wobbling with every step, coming to a stop in front of the log on which Emma sat, Emma sat, looking up at him, gods she was so beautiful.

"You're – you shouldn't be here," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I… I come here a lot," Emma replied slowly, looking as though she had no idea of the reason either, eyes wide and startled. "When I need to think about things."

"What do you need to think about," Killian slurred, tipping his head back to take another swig. "Neal is waiting."

"What are you– are you drunk?"

"I heard it all, Emma, about your date." He licked his lips and leaned forward to meet her eyes, bitter but needing her to understand. "It's okay. I won't – I won't get in the way. You can choose him, I won't, I won't…"

His voice cracked and he couldn't continue, had to turn away, couldn't keep looking at her and say goodbye – because this would be goodbye, if she chose Neal today this would the end, he'd lose her without ever having her, and Killian ached at the thought, needed another drink –

"Wait, wait – stop!" Emma leapt to her feet and reached out to snatch the bottle; but he jerked in surprise at the feel of her gloved hand against his, and the rum went flying. The bottle smashed into the log and shattered loudly, dripping its contents out into the sand.

Killian stared down at it for a moment.

"It's all right," he decided, and turned away. "I've got more on my ship."

He'd barely gotten two steps before a rock turned under his foot and he nearly fell – but Emma was there. She caught him, looped his arm over her shoulder with a grunt, and without pausing began to propel them forward towards the docks, her steps strong and steady.

The sudden fall had made his head swim, but that wasn't what had Killian feeling so dizzy now. Emma was touching him, one arm around his waist, the other hand holding onto his to keep it slung over her shoulder, gripping tighter with every step. He could feel her side against his, could feel her touch burning against him even through the thick leather coats they both wore, her hair against his cheek, gods, he couldn't help but turn his head into it slightly, just a little, eyes drooping shut as he nuzzled the side of her head, smelled the delicate vanilla of her hair, gods, Emma, Emma, Emma.

"What," she gritted, yanking him forward, and Killian's eyes snapped open as he realized he'd been sagging limply against her, murmuring her name.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he said, trying to pull away, to stand on his own, to let her go, "Emma, I'll be fine, I'm sorry, go –"

"If I let go, you're gonna walk off a dock and drown," Emma snapped, and held on tighter. "God, you stink, were you drinking all night?"

"Aye, there was…" Killian trailed off, trying to collect his scattered thoughts as Emma steered them down the wharf towards the Jolly Roger. "What were you thinking about?"

"What?"

"On, on the –" he swung around to gesture with his hook at the shore, and Emma cursed as she twisted with him, nearly tripping off the side of the dock on which they stood. "You said you come here to think. About what?"

Emma sighed, and pulled him forcibly up the ramp onto his ship. "Don't worry about it."

"Was it Neal?"

Emma let go suddenly, stepping away and crossing her arms over her chest angrily. Killian staggered as he lost her support, but managed to keep his balance with his hand on the mast, and turned to face her, swallowing hard.

"No, it wasn't Neal!" Emma snapped. "I have better things to think about than – why does everyone think it's Neal?!"

Killian's breath caught, a battered hope flickering to life in his chest. He swallowed again, throat suddenly very dry, and wet his lips before speaking. "I. I hoped it wasn't. But I didn't want to… No," he said abruptly, watching the tense set of her lips, her eyebrows furrowed down and her arms tucked tight into her sides, cold and defensive and alone and – "No, that's not it. It's not about him, or me. What's wrong, Emma?"

Emma blinked, and her hands dropped to her sides. Her mouth fell open slightly, and she stared at him in shock. "I… how did you…"

Killian grinned, letting himself fall back against the mast, spreading his arms wide. "Open book, love."

Emma smiled back, a little quirk of her lips, as sad as it was pleased, but at him, his heart beat faster, he couldn't breathe, she was supposed to be with Neal right now. "It's – it might be nothing."

"If it has you so worried, darling, I highly doubt that." Killian shrugged as if that was all there was to it – and it was – but Emma's smile vanished, she took a sharp breath and then stared, like he'd just said something miraculous. Took a step closer, and another, closer, that look on her face, he couldn't help but hope, couldn't move or breathe or –

She took his hand in hers. "Not here. Come with me," she breathed, glancing up sharply then back to him, waiting until he nodded, helpless, she'd taken off her gloves in the last few minutes and her fingers fit perfectly with his own, sent sparks shooting down his spine, she pulled him through his ship and he followed, eyes caught on their linked hands, oblivious to all else.

He looked up when they stepped into his cabin and Emma shut the door behind them. She pushed him towards the bed and for a moment all thought left him; he stumbled forward, yanking off his coat and dropping it to the floor, turning as he fell back onto the bed, reaching out to – see her standing several feet away.

Killian sat up quickly.

"Uh. Okay," Emma said, staring at him with wide eyes, and he had to close his own and take a deep breath, trying to will the embarrassment away. "I think something's wrong with Henry."

He opened his eyes, suddenly very alert. "What do you mean?"

"I… don't know, exactly," Emma was staring straight at him, in much the same way as when she tried to evaluate his words for a lie. "He's just acting weird. He wanted to stay with Regina last night, and he didn't care at all about his storybook, and… He just seems off. I think Pan might be doing something. Or – or the shadow."

Killian nodded slowly, trying to clear his muzzy mind and think of what to do. Gods, this was not the right time to be drunk. "Has he escaped the box?"

Emma's face went slack again, in clear surprise, but the expression only lasted for a moment before she was frowning thoughtfully again. She grabbed a chair from the table and swung it around to sit facing him on the bed. "No, I don't think so. And it looks like the shadow's still attached to your sail, but I thought – maybe the spell isn't working properly? Either on the box or the shadow."

"It's possible," Killian agreed. "Or it could be a spell Pan cast in Neverland, before his defeat. Regina should check Henry to see if there's any magic working on him… Emma?"

She was staring at him again, leaning in, eyes softening. "You really believe me," she said quietly.

"I – Emma," he said, voice dropping to match hers, swaying forward until they were mere inches apart, "of course I do. Why–"

She shook her head, a gentle smile on her face, and suddenly the mood shifted. The air was heavy, thrumming with anticipation. Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced from his eyes to his lips and back, and Killian couldn't help but look himself. Her smile slowly dropped, as her lips fell open just slightly, he could feel the seriousness of the moment settling in, he leaned in just a little more and heard her breathe in sharply – glanced up to her eyes and she looked so nervous, but just as mesmerized as he felt, she nodded slightly, gods, he couldn't breathe, she was giving him permission, hovering just out of reach, inviting him to close the distance, he couldn't hold back anymore, he –

fell off the bed.

Emma jerked back to avoid him as Killian leaned too far and lost his balance, smashing hard onto the floor, groaning miserably as pain ratcheted through his head, trying desperately to bite back the bile that was suddenly rising in his throat. He could hear her laughing above him, only to cut off suddenly when he began to pant, dry-heaving as nausea overtook him.

"Oh my god, I forgot you were drunk," he heard her gasp, but paid more attention to the knees hitting the floor beside his head, the hand that rubbed his back soothingly. "I can't believe I forgot, oh my god, okay, uh. Hook, don't you dare vomit on me."

Slowly, he regained control of himself, swallowing thickly with his forehead pressed to the cool floor. He took an extra moment just to breathe, timing himself to the slow warm slide of Emma's palm up and down his back.

Rolling his head to the side, he attempted a charming grin. "Where were we?"

Emma snorted, and took her hand away. "I think we were getting you in bed."

Killian took the hand she offered him, staggering upright awkwardly. "Excellent. We may be a tight fit, but I promise that's part of the charm."

She rolled her eyes, yanking the covers back before pushing him into his bed none-too-gently. "Yeah, I don't think so. You need to lay down –" she pushed on his chest, and he shivered, flopping back into the pillows, "–and sleep it off."

Emma pulled the blankets back over him, then made as if to stand. Killian reached out and caught her arm.

"Wait," he said, and hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. By the look in her eyes, he did. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to tell Regina to check Henry for Pan's magic," Emma said. "And you are going to sober up, so that you'll actually be able to help when we figure out what's wrong."

Killian's heart skipped a beat, and he stared up at her, determined and brave, strong and so beautiful, sitting over him with her hair dangling down towards his face, smiling at him, gods so beautiful, he loved her, she was supposed to be with Neal right now but instead she was caring for him, including him in her plans, almost kissing him, he couldn't breathe at all, he loved her, gods, there weren't words.

"Emma," he whispered, emotion choking his voice.

She smiled a little wider, and gently pulled her arm out of his grip. Slowly, she reached up and slid her hand across his forehead, into his hair, his eyes dropping shut in pleasure as her nails scraped across his scalp.

"Go to sleep, Hook," she said, sounding very soft and far away.