#1: on a train together and the train is stopped in the middle of nowhere for some reason AU
(they say to write about what you know so I wrote about shitty French trains.)
(this is a thing that really happened to me a few years back. the camel trivia also happened. wish I was kidding.)

Having to chase someone across the border happens rarely, if not ever, and it always ends in Canada or, if she's lucky, Mexico. So having to chase someone in Europe of all places? Jack-fucking-pot. It feels like holidays more than anything, those few days spent in London – even if she spends them on her laptop in a hotel room and not outside, visiting the National Gallery or going to see Les Mis. Still the change of scenery doesn't hurt – the enormous paycheck waiting for her neither, nor the fact that her boss pays for everything from hotel to food. So when she finds that the guy moved to France of all places, well, she's not one to complain.

The train, on the other hand, she does complain about. She's not used to it, more comfortable with her frequent-flyer miles and carry-on bag than with the overpriced mini-bar and freezing air conditioning. Not to mention they stopped at Marne-la-Vallée and now her car is full of Mickey Mouse balloons and over-excited children after a whole day spent at Disneyland. She tries to burry herself in a book – something by some August Booth guy that hits too close to home for her to be truly comfortable in her reading – but no amount of music can tune down the low yells and laughs. How great.

It's late and she's tired and all she wants is for the train to finally arrive at the station so she can go to her hotel and sleep until morning – she needs her eight hours, the criminal will wait.

But, of course – of freaking course – things don't go as planned.

She notices the train slowing down for long minutes until it stops altogether, the lights flickering for a second or two before switching off. Cue to scared high-pitched screams from the brats. She tears her earphones off, sitting straighter in her seat as she cranes her neck for an employee – where's the guy with the stupid cap that checked her ticket an hour before

"Freaking great."

She realises she's said that out loud when the guy sitting by the other side of the aisle starts chuckling. She glances at him, sitting alone at a four-person table, his laptop open to some Excel page in front of him.

"First train journey across France?" She notices the Irish accent first, the smirk next. "You never forget your first."

She's tired and annoyed and the kids won't stop making noise, but the stranger's grin is contagious so Emma finds herself smiling back. The fact he's quite handsome helps too. "So the rumours are true."

"France: good cuisine, shitty railway. Yup." The 'p' pops in his mouth, tongue against his teeth mesmerizing her for a second there.

The lights flicker back to life, but the train doesn't budge, having her sigh deeply. Whatever is happening, it looks like it's not going to happen any time soon. She pressed her nose to the window, as if hoping to see something outside, but she only finds the never-ending French countryside, sun setting slowly but surely. Because being in the middle of nowhere is obviously the cherry on the top. A sigh escapes her lips as she leans back against her seat, eye closing on their own accord.

"Don't worry," Tall dark and handsome says, "I'm sure we'll be back on tracks in a tick."

She rolls her head to the side to look at him, frowning. "Used to it, huh?"

"Aye. My society is based in London but I need to travel to Marseille more often than not. Seen a lot of strikes and accidents and late trains through the years. Even a camel on the rails, once."

She grins at the anecdote but, still. "Why don't you fly? Surely it must be quicker. And cheaper."

"Afraid of flying," he shrugs.

She grins, almost mockingly, but he only pouts at her instead of taking offense. "I'm Emma, by the way. Emma Swan."

"Killian Jones. And what are you doing so far from home, Emma Swan?"

Her name rolls on his tongue in an almost pornographic way, blue eyes sparkling with mischief as his lips curl into yet another smirk. She tries not to be affected by this, because it is quite obvious that he's doing it on purpose and she doesn't have time for players like him – tries, and fails miserably. So miserably that it takes her a moment before remembering there was a question hidden there somewhere.

"I'm on a job. Bail bondsperson."

His pout can only be described as impressed – they always are, as far as her job is concerned, never imagining for a second there that someone like her captures criminals for a living. She wouldn't be good at it if her looks weren't deceiving, after all.

"The guy is going out of his way not to be caught, that's for sure."

"Tell me about it."

She checks her phone only to notice they've been still for ten minutes already, when an employee finally makes his way through the aisle. Killian quickly catches him by the sleeve with a polite smile.

"Excusez-moi, que se passe-t-il?" he asks in a perfect French. Show-off.

The other man answers, and Emma immediately regrets taking Spanish instead of French in high school for she doesn't understand a single word uttered. Thanks god for bilingual Sexy Irish, who turns to her once they're done talking, a small frown on his brows. Uh-oh.

"There's a problem with an old lady. Something about an oxygen mask and not enough air tanks for the whole trip. They're waiting for the firemen to bring some more but since we're in the middle of nowhere… Could be minutes, could be hours."

Her eyes widen before she groans, letting her head fall on the small table in front of her, bumping it several times. The idiot only laughs at her antics.

"Hey, I've got the five first episodes of Black Sails on my computer, feel like watching it?"

"What's that?" she asks, forehead still against the cold table – strangely soothing.

The grin he offers her is simply wicked. "Show about pirates. The main lady looks a bit like you."

She sighs once more before shrugging. If they're stuck here for hours, she might as well keep occupied, and that Killian dude is more entertaining that her book ever will be. So she just shoves her stuffs in her handbag before switching places to sit next to him. He doesn't waste time before starting the first episode.

It is gruesome and bloody and all kinds of awesome – and, yes, that Eleanor Guthries kicks ass, there is no denying it – but the funnier part is their comments, laughing and snarking at the screen at all the right moments. Surprisingly, she has fun with this almost stranger, as they share the same weird sense of humour and love for violent shows. They even snicker like teenagers when one of the mothers ask them, on a wrathful tone, if they could tune it down because there are children here and the thing they're watching is highly inappropriate. Killian shoots her the V sign when she walks back to her own seat, and Emma has to bite on her hand not to laugh out loud.

(She can't remember the last time she laughed that much, that carefree, can't remember ever feeling so at ease with a perfect stranger. It is as nice as it is disconcerting, for Emma isn't used to it. So she glances at him from the corner of her eyes when he's not looking, wondering what is so special about him, why she feels so drawn to him for a reason she can't understand.)

(He glances at her when she's not looking, tiny smile on his lips.)

They're about to start the third episode when Killian glances at the window, before focusing longer on what is happening outside. "Finally," he says and, since they obviously left their maturity behind the moment they decided to chat, he leans against the window and her against his side to catch a glance at the mess outside. The blue and red light of the fire truck, people coming and going in the night. It's done in less than five minutes before the truck drives away – another ten minutes and the train is moving again, someone apologizing for the delay in the speakers.

"Well…" Killian says, and she doesn't miss the dejection tone or the pity party on his face. She grins and hits 'enter' for the episode to start. He grins back.

(There's yet another hour before they make it to the station, and she falls asleep on his shoulder at some point only to have him waking her up when they're finally in Lyon. She rubs her eyes, not caring if she ends looking like a panda, smiling sadly at him. But he missed his connection to Marseille and the next train is in the morning so, really, all she can do at this point is drag him to her hotel room.)

(He leaves at the crack of dawn with one last kiss as he gives her his business card, cell phone number scribbled on the back. "Call me," he says, even if he knows as well as she does that nothing could ever happen between them.)

(Back in New York, she calls anyway. "I've always wanted to visiting Ireland." She can practically hear his grin at the other end of the line.)