(Yep, I'm jumping on the priest!Killian train, but not the way you might think.)

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i. why feels something so right doing the wrong thing?

"Another word for red? Seven letters, last one's a "t"?"

She doesn't even think about it, just turns her head towards the young man and opens her mouth.

"Scarlet," she says and his head snaps up.

He wears a wide smile on his handsome face and Emma can't help but blush when her green eyes meet his incredibly blue ones (she thinks that maybe her heart skips a beat too but she ignores this as well as she can, he's a priest in training for God's sake- or not for God's but for heavens and UGH-).

"Nolan, you're a genius!" he exclaims and Emma lets out a light hearted laugh, brushing past him and swatting him softly with her cleaning rag.

"I know I'm awesome, you don't have to tell me, preacher boy," she grins while she moves to the next desk to wipe it clean off the spilled cocoa Roland has left behind when the major's boyfriend and his son visited the diner about half an hour ago.

Emma doesn't have to look back at him to know that his gaze is still fixed on her, she can practically feel his eyes on her and she can't help the shiver that runs down her spine nor the goose bumps that form on her skin.

She continues to wipe the table for another few moments before the door to the kitchen swings open and Mrs. Lucas steps into the room, staring at the both of them for a moment before she clears her throat.

"We're closed," the old woman states, an amused smile on her lips.

"I'll be on my merry way the second I finish this bloo-sorry, crossword puzzle," the priest in training says and Emma turns around and looks over his shoulder, leaning a little bit closer than she needs to, breathing him in briefly - and damn him, he smells good too.

"Word's vessel," she whispers and he actually jumps before he turns his head towards her.

Only when his breath dances over her lips she realizes how much she has leaned forward and for the briefest of moments she just stares into his eyes, unable to look away from him - that is until Granny clears her throat and Emma jerks away as if he's fire and she just got burned.

"You're gonna close the diner as soon as the priest-to-be is done with his puzzle, Miss Nolan," the patron tells them and if Emma didn't know better she would have thought that Mrs. Lucas actually winked at her.

"Yes, ma'am," Emma replies, saluting almost mockingly, before she adjusted her pink skirt and white blouse, picking up the cleaning rag again.

Granny leaves the diner and another few silent minutes pass by in which neither of them say a word. It's not uncomfortable though, it's rather pleasant and the only noises to be heard are Emma cleaning the tables and the scratching of his pen the paper.

She finishes the last table and looks up and back at Killian, only to find him staring at her. She can feel her heart stutter in her chest and there are butterflies in her belly and a blush on her cheeks as she slowly moves towards his table.

His eyes never leave hers as she moves towards him and only when she stops in front of the booth he sits in he looks down at his crossword puzzle again.

"Another word for wits. Eight letters," he finally says.

She's probably just imagining things but she thinks he sounds slightly breathless and she lets out a rather shaky breath herself before she unties the knot that keeps her apron in place and places it on the table before she slides into the booth next to him.

"Brains?" she asks with a frown and he laughs at her.

Not in a mean kind of way though, he laughs at her in a way that makes her all giddy and happy but at the same time she feels a little bit stupid because eight letters and she just realized brains only got six and- she's blushing again.

"Seems like your wits let you down this time, Nolan," he chuckles and she shoves him in the side.

"Shut up, Jones, you don't know the solution either."

He shifts his weight and leans a little bit towards her, his proximity causing her heart rate to pick up and she swallows almost subconsciously leaning into him too.

"Actually I do," he whispers conspiratorially and she turns her head, a small smile playing across her lips.

"And what's it, pray tell?" she prompts.

He leans even closer and when she's finally able to look away from his lips and to his eyes she finds him staring down at her mouth but the instance he realizes she has caught him staring he quickly gazes back into her eyes again, a faint blush tainting his cheeks pink.

"Word's gumption," he murmurs and the way he says it, it sounds downright sinful and that should be forbidden because in about three years he's going to be Father Jones, a priest and he definitely shouldn't sound like that.

There's a knot in her stomach - half pleasant, half frustrating - and it only tightens when he looks at her like that, his blue eyes dark, stormy and cloudy and if he would have been any other guy she would be convinced that he's flirting with her but that can't be the case.

Priests don't flirt. -Except, he isn't a priest, yet.

"Then why aren't you writing it down?" she asks, looking up at him through her eyelashes, her heart racing in her chest.

The things he does to her. She never asked to feel that way about him but here she is, all butterflies and sweaty hands and damn her, she really likes him.

"I'm rather enjoying the view," he tells her softly and her heart leaps in her chest, before it start to beat as quickly as a hummingbird's.

There's no denying it this time, he is flirting with her and she doesn't know what to do about it - or rather how to react responsibly because she certainly shouldn't flirt back but there are those damn butterflies again and her racing heart and she can't help it. She tilts her head up, feels some strands of his messy black hair brushing over her forehead and suddenly her throat is dry and the knot in her stomach tightens and there is heat pooling between her legs and god, he looks so incredibly handsome and she really, really likes him so when he angles his head down she meets him halfway.

At first his touch is nothing more than a tentative brush of his lips over hers but then she applies a little bit more pressure and he follows suit, one of his hands moves to her cheek, cupping it, his thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek and she can't help but crave for more as his lips move against hers, her hands curling around his neck, fingers threading through the dark mop of his hair, pulling him closer.

His other hand finds its way to her hip, gripping her tightly - almost too tightly, there probably would be bruises tomorrow, reminding her that this - what was happening right now - was real, that this isn't another one of her dreams - and she pushes one of her legs over his lap, shifting her weight until she's straddling him, his hands moving to her hips, then to her back and he pulls her closer while her hands roam over his chest.

A soft whimper escapes her throat when he sucks her lower lip into his mouth, his tongue tracing its sensitive skin and her hands curl into his shirt as she pulls him closer, closer, always closer.

She's done this with one or two guys before, during high school, but it never felt like this it never felt so right while it was so wrong and her body reacts on its own, her hips grinding into his, another soft, needy noise escaping her throat.

The next thing she knows is that her back is pressed into the soft leather cushion of the booth and that he is hovering above her, his lips pressed to the corner of her mouth, moving along her jaw line to her throat, lips nipping, one of his hand sliding up her leg, to her knee and then down again, only this time there is no fabric covering her leg and his hand brushes over her bare thigh and she moans quietly, arching into him.

Her hands fly to his neck and she pulls his head back to her mouth again, lips crushing into his as she lets his hand inch higher and higher until it reaches the seam of her panties and he pulls away from her, staring at her until she opens her eyes and looks up at him.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he breathes.

This is so wrong, on so many levels. It's ethically wrong, morally wrong but she doesn't care because he is all she wants right now, all she needs. But still…

"We shouldn't be doing this," she corrects and he pulls further away from her.

"We should stop," he says and she nods.

"We should," she agrees.

He moves to fully pull away from her, sitting back up and she follows him, lips still only a few inches away.

"But I don't want to," he murmurs before he surges forward again, lips pressing into hers and she wraps her arms around him almost immediately, unable to stay away.

"Me neither," she breathes into his mouth before she parts her lips, letting his tongue slip inside her mouth.

She lets herself sink back into the cushions, one hand on his neck, the other on his back and she arches into him, her hips rolling against his and it feels so very good and her fingers fly to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling them open a little bit awkwardly but he doesn't mind, too busy to slip his hands beneath her blouse and she actually mewls when his large, cool fingers brush over her stomach, inching higher until they trace the outline of her bra.

He's about to slide his hand past the bra wire and onto her skin but the ringtone of her cell phone interrupts them before they can get any further. He stops kissing her, pulling away from her again as she fumbles for her phone and then takes the call.

"Emma?"

It's her father.

She looks up at Killian, her eyes growing wide when reality finally comes crashing down on her like a tidal wave. It seems to hit him pretty much at the same time because he pulls away, helping her to sit up as he gets out of the booth and tries - and fails - to straighten the wrinkles in his shirt.

She watches him walk towards the bathroom, the knot in her stomach tightening once more when she realizes why he walks so funny - because he hasn't been unaffected, because he wants her too, probably just as much as she wants him.

"Hey dad," she replies, trying to steady her labored breathing.

"Where are you? I thought your shift was over half an hour ago? Your mom and I are getting worried," David Nolan says and Emma grimaces.

"I'll be there in a minute, Killian just stayed a little bit longer but I'll be on my way any minute now."

Her voice doesn't waver. It's calm and she realizes that there is no reason why anyone should be worried about the deputy's daughter and the priest in training staying alone at the diner after closing time - people know they are good friends, they are "kids" (though she is nine-teen and he is twenty-three) and nothing will ever happen between them. At least that's the common belief, she had believed it herself even though she, well, has a crush on him.

Emma would have never thought that those feelings are mutual but apparently they are.

Killian returns from the bathroom, his shirt all buttoned-up and straightened, his cheeks still rosy, lips still a little bit kiss-swollen and she decides she definitely has to check on herself before she leaves the diner and goes back home. So she hastily gets up from her seat too, her cell phone still pressed to her ear.

"Good. When you're not home in a quarter hour I'll be sending Graham after you."

She laughs at that while she passes Killian, looking up at him and meeting his eyes, lingering for a few stuttering heartbeats before she moves past him, knowing that this is probably the last time she sees him that evening.

"Don't worry, dad, I'll be there," she promises.

"See you in fifteen."

She hangs up on David Nolan and faces herself in the mirror. Her hair is tousled, her lips red and kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed and she looks debauched, like someone who would fall in love with a soon-to-be-priest and then simply takes what she wants.

But she isn't like that, she's good and this was a mistake and she regrets it but at the same time she doesn't because being that close to him was everything she ever wanted and more and if she had a crush on Killian Jones before, now she's definitely head over heels in love with him.

When she returns from the bathroom he is still there, waiting for her.

"I thought you would have gone back to the church already," she states and he chuckles at that.

"I don't live in the church, you know, I have a flat," he smirks and she laughs quietly.

"No, you don't. You live in the church and sleep on the altar," she mocks him while they move towards the exit.

"Oh right, I'm the offering, I forgot," he teases her back and relief floods her because she has expected awkwardness and now she gets this, the teasing, the banter, everything is back to normal, as if this whole thing never happened.

"I thought sacrifices were abolished," she frowns mockingly.

He opens the door for her and she steps through, locking it behind the both of them.

"They are, since Abraham was willing to sacrifice Isaac and God said "no" in Genesis 22," Killian smirks and she looks up at him, laughter dancing in her eyes.

"You're such a nerd," she grins, he leans down to her until his breath dances over her lips again and her heart skips another beat - probably something she should get used to around him.

"Just a priest in training," he says with a tilt of his head, his hand coming up to cup her face. "It's like learning to drive, before your exam you know everything."

She leans into his touch, her hand coming up to cover his but instead of lingering she pulls it down, her fingers caressing the back of his hand briefly before letting go.

"Killian, this is wrong," she murmurs.

He bites his lower lip and she swallows, her tongue quickly wetting her lips, remembering the feeling of his lips pressed against hers. Out of the corners of her eyes she sees him reaching out for her but before he can touch her he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"I know," he replies with a sigh and she can't help but think that he wants to add something else but he doesn't.

But even though he doesn't say anything she can guess what he thinks.

Why feels something so right doing the wrong thing?

She doesn't have an answer to that.

And neither does he.

"Good night, Emma," he murmurs and she nods, a small smile on her face.

"Good night, Killian," she replies, letting his name fall from her lips and watching him watch her mouth before he looks briefly into her eyes again and then turns around.

As she watches him go she feels his lips on hers again and when she closes her eyes that night she tastes him on her tongue and she just knows it's not something she will forget anytime soon.

And she really hopes he won't either.