The bar was crowded and loud. And the air was dreadfully thick. It was the last place he wanted to be, but far better than the alternative. Killian shuffled through the crowd, the obnoxious beat playing through the speakers and boisterous chatter doing nothing to numb his thoughts. Every noise was muffled and faded out by the conversation that echoed in his mind like a freight train sounding through the night. Reminding him of the last time he saw her before she walked out and slammed the door, disappearing from his life forever.

Killian plopped down onto a stool, slumping over the bar counter as he waited for the bartender. He just needed something to drown the pain. Something strong.

The argument started with something small, quickly spiraling out of control like gasoline to a fire. He was gone too much, he wasn't adventurous enough. He didn't love her anymore. According to Milah. Her tone was laced with anger, eyes devoid of any kind of love… at least any kind of love for him.

What it all boiled down to was that she already knew it was over before it was actually over.

All of the obscenities and excuses she threw at him that night were just a mask. Covering up her betrayal. Everything he thought that he knew was a lie. She was a lie. Her empty promises and scheming attempts of showing him how much she loved him and telling him she was divorcing her husband. It was all just a bloody fantastic charade.

"A rum, please," he drawled out when the bartender approached. Killian watched him fetch a glass and pour the golden brown liquid from the bottle before sliding it over.

Killian clenched his jaw as he grabbed the glass, the bitter memories of the ungrateful bitch embedded in his brain. He threw back the rum, the wretched sting of alcohol sliding down Killian's throat as he gulped it down, thinking about how his whole world had turned upside down in a blink of an eye.

He had never seen it coming. He knew there were problems brewing between them after he lost his hand. After his discharge from the hospital. But he thought he had been imagining it all. He refused to accept that she was embarrassed of him for being injured and having to leave the Navy. He refused to believe that she went back to her husband.

He gave up everything for her.

The relationship had caused tension between Killian and his older brother, and eventually the control Milah had over him pushed Liam away. Killian lost the close bond with him because of her. Liam didn't approve of the relationship from the beginning. He didn't think she was good enough for his brother.

Milah was married, not even separated with her husband at the time and she had tattoos all over her body. Killian fought with his brother many times about her and they eventually stopped talking to each other all together. All of the days they spent working side by side and serving in the British Navy together, turned into bitter memories. And even though Killian crawled back to Liam on his hands and knees, figuratively speaking, begging for forgiveness and even though Killian was now staying at his flat, he was in much too dark a place to hope that things would go back to the way they were before.

He downed another glass of rum. Then another. And a few more. Slowly drowning out the mixture of rage, anguish, and sadness inside of him until he had the courage to stand on his own two feet. Taking a deep breath, he dragged himself out of the stool. Between the jet lag from the treacherously long flight from England and the buzz that took over him, the sting in his heart was still fresh, but somewhat bearable. Killian maneuvered his way through the bar and stepped outside, the chill of the air waking his senses ever so briefly. He took a cab to his brother's place, his words slurred as he attempted to give the driver the address. Killian was surprised he even remembered what it was.

Emma's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter as she hastily threw her dirty clothes in the basket with a groan. She hated doing laundry on Friday night, but it was the only time when all of the machines weren't being occupied. And now she was reduced to a pair of grey shorts and a yellow tank top as she retrieved a bottle of laundry detergent from the closet and threw it on the pile. It was rather light but she had at least two more loads left before she had to buy more. Her phone was ringing incessantly against the hard surface but she chose to ignore the call. It was most likely her ex-boyfriend, Neal, trying to get back with her. She'll check her phone later.

She grabbed her keys from the counter, and took each of the handles of the basket, making her way across the beige carpet to the front door. She tucked the basket in one arm as she turned the knob with her free hand, locking the door behind her. She couldn't wait to get this over with as she trudged down the hall with determined steps. She walked down the three flights of stairs and unlocked the door to the laundry room.

Entering the empty room, she dropped the basket on the cement floor in front of the washer, relieved that there were a few unoccupied machines. Lifting the lid, she started emptying the clothes into the washer, a mindless task that she always dreaded. While doing so, she noticed that her roommates clothes were mixed in with Emma's. Elsa was one for accidentally throwing hers in with Emma's when she had too many for one load. Emma rolled her eyes and tossed them in the washer.

She loved her roommate dearly, but ever since Elsa started seeing the neighbor across the hall, she had been a little distracted. She mostly stayed at her boyfriend's place, and Emma didn't know why Elsa didn't just move in with him. Not that Emma wanted her to. They had become close friends ever since she posted the ad for a roommate two years ago. Emma would be sad to see her move out, even if only across the hall.

Once all of the clothes were transferred, she grabbed the laundry detergent and tipped it over the opening of the machine, pouring in the contents.

Emma's eyes widened with disbelief when she realized there was hardly a thin stream of the blue liquid left. Elsa must have used the last of it and didn't bother to replace it before she left for the weekend. Emma started shaking the bottle violently, trying to get every last drop, but it wasn't nearly enough. Letting out a loud huff, she started unloading the washer, but then stopped. She had another idea. Emma slammed the lid shut and grabbed the basket and her keys, exiting the room. She went upstairs and unlocked her door to deposit the basket in her apartment. Once she set it on the floor, she went back out, shutting the door behind her and making the small trek across the hall.

She had a key to her neighbor's apartment and he was out of town with Elsa, staying at her sister's place for the weekend. Surely, he would have some laundry detergent. She unlocked the door and went into the apartment, quickly finding some liquid detergent in the closet and snatching it up. She locked the apartment back up and headed for the stairs, passing the elevator on her way as it opened.

Killian somehow made it to the third floor, although he had no recollection of how he got from the bar to his brother's apartment. All he knew was that the door of the elevator was in front of him as it ascended, and he was positive that he would not have survived the stairs. He was now feeling the effects of the rum, his mind unfocused, his eyes lazy and his vision disoriented. He felt dizzy from just watching the elevator doors open.

Now, he just had to find which apartment was Liam's.

Killian had rarely visited his brother since he moved to New York to begin teaching, and Killian's stay was very brief before he dropped off his luggage and left for the bar. Liam had already went with his girlfriend for the weekend when Killian's plane arrived in New York. Liam didn't even bother to meet him at the airport. He left a key under the doormat. That's how estranged they had become. Killian was shocked when his brother even agreed to let him stay while he attempted to pick up the pieces from his breakup. He supposed it was because he had told Liam he was no longer with Milah and he wanted to turn his life around.

Stepping out of the elevator, a flash of golden hair passed him. He barely got a glimpse of her face before she was heading towards the stairway, but her backside was quite the view. Killian had to blink to make sure he was not hallucinating. Either he was really smashed or she had a really hot ass, perhaps both. Sexy, toned legs quickly disappeared as she fled down the stairs, not even noticing his presence. Killian had to remind himself what he was doing as he tried to shake the image out of his mind.

Oh yes, finding his brother's apartment.

He snapped out of his gaze and turned around, trudging down the hall., trying to remember which apartment number it was.

Liam's address was in his phone, but Killian was really in no condition to try and search through his cell to successfully pull up the apartment number. He saw one door read 8C, and was certain that was his brother's, although it could also have been 6C, but it was hard to tell when the number and letter were drifting through his blurry vision like they were.

Wow, he was really trashed. He just needed to sleep it off.

He stepped up to it and looked down to fish out his keys, seeing there was a doormat with a picture of what he made out to be a sailboat. Yes, this was definitely the one. Now, if only he could unlock the door.

He struggled with the keys, attempting to find the correct one in his drunken state (he only had two keys). Killian shifted a bit, almost stumbling over, but with slow success at trying to keep his good hand from shifting, he managed to slide the apartment key in the hole. Before he could even turn the key, the door opened. He must have forgotten to lock it when he left for the bar. Oh well, he was really too drunk to give a fuck.

Stumbling into the apartment with movements that were far from graceful, he shoved his keys in his pocket and made his way to the bedroom, running into a laundry basket and some furniture and mumbling a string of curses along the way. When he reached the first door he could find, he shut it behind him and chucked of his shoes, wondering why the bedroom had tiled floor.

He undressed himself with great struggle, barely able to unbutton his shirt, lazily tossing it to the floor. Hooking his thumbs underneath the hem of his pants and boxers, he decided to screw it all; he hated sleeping with his clothes on, so he shoved the offending material down with force and kicked them off until he was bare naked, besides his black socks and the chain around his neck with Naval charms. He reached for what he thought was the bed, quickly realizing that it was the bathtub when there wasn't a mattress or blankets, but solid walls and a great big hole instead. He got in anyway, deciding this was probably better in case he had to vomit. And at this point, he was too far gone to care.

He settled in the tub, feeling the coolness against his back as he leaned his head on the edge and stared at the dark ceiling. With the loneliness of the apartment, he could feel the pain rising to the surface again. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, expelling a long, weary sigh that was nowhere close to expressing how much sorrow he felt. After enduring three bloody years of Milah's nonstop complaints about her husband every chance she got, how could she to do this to him? How could she just betray him and leave after everything?

Snapping his eyelids shut, he tried to summon other thoughts. Anything to help dull the misery he felt. Anything that would temporarily relieve the unbelievable sadness that overwhelmed him. So he thought of the last image he could recall; blonde hair, milky skin and long legs. Killian forced himself to stay focused on her, not that it was very difficult. And it was working. His cock started stirring to life and he couldn't resist the urge to touch himself, to curl his hand around his hard cock at the image invading his thoughts.

He had went to the bar looking for someone to give him a quick fuck, but he found himself nowhere in the mood to be sociable or charming. Instead he would just take matters into his own hand. He didn't need a woman anyways. He had one good hand and that was all he needed. Women just teased him, making him fall head over heals and then when he was weak, they thrived on the opportunity to reach into chest and rip out his bloody heart. Technically it was only one woman, but still, he was far better off on his own.

Slowly falling down the rabbit hole, he quckly pictured the blonde again and started moving his hand up and down his length, stroking himself.

"Bloody hell," he breathed.

After a couple of rather dreary days, it felt good to just feel himself and give himself pleasure underneath his own hand, even for just a brief moment.

He bit his bottom lip at the thought of her ass and the exposed skin below, her luscious creamy thighs that he wouldn't mind taking a bite out of. He didn't get a chance to see her face but he really didn't need to. She was carrying a bottle of liquid detergent, indicating that she had been heading to the laundry room, so he pictured himself stalking after her and entering the room to show her what he knew she never had before; a good, hard, satisfying fuck.

Already nearing his peak, he started thrusting into his grasp, greedily searching for sweet bliss as he pondered what it would be like ramming himself into that gorgeous ass from behind as she braced herself against the washing machine. Her hair was in a long braid so he imagined how bloody fantastic it would be to grab and pull on it while he pounded into her over and over, taking his pleasure. A low grunt tickled his throat as he pumped himself fiercely at the thought of yanking on that mane of golden hair, making her scream out in pleasure.

Emma came back up the stairs after she had started the washer and went into her neighbor's apartment to replace the detergent. She knew he wouldn't mind that she was using it. Even before he and Elsa started dating, she often went across the hall to borrow from him when she was out of something, whether it be coffee or pancake mix or laundry detergent, her neighbor was always happy to help out.

Although, the first time they met, he had just moved in from England and she came over knocking on his door asking for a cucumber. He looked at her as though she were nuts, but Emma legit needed a cucumber for her roommate's puffy eyes when she had an allergic reaction to some medication she had taken. It turned out, he really did have cucumbers in his refrigerator. In fact there was never a time when the British man did not have something one of the girls needed. Of course they've never came by asking for tampons but, hell, he probably had a stash of those too from an ex-girlfriend or just because he was a very thoughtful guy who was surrounded by female occupants in the other units.

Emma came back to her apartment and started to insert the key in the lock when she remembered she never locked it after she dropped off the clothes basket. But she was only gone for maybe ten minutes. What were the chances someone broke in during that amount of time? She opened the door and set her keys on the end table, heading for her bedroom. Emma was all sweaty from going up and down the stairs several times, and the apartment was rather warm.

She turned down the heat and decided to take a shower while she waited for her clothes to wash. Emma peeled off her clothes, stripping down to her lacey pink bra and matching underwear, throwing her dirty clothes in the hamper. She didn't have anymore clean clothes, but she could borrow something of Elsa's. They were similar in size, except Elsa was an inch taller.

Walking down the hall and reaching the bathroom she opened the door, flipping on the light.

"Bloody hell…"

Emma was dead in her tracks when she let out a scream that surely the neighbors would have heard. Quickly trying to cover herself with her hands she averted her gaze from the sight. But it was too late. She had already gotten an eyeful.

"What the hell?!" The words tore from her throat, panic rushing through her blood as she tried to slow her heart rate down and catch her breath. In a haste of ungraceful movements, she grabbed her bathrobe from the door hook and covered herself up with it, trying to comprehend what the hell she was seeing without actually looking directly at him.

There was a man in her bathtub. A naked man. He had squinted his eyes shut to block out the light of the room and was now slowly opening them. He noticed she was there but she could tell he was drunk as he lifted his head and arched a brow, pulling his lips into a smirk, his eyes scanning her body. And while doing so, she was very much aware that he had his hand around his stiff and rather large cock. And he was masterbating! In her tub! Where she washed herself!

A million thoughts were racing through Emma's mind, making her dizzy with fear as she grabbed a pair of tweezers from a drawer underneath the sink. Keeping her eyes fixed on his face to avoid seeing his junk again, she held up the tweezers as though it were a weapon, threatening him with it while she used her other hand to hold up her robe. 'Nice, Emma. What are you going to do, tweezers him to death?!' she asked herself, still struck with shock.

The ridiculously attractive man with a mop of messy black hair, did not seem to be the least bit intimidated as his smile faded. His steel blue eyes were dark and full of wreckage, his lips and jaw lined with well more than a few days' worth of stubble.

"If you wanted to join me, all you had to do was ask." He attempted a flirty tone, but his words were slurred as he spoke in an accent that sent shivers down her spine.

Her mouth was dry as she managed to speak again. "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!"

A befuddled look fell upon his features. "What are you talking about, lass? This is my brother's apartment, and you're the one rudely barging in without knocking, turning on bleedin' lights and not even offering to help a poor bloke out."

She scoffed dramatically. "Sorry to tell you this, but you've stumbled into the wrong apartment." There was irritation and a hint of amusement in her tone, but it was far from playful. And once she was able to tear her gaze away from his dangerously appealing face, she noticed he was still stroking himself. "Could you please stop that?" she asked as she bent over and picked up his shirt, throwing it over his package.

He finally stopped, but she was certain it was because he was too tired to continue. A look of confusion washed over his features as though his brain was finally registering what she was saying. "But this is 8C, love."

"No, it's-" she started, when realization hit her. Now it made sense. This was the brother that Liam had mentioned but never spoke about. "It's not. It's 6C. Liam's apartment is across the hall."

"You know him?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yes, he's my neighbor and also my roommate's boyfriend."

Killian looked at her in bemusement. "Emma's your roommate?"

"No, I'm Emma. My roommate is Elsa. Now, if you would be so kind and remove yourself from my tub, that would be great."

"But, your doormat has a picture of a sailboat?" he mumbled, scratching his head.

God, this guy really was smashed. "No, it's a Swan. My best friend got it for me when I moved in."

"Ah, now that makes sense," he drawled, resting his head back against the tub with a lazy smile.

Emma sighed, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion as she set the pair of tweezers on the counter. She didn't even know Liam's brother was coming into town.

"Lass?"

"Hmmm?" Emma lifted her head and eyed him questionably.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he groaned, his face as pale as a sheet. "Could you help me out of the tub?"

Emma immediately put on her robe, securing the belt around her waist before she came to his side and grabbed him under his arms, trying to pull him up. "You'll have to help me."

He leaned forward and lifted his weight, allowing her to wrap her arms around him and haul him up into a sitting position. Emma summoned all of her strength, registering the close proximity she was to this naked man. Her body was pressed to his as he breathed in her ear, and he reeked of alcohol. He grasped onto her tightly as she lifted him up with all of the body strength she could muster. She realized quickly that he was wearing a prosthetic replacing his left hand as it rested against her back.

With his help, she finally got him in a semi-standing position and she let her eyes fall, waiting for him to step over the edge, when she noticed that his shirt had slid down to the bottom of the tub and he was now exposed again, but the only thing that mattered at this point was helping this guy out of her tub so that he didn't vomit all over himself. "Okay, now step over the tub, so we can get you to the toilet. Can you do that for me?"

A broad, lazy smile crossed his lips. "Anything for a lovely lass like you." He slowly lifted his leg one by one until his feet were on the tiled floor, but by that point it was too late. Vomit started spewing out of his mouth, running down her clothed back. Emma moved more quickly, getting him to the toilet (luckily it was close) and helping him kneel on the floor.

He started upchucking into the opening as she held onto him by his bicep and rubbed his back. "That's it, let it out," she urged him in a soothing but resentful manner. Liam was sooo going to owe her for this.

Another round hit him and his body clenched as he continued to puke, making unpleasant sounds as he did.

When he finished, he caught his breath, his face still in the toilet, just in case there was still more to come.

Emma took the opportunity to leave his side and grab a blanket. It was one that Mary Margaret had knitted for her but it was the only one she had other than the blankets on her bed. It needed to be washed anyway. She retrieved it from the sofa and entered the bathroom again, draping the blanket over his back before fetching a washcloth from the cupboard and dampening it under the faucet. "All finished?" She asked him, wiping the the remnants of puke from his mouth and chin.

"I think so," he managed in gargled voice.

"Okay. Let's get you to bed. Come on." She set the washcloth aside and wrapped her arm around his back underneath the blanket and lifted his arm, curling it around her shoulder as he started to stand up. She turned her head, looking up at him and urging him to move. He flashed her a wink and a flirty smirk.

"You don't have to ask twice to get me into your bed, love."

The slightest hint of a smile pulled at her lips, her cheeks filling with blush. This guy was hitting on her in his birthday suit, completely plastered, but somehow it was the most adorable thing ever. She would hate to see the responses he got from women he was hitting on while he was sober. "Okay, let's go."

Killian put his leg forward, and at first he started to fall, not being able to hold his weight. His legs started to buckle underneath him, but she spoke encouraging words and eventually they made it to Emma's bedroom. She should have had him sleep in Elsa's bed, he was Liam's brother after all, but she'd rather him puke in her bed rather than her roommate's, because that was the type of person she was. Always putting others before herself, even though she frequently got screwed over in return, but mostly by the ex-boyfriend that she would rather not think about right now. That was an entirely different story.

Emma helped Killian walk carefully and slowly across the floor, vaguely aware that his junk was swinging below, just inches away from her, his leg brushing over the fabric of her robe and rubbing against her leg with every other step.

They finally made it to their destination and Emma pulled apart from him to push the blankets back before sitting him on the edge of the bed, making sure to cover him up with the blanket. "I'll be right back with your clothes and a throw-up bucket," she told him. If he was going to sleep under her blankets, she was certainly not going to be having his naked body and manhood taint her delicate sheets.

The bastard didn't listen though, and instead he laid back and lifted his legs on the bed, sprawling across it in his (gloriously) naked form. Emma averted her eyes, groaning her disapproval. "You don't listen very well, do you?"

Keeping her eyes shielded, she reached over and pulled the blankets over him. She would just clean her bedding very, very thoroughly tomorrow when there was no longer a naked drunk person sleeping in it.

"You sound like my brother," he mumbled, stirring and getting awfully comfy in her bed.

She sighed again and left the room to retrieve his clothes and the bucket she promised him. She set the bucket to next to her bed and folded his clothes, laying them on her upholstered chair across the room before leaving again to get him a glass of water. She returned to him and lifted his head, urging him to drink it, which he did, before she set it on the nightstand.

She eyed his prothstetic as it rested beside him over the blanket.

"Do you want me to…?" she started, pointing towards it.

He gave a soft nod and she reached over and gently removed the brace, setting the prosthetic hand next to the glass of water.

"What's you name, beautiful?" he asked, as though he forgot who she was, flashing her a charming smile. She returned it with a sarcastic smirk.

"It's Emma, remember? Emma Swan."

"Apologies, love."

The pet name tugged at her belly. He really needed to stop calling her that.

"Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I'm Killian," he uttered softly, lazily offering his hand. "The much better and more handsome Jones brother." Emma blushed and shook his hand, rolling her eyes. His innocent smile became a devious one.

"Oh my god!" she shot her hand back, remembering what he was just doing with that same hand only moments ago. "Okay, it's time for you to sleep," she demanded, trying to calm her voice down. "And it's time for me to take a long and cleansing shower."

Killian wiggled his brows in a suggestive manner. "I'd be happy to join you if you need some company," he said slowly, his words slurred.

"Gee thanks for the offer but I think you've spent enough time in my tub for one night," she replied sarcastically. "And wipe that charming smirk off your face, because," she waved her hand between them, "Ain't nothing going to happen between us, got it?"

He seemed to accept her answer and snuggled the pillow underneath his head as his eyes fell shut. "Whatever you say lass."

"Okay. Now, get some rest and I'll make some breakfast in the morning. Sound good?"

He groaned, a look of disgust on his face. "Not really."

"You might feel differently in the morning." Emma started to head towards the door.

"Swan?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, lifting an eyebrow. "Hmmm?"

"Could you make pancakes with blueberries? My mum used to make me pancakes with blueberries."

She sighed. "On one condition…"

"What's that, love?" he mumbled languidly, his eyes still closed.

"I'll make you blueberry pancakes if you refrain from masturbating in my bed."

"As you wish." He was slow on the draw but there was promise in his garbled words.

"Then we have a deal." Did she even have pancake mix or blueberries? Probably not. Definitely not. Maybe Liam did, though. "I will make you blueberry pancakes."

Killian didn't waste any time falling asleep and Emma left the room, doing as she promised. She removed her robe and underwear, tossing them to the floor and stepped into the hot, steamy shower, washing the evening out of her hair.

When she got out, she put on a pair of Elsa's sweatpants and a t-shirt before leaving her unit to transfer the clothes to the dryer.

She came back, depositing the basket on the floor before entering her room to check on Killian. He was sound asleep. Emma shut the door with a soft click and grabbed her phone off of the kitchen counter, seeing that she had two missed calls from Elsa and one from Liam along with a voicemail.

Listening to it, she realized that the reason for the call was to give her a heads up about Killian's stay at his place while he got back on his feet.

Yeah, some heads up.

Emma went to the sofa, setting the phone on the coffee table as she plopped down on the couch. As she turned on the television, she realized how much more boring her night had gotten compared to earlier. It was certainly an interesting turn of events.

How did she go from engaging in a mundane task such as doing laundry to walking into a drunk, naked stranger in her tub masterbating? She tried to block out the images from her mind, but there was really no use. She might as well just accept the fact right now that they would be burned into her brain forever.

Emma flipped through the channels while trying to evade the thoughts of the naked man in her bed and realizing that she had to put up with him living across the hall.

She was so going to kill Liam. Or Killian. Or both.