entitled; caught in the crossfire (of my own thoughts)
summary; There was an amused glint in his eyes when he looked at her, "Are you jealous, Miss Swan?" Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes, hoping her cheeks weren't too pink, "You're out of your mind."
rating; t
disclaimer; i want to own colin o'donoghue. but I don't. the tinkerbell character is a claire holt face claim, but I don't technically own her either. it's just popular (and extremely wonderful) fan casting.
notes; i've never written emma. or anything OUAT, because i've been terrified i might not be able to write any of the characters well, but here goes nothing. please do let me know what you think.

caught in the crossfire (of my own thoughts)


that feeling that doesn't go away just did
and I walked a thousand miles to prove it
and I'm caught in the crossfire of my own thoughts
the color of my blood is all I see on the rocks
as you sail from me

- my blood ; ellie goulding

Emma was not stupid; she could see the jealousy radiating off of the blonde girl from miles away - or, at least she would; the fact that they were on a ship didn't allow them the convenience of getting that far away from each other.

Not that she would want to get so far away from the girl. Really. She had nothing against the small blonde pixie. Nothing at all.

The girl took a step closer to Killian, reaching up as if to cup his face in her hands and Emma's hands curled into fists, clenching so tight she was positive she'd have half moons imprinted on her skin if she didn't break it first.

So maybe there was a heavy rock sitting in her stomach as she watched him interact with the girl he spent the past 28 or so years with. Maybe she wasn't as secure about someone she'd grown so close to because the first person she truly fell in love with left her when she got pregnant, and the second person was killed by Mary Marg- her mother's evil step-mother - it was needless to say that Emma didn't have all that much faith when it came to matters of the heart.

The uncomfortable sensation in her stomach lifted the slightest bit, however, when she saw him smack her hands away, his voice growing the slightest bit louder, but still not loud enough for her to overhear their banter and she found herself messing with a loose thread of the ridiculous dress Mary Margaret had forced her to wear; it was a beautiful one, with sequins and silks but it wasn't her. Especially not her on a friggin' pirate's ship.

She didn't even know why she let herself be talked into this ridiculous crap; sure she was the daughter of the king and queen, and she was in a sort of confusing relationship with the captain of the ship, but when on earth did that make it a fucking rule that she had to be pulled into all the 'let's make peace!' political bullshit? Especially when she was still getting used to all the fairy tale characters and other worlds mumbo-jumbo?

Emma glanced over at Killian, still arguing with Tinkerbell - a small, somewhat hysterical laugh left her lips, because friggin' Tinkerbell - before she glared down at her stupid gown and started in the direction of the Captain's quarters, because said Captain said it was blasphemous for the Captain's woman to spend her night anywhere else. Emma said it was barbaric and if it were any other guy, she would have given him a good fist to the face, but it was Killian. And it wasn't like she could complain about sleeping next to him for the night.

But she hated that she'd have to face him with all these thoughts running through her head. All the insecurities and frustrations; he'd read her like an open book.

She would have stormed off to Mary Margaret's room, but she couldn't risk her mother finding her and wanting to talk the situation out.

So she marched on down to the Captain's quarters and locked herself inside, not hesitating a moment to start shedding all the jewelry and peeling the dress off of her body, folding it gently and setting it down on a rickety old wooden chair in the far corner. Once she was sure the chair wasn't going to fall to pieces under the weight of her bulky gown, Emma moved to his drawers and start sifting through his things until she found one of his large extra poofy shirts.

A soft laugh bubbled over as she looked at the black shirt; it was one of the ones he wore whenever he was planning on going through the day without his coat and Emma always teased him for. Shaking her head and sighing softly, she threw it over her head and let it fall smoothly down to her thighs, the end of the sleeves falling just past her fingertips as she made herself comfortable on his bed - their bed, temporarily, anyway. She would have looked for some shorts, or sweats or underwear even, but she was sure no matter how much she'd nagged him about his wardrobe, he hadn't made any changes to it. So instead she reached for the bag she'd brought along and pulled out some gray shorts she'd actually remembered to stuff in and slipped them on, tossing her bag to the floor.

She was set on making herself comfortable and falling asleep to avoid any awkward conversations, but just as she leaned back on the bed, stretching like a cat, the door was thrown open and Emma jerked up into a sitting position, eyes wide, "What!? Where's the fire?"

Their gazes locked and Emma watched him visibly relax, "I didn't find you where I left you."

Emma's lips pursed, trying not to shiver as she watched him give he a quick once over, a slow smirk making its way onto his lips at the sight of his shirt on her person.

"I got bored. And cold." She told him, shrugging nonchalantly, "I thought I'd leave you and the fairy-"


"-to argue in peace." she finished, as if he hadn't interrupted her at all.

There was an amused glint in his eyes when he looked at her, "Are you jealous, Miss Swan?"

Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes, hoping her cheeks weren't too pink, "You're out of your mind."

"Ah, no, that would your tea-drinking, hat-making, portal-jumping friend." he answered, sliding his coat off and hanging it on the coat rack, not once pulling his gaze from her.

She really wished he would, though; he was giving her that smoldering gaze. The one that made her insides squirm, that made her wanted to jump his friggin' bones more times than not.

"Jefferson." Emma told him, clearing her throat and managing to look elsewhere and clear her head while she had the chance; it seemed like she was always intoxicated by his presence, no matter how much she tried to get used to it.

"Right. Jefferson." The name sounded strange coming from his lips, but she made no comment and reminded herself that she was supposed to be acting cool. Calm. Collected.

Unfortunately, she was being none of the above.

Sighing, she gave up and finally let herself look back at him, only to regret it the minute she did; he'd gotten rid of his vest, the belt with his sword and was just about done unbuttoning his shirt when she looked back at him.

"Are you alright there, darling?" he asked as he tossed his shirt onto the rack over his coat.

"I.." Emma blinked, somehow managing to look down at her lap instead of at him and snapping herself out of her reverie, "I'm fine. Now, I'm going to sleep."

Emma pushed herself off the bed, turning to move the pillows so she could undo the covers, but just as she was going to lean over, she felt him behind her. His arms snaked around her waist, drawing her in closer so her back was pressed right up against his bare chest.

She inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the cold of the metal of the hook on his right hand as it seeped right through the thin shirt.

"You're upset with me." he breathed into her ear, sending shivers running up her spine.

It wasn't a question, but it wasn't exactly true; she was more upset with herself than with him.

"I'm not." she breathed, eyes falling shut as she tried to keep from sinking into his hold. "I want to sleep."

"Perhaps you aren't upset with me, but you're still upset and I'm not letting you go until you tell me what it is that has bothered you." he told her, running his hand back and forth along her stomach at an agonizingly slow pace.

Emma bit her lip, contemplating whether she'd be able to outsmart him this time, only she realized she was far too tired to play this game of brick walls and sighed, "She loves you."

He tensed behind her, and Emma knew she was right. Feeling her heart sink, she squirmed in his hold, trying to free herself, but he tightened his hold on her the second she tried. "And that matters, why?"

Emma scoffed, "You can't tell me there's nothing there, Hook."

She felt him wince and she took the chance to escape, pulling away and turning to face him; she was one of the few people who actually still called him by his actual name, so she knew that hearing her use that little moniker must have killed him a little inside. Still, she swallowed her apology and stood tall - or as tall as she could, wearing his ridiculous shirt, "You found her in Neverland-" the hysterical laugh was back, "-spent the past 28 years with her and she loves you so, so much. How can I possibly compare? And this isn't including the woman you stole from Rumplestiltskin, and the mermaid you told me about. The one you really loved."

She was going to say more, but the next thing she knew, he had her backed into the wall, eyes narrowed a hand rested on one side of her head while the hook rested on the other, "Are you really comparing yourself to them? I've never loved Tinkerbell. Ever. Her obsession with me was always a nuisance, something that idiot boy Peter had thrown upon me during my time spent in Neverland." he leaned forward and Emma's breath hitched, "And Ariel. I loved her. Once. But she and I weren't meant to be. Her heart belonged to the sea, where I couldn't - wouldn't - follow. And that was years ago. Ask me now. Here. Now. Tomorrow. Seven moons, thirty moons from tonight. Ask me who I want, and love and I will answer you honestly."

By now, her heart was beating rapidly in her chest and Emma felt like the foolish, insecure high school girl who couldn't believe the hot football player was hitting on her. And it was that thought that made her snap out of her funk.

She wasn't a kid, a little girl. She always knew what she wanted, and if she didn't, she would figure it out and take it.

"Ask me." He repeated, his voice an octave lower than it had previously been and Emma felt that familiar pool of heat start at her lower abdomen.

"Who do you want?" she breathed, azure eyes locked with his sea-colored ones just before he closed the space between them and captured her lips in a violent kiss, his hand slipping behind her neck to pull her in closer.

Emma didn't hesitate; she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in as she moved her lips against his, a soft moan leaving her lips as he pressed her even harder into the wall, his body molded perfectly against hers. It didn't last long, though, because he was quickly pulling back, resting his forehead against hers and running his fingers through her loose blonde curls.

"Don't you doubt for a second that you are the one I want, Emma Swan." He told her, staring intently at her before leaning in to steal another quick kiss. "I am yours as you are mine."

Emma let out a soft, sweet laugh and leaned up to kiss her Captain once more, "I love you too, Killian Jones."

The spark made its way back into his eyes, the smile onto his lips and Emma knew she really had nothing to worry about.