Inspired by a post on Tumblr from onceuponaflameofhope (…i seriously hope there's an 'almost kiss' scene this season) and my muse took it from there.

It was supposed to be five drabbles about the four times they almost kissed and the one time they finally really kissed. But I should know my muse better by now, shouldn't I? I can't write drabbles. 500 words into the first time I realized that it already got out of hand. :-)

Don't ask me where this writing style came from (maybe because I'm sleep-deprived?) and I have no idea why I wrote this one-shot in present tense. I never write in present tense. *stares confused at muse*

I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine! Otherwise these scenarios would all happen on the show!

Act One – The Cabin

She has been on edge for days, snapping at everything and everyone until he just grabs her and pushes her into his cabin. She already opens her mouth to yell at him that she won't jump into bed with him and that he can keep his attachments to himself but he doesn't even look at her as he goes straight to his liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle of rum, pouring a generous amount in one glass before he shoves it into her hand.

Emma watches him carefully, waiting for a sexual innuendo, an inappropriate move from him but he just drops down on the chair, gesturing towards the only other chair, opposite from his, before he pours himself a drink and leans back, stretching out his legs in front of him.

Searching his face for any ulterior motive, Emma keeps standing in the middle of the room, ready to flee but he has actually closed his eyes, his whole body completely relaxed and with a soft sigh she walks towards the chair, slumping into it.

He opens one eye slowly, watching her and as the minutes tick by Emma starts to feel uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze and she almost jumps up from her chair when he suddenly leans forward and almost slams the glass onto the table before his eyes bore once again into hers.


Just this one word. He doesn't say anything else, waiting patiently for her reaction, slight curiosity flashing over his face. For a second she hesitates but the look in his eyes convinces her that he doesn't have any hidden agenda. He offers to listen so that she could get whatever bothers her off her chest and strangely she wants to tell him because she knows he will understand.

And so she talks. About her fear for Henry's life, about her uneasiness when it comes to Regina or Gold, about her parents, about the fear that she might disappoint them, about the fact that she still doesn't know how to act around them most of the times.

And even about Neal. She could see the short flicker of pain crossing his eyes as she starts to talk about the man he knows as Baelfire and she wonders, not for the first time, what history these two share.

He doesn't interrupt her, let her just get it all out of her system and afterwards she feels relieved as if a burden has been lifted from her shoulder. She wouldn't have pegged him as such a good listener. Something inside her stirs, something she doesn't want to bring out in the open, something she doesn't want to examine too closely. No, it's better to keep the feelings she has for the man sitting in front of her buried deep inside.

"Feeling better?" He asks her softly, his lilting voice jerking her out of her reveries.

"Yeah." Emma replies. "Thank you for listening."

"You're welcome, lass."

Sudden silence falls over the room and Emma starts talking again before it can get awkward, asking him if he could tell her one of his pirate stories and his mouth tilts up into a smirk as he leans back into his chair again and tells her about one of his adventure as a pirate.

She wanders around his cabin while he is talking, looking at the several trinkets, letting her finger run over the smooth surface of the cabinet. She feels a little dizzy. Normally she can hold her liquor. But his rum is relatively strong and she can practically feel it coursing through her veins.

She lets out a chuckle when he comes to an especially colorful passage of the story, walking over to him, leaning over his shoulder as she tries to reach the bottle to refill her glass but apparently she had one glass too many already because suddenly she loses her balance, tumbling into his lap.

She expects to just dive head first into the floor on the other side but his arm shoots forward, keeping her from falling, hauling her back into a sitting position and she can't move, can't breathe as she stares into his eyes, his face only inches away from hers.

She leans forward, the alcohol lowering her inhibitions just far enough for her to let the attraction she feels towards him come to the surface and all she can think about are his lips and how they might feel on hers.

"Emma?" Her father's voice slices through the air from outside the cabin and Emma jerks back, jumping up from his lap, her fingers racing shakily over her hair and clothes, checking if everything is in order.


Her eyes lock with his and for a second time seems to stand still as they just stare at each other, the tension simmering in the air between them until Emma averts her gaze to the ground and clears her throat, turning around to the door and shouting with a slightly hoarse voice. "Coming!"

She sets the glass down on the table without looking at him again, walking towards the door slowly but as her hand reaches for the door knob she turns around to him, meeting his gaze.

"Thank you, Hook. For the drink and ..." Her voice trails off as she tries to find a way to thank him for everything else but all she manages to get out are three completely empty words. "... and the rest."

"Any time, lass." He replies softly. "Any time."

Act Two – The Tripwire

She knows she gets too comfortable around him, she knows it doesn't help that she enjoys every minute she can spend alone with him. She can just be herself around him, she doesn't have to mince her words, she doesn't have to over think her actions first.

Sometimes she thinks everything that happened in his cabin was just a dream, something her brain came up with after too much of his rum. But once in a while she catches him staring at her, his gaze telling her that it wasn't a dream. They had almost kissed and even though they never talk about it they both know if David hadn't interrupted the moment they would have probably tumbled into bed with each other.

And now they are just pretending. Pretending that nothing happened.

They are on another of their food expeditions. Somehow they always end up to go alone, just the two of them, earning curious glances from Mary Margaret every time they step off the boat.

But Emma doesn't care. It's been two months. Two months has gone by without them finding Henry and she might not like it but he is the only one who keeps her together. It seems he can always sense when she is close to losing it, appearing at her side with a flask, engaging her in a conversation until he is sure she has herself under control again.

It's comforting and somehow over the past two months he became a friend. Always at her side when she needs him. Being a rock when everything around her seems to crumble down.

He teaches her which plants are edible and which plants she should avoid and she is surprised that he is so patient with her, answering the same questions over and over again to make sure she doesn't end up eating a poisonous fruit.

She is so in thought that she doesn't pay attention where her feet are taking her and suddenly she is yanked back, stumbling into his arms, a memory of the last time she has found herself in his arms like that flashing up in her brain.

Leaning back, she looks at him questioningly, trying to keep her heart rate down, the close proximity making her throat go all dry.

"Tripwire." He says, pointing to the ground and Emma can see the almost invisible wire just a feet above the ground.

Her eyes return to his, her arms are wrapped firmly around him and for a second she hesitates. She doesn't want to let go off him. She wants to stay in his arms, wants to relish the feeling of his body against hers.

But reluctantly she steps back and he turns her around, his body pressing against her back as his arm comes over her shoulder, pointing in the direction of the threat.

"There." He tells her quietly, his breath brushing over her cheek, making her shudder. "Arrows."

She can see them now, hidden under branches, but her senses are occupied with the feelings his body is eliciting in her. The ache she had felt in his cabin is back, settling deep in her stomach and she wraps her arms around herself before she would grab him.

She turns her head involuntarily, her lips skimming over his cheek, his scruff shooting prickling sensations through her whole body. She wants to kiss him, wants to let her fingers trail over his scruff, wants to explore his whole body.

She hears his sharp intake of breath, feels him stiffen against her, his eyes narrowing slightly and for just one moment she hopes she would kiss her but he doesn't.

"Let's go back." He says, avoiding to look directly at her as he adjusts the bag with food over his shoulder. "The others are hungry."

He walks back towards the beach and Emma stands rooted to the spot, staring after him. She wants to shout after him, wants to ask him what she should do about her hunger. What about the hunger she feels when it comes to him? But she keeps her mouth shut, forcing herself to start moving.

Act Three – A Heated Argument

"I'm not tired." Emma snaps, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

"Bloody hell, Swan! Stop being such a stubborn lass!" Killian growls. "You need sleep. Go to bed!"

"You can't force me to do anything."

Emma almost flinches back as he steps closer, invading her personal space, pushing her back against the railing, his eyes blazing with hardly suppressed anger.

"I'm done watching you driving yourself into the ground. You are not helping Henry when you hardly eat anything, not to mention that you've hardly slept anything in days."

"How would you know?"

"This is my ship. I'm the captain. I always know what's going on."

"Stop pushing me around." Emma shouted, pressing a hand against his chest to keep him from coming even closer.

"Oh believe me, love. I'm far from pushing you." Killian drawls, putting his hand and hook beside her body on the railing, caging her in, ignoring her hand on his chest completely as he leans in, his lips ghosting over her skin before he breathes into her ear. "You would know the difference."

She can't keep her body from reacting to his whispered words. Because just like that he had put pictures of something entirely else into her brain. Pictures of him pushing her against a wall, lifting her up, her legs wrapped around his waist when he slams into her.

Gulping hard, she lifts her gaze from his chest and stares up into his eyes. He is too close. Way too close. Being so close to him she can't even say what color his eyes are.

Blue? Green? Grey? Something in between?

Her heart is hammering in her chest, her hand flinches and she feels his hot flesh under her fingers, spreading them out involuntarily, his hair tickling her, making her stomach clench painfully, sudden desire rushing through her, making her dizzy.

His gaze flickers to her lips and back to her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat as she sees the longing in his eyes.

Oh God!

She wants him. She wants him to take her right here and there. Against the railing. She can feel the throbbing between her thighs, her breasts aching for his touch. She knows it's insane to want him so much but she can't help it. She want to feel him. In her. Around her.

She doesn't know how long she can keep this up. She feels as if she might snap any second. But she waits for him to make the first move. But it never comes. She feels his chest rise under her fingers as he takes in a deep breath before he breaks eye contact with her and steps back, walking away from her without looking back.

Act Four – Sword Fight

The swords clashes together, metal screeches as he pushes her back and she raises the sword immediately, ready to continue the fight.

He'd agreed to teach her sword fighting after he had laughed into her face when she told him she knows how to handle a sword. A part of her always knew that he didn't really fight back at Lake Nostos, that he has been only playing with her. He let her win.

Just one more thing to add to her conflicting emotions. As if he wasn't already in her thoughts day and night. Especially at night. When all her fears are raising their ugly heads, when the urge to just go to his cabin and find solace in his arms is almost overwhelming her.

So she fights. Trying to get rid of all the pent-up frustration by sword fighting with him. But even when adrenaline is rushing through her body and she has to concentrate on the blade in her hand, she can't keep herself from acknowledging the graze in which he moves, the sword an extension of his body, the movements fluid, every muscle tense as he drives her back against the cabin and as her body collides with the wood the breath gets knocked out of her and not only due to the force of the impact but also due to the sight right in front of her.

His features are hardened with concentration, his face glistens with sweat as he comes closer, their blades criss-crossing in front of their bodies and this time her eyes flicker to his lips, lingering there for a few seconds too long before she snaps her gaze back to his eyes.

She can smell him, the sweat and the unique scent that is just him. She follows a bead of sweat with her eyes as it runs down his cheek, wondering how his face would look like on the peak of ecstasy, how his skin would taste, how the air would smell afterwards.

Would it be passionate and hot? Would he take her rough? Or would it be gentle and slow? Would he prefer to torture her until she would beg him for more?

She can't decide which scenario she would prefer. All she could think about is having him. No matter how. Longing churning deep in her stomach and she almost kisses him, almost jumps over the line, certain that he would follow her but something is still holding her back.

When they lock eyes once again she forgets for a second to breathe, the hunger, the need in his eyes setting her body on fire and she expects his mouth on hers every moment but like the last time he steps back, releasing her and just walks away, leaving her behind and the frustration bubbles up in her, making her almost want to punch the wall with her fist until the longing would just stop.

Act Five – The Rescue

They finally found him. He was back. Henry was back.

She still has a hard time to believe that her son is really back and that this is not all just a dream. Her eyes searches his and when she meets his gaze her heart clenches painfully in her chest as she remembers his muffled screams of pain as one of the lost boys drove his sword into his body.

She can still see his pale face in front of her, the shaky smile he gave her to reassure her that he was going to be okay. But she had feared for his life as he fell on his knee, clutching his side, his breath coming out in harsh bursts as he rummaged in his bag for an antidote against the poison running through his system.

Regina had healed the wound, closing it up but he still must feel sore and she watches him when he turns around and walks slowly towards his cabin, his hand pressed against his ribs, limping slightly.

She sees David furrowing his brows as he follows the retreating form of the pirate with his gaze before he looks back at his daughter and a second later his shoulders drop, a small smile curving up his lip as he puts a hand on Henry's shoulder as if he wants to tell her that he is safe with them, that she can go and he nods slightly in the direction of Killian's cabin, the silent approval of her father meaning more to her than it probably should.

So she turns around and walks slowly towards his cabin, the anger coming back in full force. She knows it's mostly the still lingering fear of losing him, the fear that she would never see his smile again, never hear his lilting voice again. But he is one stubborn man and she just has enough.

She opens the door to his cabin silently, slipping in without him noticing her. He stands in the middle of the room, tugging at his shirt, hissing out a breath when he rips the fabric, caked with his own blood, away from his body.

Somehow she must have made a sound because he suddenly turns around to her, realizing that he is not alone in his cabin anymore. She wants to say so much but the words doesn't want to come out and he just glares at her with a slightly raised eyebrow, asking her silently what she is doing in his cabin and then suddenly something in her snaps and she rushes forward, her hand connecting with his cheek, the slap echoing through the room and without giving herself time to over think it, she grabs his shirt, yanking him forward, her lips crushing on his, her tongue delving into his mouth as she kisses him hungrily, putting all her conflicting emotions in this one kiss.

And he responds with equal fervor. Pulling her closer into his body, his hand coming up to her face, his fingers closing around her neck, tilting her head back so that he has better access to her mouth, his lips and teeth almost bruising her as he demands everything from her, as he combines all the missed opportunities, all the almost kisses in this one assault of his mouth on hers.

She can't breathe and she doesn't think she needs air as long as he is kissing her like that. But eventually they have to stop, both breathing heavily and Emma fists her hand around his shirt, her lips hovering over his rapidly beating pulse as she whispers. "Don't you dare do that ever again!"

She leans back, looking up at him with a heated gaze. "Do you hear me!"

"Aye, love." He replies softly, his fingers caressing her cheek. "I can hear you."

She snuggles back into his embrace, not caring about the dried blood that covers his body and clothes as she tightens her grip around him.

"I'm still alive." Killian says reassuringly, trailing his hand up and down her spine in a soothing motion.

"Barely." Emma mumbles against his skin.

"But I survived yet another adventure of mine."

She wants to shout at him, wants to yell at him, wants to demand from him to be more careful but she can't get words past the lump in her throat, so she just nods, sudden tears pricking her eyes as she stares up at him.

"Why do you care?" He asks and Emma knows he is too afraid to demand more from her and she is not ready yet to tell him how much he means to her but she can give him something else. It's not a declaration of love but it still comes very close.

"Because I can't lose you." She admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere, Emma."

"Good. Because I won't let you, Killian."

She lifts her arms, her hands cupping his face as she leans up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his.

This kiss is soft and full of promises. Promises of a better future.

Their future.