Captainswan One-Shots

This Is How It Begins

 A/N: AU Prompt: I met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at nearly midnight, and when I asked you what you were doing, you slurred something about dogs being great then threw up on my feet. Then fifteen minutes later you're passed out on my couch so that's why you're here right now but what the heck is your name and why did you decide to come pet a dog in a strangers backyard in the middle of the night.

An alternate first meeting for Emma and Killian. 

More notes at the end. 

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"Just can't catch a bloody break can I?" Killian Jones mumbled drunkenly to himself as he staggered out of the bar named after rabbits or something. His head was pounding and he could barely stand up, but he made his way down the sidewalk, still mumbling. His wife of four years, Milah, had gone and left him yesterday for some fool with a lame leg calling himself Mr. Gold. She'd run off in a rage after ranting to him about how he couldn't keep a job, always drank, and couldn't stop eyeing other women. Truth was, women couldn't keep their eyes off of him. They kept calling him "devilishly handsome" and such. He didn't see the problem with entertaining the notion, but Milah couldn't see past his flirty bluster to see that his heart belonged to her.

And the drinking. Now, she wasn't particularly wrong about that, but he wasn't a bloody alcoholic. He just happened to like rum and always had a flask on him and would take a swig from time to time. But at the current moment, he'd drunk more than a few sips of rum. His heart had just been broken and he'd gone to the Rabbit Hole Tavern for a drink and perhaps a pretty lady to keep his mind off Milah (although that was a lost cause). As he staggered down a side street with two black eyes and a spinning conscious, he vaguely thought that maybe he shouldn't have gone after the tall, leggy brunette with red streaks in her long hair who apparently was together with a man the size of an elf (he insisted he was a dwarf and that it was a genetic trait, whatever the bloody heck that meant).

His stomach rolled and Killian groaned, leaning against a fence as he fought to hold his liquor. Usually he didn't get completely wasted like this, but could anyone blame him? The love of his life had just left him, and he'd gotten kicked out of the bar for getting into a bar fight that he hadn't wanted to start. The girl - Ruby – had been practically inviting him over! But look where that had gotten him. So now he leaned on the rickety fence and clutched at his head - he'd pay with a hangover headache tomorrow - and tried to collect his thoughts and his emotions. The bottle of rum he'd consumed had made his emotions flood to the surface, and now he felt like simultaneously screaming in rage and breaking down and sobbing, both of which were very unlike him.

Then he heard the dog barking on the other side of the fence he was leaning on and his heart just about jumped out of his chest. A dog. A dog could be his comfort. They didn't lie, scream at him, or cheat. So in his foggy, extremely drunken state of mind, Killian made the decision to go pet the dog. He found the gate through the black spots dancing in his vision and let himself into its yard, not even registering that he was trespassing.

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It was sometime around ten thirty when Emma finally decided to call it quits for the night. She'd been working all day on a case and still hadn't found any substantial leads. So she shut her laptop down and decided to go to bed. It had been an exhausting day, driving all through town following this guy on a lead that lead nowhere. Walsh was the guy's name and she'd been following on account of him trying to propose to her then frame her for stealing a car (which he obviously stole, it had his fingerprints all over it), and some jewelry (a bit harder to disprove, but she was still working the case). This was the reason she didn't date. Men were untrustworthy liars, and almost always broke her heart. She'd built a wall around it over the years, but had still dated on and off, having one-night stands then bolting. It was how she ran things in her little, lonely world. She hadn't even kept her son, having been ignorant and stupid enough to believe that a man would take care of her and a child after he'd gotten her pregnant at eighteen. That was why she had trust issues.