A Helping Hand Ch. 01

"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 toilet 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 sooooo going to owe her for this.

Another round hit him, and his body clenched as he continued to puke, making unpleasant noises 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 knitted 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 pleasuring himself? 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 thoughts of the naked man in her bed. Then, it occurred to her that she had to put up with him living across the hall.

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