December 2011
"Killian, what are you wearing?" Emma came into her old room, their room, at Ingrid's and Ruth's and closed the door.
Killian looked over at his girlfriend - girlfriend!- and grinned. "Do you not like it, love?"
Emma looked at her boyfriend's jumper. It was blue, the exact blue of his eyes, so she could appreciate that. But it was so...big. And fluffy. It had a cowl that covered his neck (which she would never ogle, absolutely not). She sighed into her coffee mug.
"A sigh, Swan? What does that mean?" That damnable eyebrow rose.
"You look very...nautical, I guess. But not in the hot, vaguely pirate-y way I'm used to. I didn't know you were capable of not wearing an outfit with leather, actually."
"Well, princess-" Killian tsked at Emma's eye roll upon hearing the nickname. "-it's simply good form to wear something given to you by your lovely girlfriend's mother when you are visiting said kind-hearted woman?"
Emma nearly choked on the coffee she'd just taken a sip of. "My MOTHER? Ingrid? The same woman who tried giving us 'the talk' earlier?"
Killian laughed, "Yes, love. Uncomfortable conversations about our sex life notwithstanding, she is quite fond of me, it seems."
"Oh?"
"Indeed. So fond that she sent me this charming sweater last year."
"Last year?! But we weren't even together!"
"We had started spending time together, though, and I believe she might have thought it was, er, more than you were telling her."
"Why would she think that?!"
"Love, calm down and sit with me." Killian patted the bed with his good hand. "She probably picked up on the fact that you were no longer quite as adverse to my presence, as evidenced by numerous photographs placing us at the same events. Besides, it's not like you'd ever keep a secret about your relationships from your loved ones…"
Emma lightly punched his arm and laughed a little. "I think David will forgive us someday. Maybe not you, though." She took his hand and leaned onto Killian's shoulder.
Killian groaned. "He's only texted me twice since then. And one of those times was to warn me that he'd kill me if I hurt you," he pouted.
"He's just happy I'm letting him do the brotherly thing... Mmm, the sweater is starting to grow on me. So soft." Emma slowly ran her hand up and down his arm.
Killian made a sound low in his throat. "Love, what are you doing?"
Continuing her teasing touch, she smirked, "Honestly, knowing Ingrid, you're lucky the sweater doesn't have sparkles or snowflakes."
He snorted. "Lucky indeed."
"Speaking of lucky, I do recall telling you that I normally find you hot. I'm surprised you passed up the chance for innuendo."
"Oh, so you don't with the jumper? Shall I take it off then?"
Emma moved quickly, straddling him. "I just don't want to do some of those activities Ingrid mentioned while you're wearing the sweater she made made for you." She started nuzzling his neck, pressing hot kisses down to where skin and sweater met.
"Emma...are you sure about this? In your childhood bed? It's our first Christmas together, I don't want to-"
"It'll be fine, the bed doesn't squeak. Now hush." Killian obeyed with alacrity. He quickly tossed his hand-knit sweater to the ground and went to work on removing Emma's top.
In short order, clothing was discarded. While Killian and Emma found that the bed did squeak, neither Ingrid nor Ruth said anything.
Emma supposed she rather liked the sweater after all.