"Hook!" she calls out, her heels clacking against the boards of the dock as she storms towards him. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, darling," he begins tensely without turning toward her, "but that moniker doesn't exactly apply now."
"Well, if you stop acting like a vengeful pirate, maybe I'll use your actual name," she bites back. She wraps her hand around his wrist, pulling him to look at her. "Talk to me," she says softly, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
"The man spilled that drink on you, Swan. And don't even try to tell me you believed his half-arsed apology. Even I saw right through that and I don't have your super power. It was no accident. So yes, I hit him. The prick deserved it."
"Did you think about the fact that I can handle myself just fine? Because I know you know that." She lowers her voice, "We finally had a chance for a real, actual date, complete with no monsters or ice walls, or even snow queens for that matter. And I thought it was going really, really well."
His breath comes out in a heavy sigh and he looks up at her. Any anger Emma had dissipates as she sees how utterly wrecked he looks. "Aye, it was. I don't know what came over me," he whispers dejectedly. "I'm so sorry, Swan."
She brings a hand up to his face and brushes her thumb across the faint scar on his cheek. "Hey, it's alright. I'm not mad at you. I'm just concerned." She sees a flicker of hope in his eyes as he leans into her hand and presses a kiss to her palm before grasping her hand in his own.
"The Dark One said the hand might cause... issues. But I chose to ignore him. Figured he was just trying to goad me into changing my mind."
"What kind of issues?"
He licks his lips absently, like he has do idea how that makes her breath catch in her chest (he totally does, he's 'quite perceptive' after all). "He may have implied rejoining the hand to myself could bring back the more loathsome qualities I had at the time the hand was taken from me. Those parts of myself I've since overcome."
Her eyes fall closed. "Killian, if there was a chance reattaching your hand could bring back that darkness, why would you go through with it?"
He's smiling sadly as he brings both hands up to her face, softly holding her. "I couldn't miss out on this," he admits, bringing his hands down her arms to grasp both hands, "no matter the cost."
Emma gulps, overwhelmed with the implication of his words (and not for the first time). "You did this… for me?"
This time, his smile does reach his eyes, crinkles softening the corners. "Aye."
She removes her hands from his and wraps her arms around him beneath the leather of his jacket, pulling herself against him. Her face nuzzles into his neck and she feels his tense muscles start to relax as he holds her tightly to him, returning her embrace. Emma smiles when his lips gently press against her forehead. "You know," she says softly, peeking up at him, "you didn't have to reattach your hand. I would be just as content with your hook. It's a part of you too."
His lips meet hers in a soft kiss and his smile grows just enough that a hint of his dimples are visible. "I appreciate that, love. But I also believe you deserve more than a suitor with a hook where his hand should be. You deserve someone whole."
She rolls her eyes. "Please tell me you're not trying the whole 'you deserve better than me' argument right now. Because it's cliché. And full of crap. And I don't want anyone other than you, and I don't need you to change wh-"
He cuts her off with a kiss, this time significantly less gentle. His right hand tangles in her hair, fingers massaging her scalp in the most delicious way. She's silently grateful for the presence of his left hand as it snakes down to the small of her back, firmly pressing her to him. She tilts her head slightly, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss and smiles as she feels his breath catch.
"Emma," he groans, her name sounding like some cross between a curse and a prayer on his lips. He tugs lightly on her hair and his mouth descends down her neck. She tries (and fails) not to shiver as his permanent 5-day-old shadow scrapes against her skin. She brings her own hands up to his hair, running her fingers through it . Killian nips at the junction of her neck and her shoulder, causing her to gasp. She feels rather than hears his low chuckle at her response as he sucks at the spot just below her ear that makes her melt.
"Careful," she hisses, shoving back the feelings that are threatening to outweigh her better judgment. "I wouldn't put it past David to run his sword through you if I come home with a hickey."
He pulls back and smirks challengingly. "I have quite a bit more experience with a sword than your father, love. I don't doubt I could take him in a duel."
She shakes her head silently before pulling his head to meet her lips once again, more chastely this time. "Speaking of going home, should we start walking that way? Going without a jacket wasn't the best idea I've ever had," she says, shivering as if for emphasis.
Killian immediately takes his own jacket off and pulls it on over her shoulders (because of course he does), smoothing down her arms to try to warm her up. Emma smiles up at him in gratitude and her heart lurches at the adoration written plain on his face. He gently kisses her forehead and grabs her right hand (she's still not used to that), placing his fingers between hers. "Let's get you home, love."
He doesn't just drop her off at the loft; Snow invites him to stay a bit, offering him hot cocoa as she, Dave, and Elsa watch one of the moving pictures that are so common in this realm. Emma leaves the room to change out of her dress (which now sports a large wine stain that makes it hard for him to control his anger directed toward a certain former Merry Man). When she returns, she's wearing her nightclothes, causing Killian to blush, though no one else seems to think anything of it. She sits down next to him on the couch in front of the television, stealing a sip of his beverage and pulling a blanket over top of them, allowing them to snuggle a little closer.
He doesn't watch the movie, not really. He's much too preoccupied with his arm around Emma, her head on his shoulder, and her fingers wrapped through his. He's never felt this completely whole in his life, and it has nothing to do with the reappearance of his other hand.