He's quite perceptive. It's a trait he prides himself on having, even if his captain – well, former captain now – didn't appreciate it. More often than not, his uncanny ability to spot a would-be munity or the extra rations the captain stashed would land him in the brig for the night or swabbing the deck during the bewitching hours.
In other words, just as he fears it's done in this moment, the skill often got him into trouble.
He's still entranced by the feel of her lithe body against his. It was a new sensation, one he's not sure he deserves with his cowardice and hesitancy. The slightest hints of roses and cinnamon still waft around him. It's wonderfully feminine for such a tough lass, and yet there's no other scent that fully captures her essence.
It's going to take quite a while and many more moments to himself than usual to recover from her.
But now she's off, swaying her hips in an ungodly manner, blonde hair flicking to and fro as she joins up with her boy. Henry's certainly inherited her tenacity and gumption, but neither her fair hair nor her height.
It's not the first time since Killian's met him that the feeling of severe absence intensifies as he watches mother and son interact. She's tousling his hair and he's shoving her, not quite away, just off his head, with the awkward laughter of an embarrassed child. He feels like he should be part of it, join in on the jokes. Not just because his heart's never felt so free, but because it's necessary. Almost like it's his job to cherish this time together until his duty to protect them kicks in, even though he knows they're more than capable on their own.
He feels like they're family. And maybe in this alternate reality of theirs, they are.
Only one way to find out.
Emma calls him over with a wave and he takes swift steps to meet them.
"Henry managed to find some sort of," she points to the food on a stick in her son's hands, "meat. I think."
The boy shrugs as he takes another bite. "Tastes like chicken." He offers the stick to Killian, who declines a bite. Henry shrugs again and mutters, "More for me."
"Lead the way, teenage trashcan," Emma teases, motioning forward despite the boy's grimace. "Take us to the food." With a grin over her shoulder, Emma follows her son down the alleys.
She's mesmerizing and her carefree attitude toward him, her complete trust and acceptance of him and his handicaps…well, he can help but chuckle in disbelief at the entire situation.
Killian rushes after them, but even his knowledge of the streets can't aid him in keeping up with the adventurous duo. It causes him a bit of panic, them being lost amongst the dock crowds. He finally finds her, considering some trinkets and tchotchkes at a tent of a vendor lady.
"Anything catch your fancy, love?" he asks in her ear. It's uncharacteristic of him – Liam taught him that to frighten a lady is to tempt the gods – but it feels right, him sneaking up behind her and whispering something in her ear. But he's surprised her, can tell by the way she skittishly jumps upon hearing his voice, and he's just about to apologize profusely when he notices her body's inclination to fall into him.
This woman is something else.
"I'm so so sorry," he apologizes. "Beg your pardon. I only meant to have a bit of fun."
She huffs out a laugh. "Don't worry about it," Emma assures him. Moving to the next vendor, she says, "Henry's pulled worse pranks on me."
The gods must've heard his innermost thoughts. This is the opening in the conversation he's awaited. Killian looks down to their feet and scratches behind his ear, taking these precious seconds to screw up what little courage he has. "Um, actually," he starts, but her attention's divided between him and a delicate ring on the table before them. This is an important conversation, one he doesn't want to repeat because he doesn't think he could take the pressure of having it twice. It's only natural, then, or so he tells himself, for him to grab her hand in his. It garners her attention, and it's her eyes, bright with hope, that give him the courage to soldier on. "I've an inquiry about your boy."
"Ask away," she responds. Her smile is sweet and he imagines his other self is completely enamored with the way it lights her up.
"You, um, you mentioned we were quite close in your world," he says quietly. His hands are moving before him as if trying to physically grab the words he desires from the charged air between them.
"I did," she agrees. She's facing him completely now and he's so flustered, Killian's positive she can hear him gulp away his distress.
"And Henry said I taught him all he knows of sailing."
"Which you did." Emma already knows him too well, can see a question in his eyes. "What are you wondering?"
"My son," Killian spits out. Blood rushes to his cheeks and ears, but he still feels the need to clarify. "Henry: is he my son?"
Emma's face falls minutely and it's only then does he realize how stupid an idea it ever was. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume," he babbles. "It's just, he sort of has my hair and he and I just seemed to have –"
She's shaking her head, but there's a small smile on her lips when she speaks. "No, you're not Henry's father," she tells him. Her eyes get sad for a moment as she says, "His dad's gone," and it makes Killian even more shameful he brought it up in the first place.
"I'm truly sorry, Emma," he apologizes again. "I didn't mean to touch on such a sensitive topic. I just – you said we were close and –"
Her hand comes to cradle his cheek and he leans into the softness her skin offers. He feels the fingers of her other hand pulse around his. He hadn't even realized they were still linked in that manner. Her touch shocks him into silence, the only remnant of his gaffe the blush on his cheeks.
"We are close," Emma reassures him. "Henry's dad isn't around, but you are." Her hand falls back to her side and she smiles up at him. "He trusts you. I trust him with you."
"Really?" He can't say he's all too stunned, given the way mother and son have been acting around him, but it still pleases him to hear that, while Henry isn't his by blood, he's beginning to believe he's kin in nearly every other way.
Emma nods. "You're my boys," she says simply with a shrug.
His heart could not possibly fly higher than it is now.
But the world comes crashing around them when Henry, out of breath, runs up to them from out of the crowd.
"They're here," he gasps. "Lily, the soldiers. They're here."
Killian's eyes shoot up and immediately find the Evil Queen's regalia among the scraps of fabric peasants wear. "Get behind me," he demands of Emma and her son.
"Killian, you can take them by yourself." Worry tinges Emma's voice, her hand coming up on his shoulder as his reaches for his sword.
"I won't let them hurt you," he mutters back to her. "I'm going to put your sword fighting lesson to use."
"Killian." It's almost a whine and a cry at once, one that nearly breaks him, but he stands firm, stands up for himself and the people he…
Well, the people he loves.
"I will protect you, Emma," he promises. "You and Henry will get back to your time, but only if you survive."
Emma's expression scares him to death, but the Queen is rapidly approaching and time is short. She pushes Henry away, back into the mob of passing faces, and, with a hasty kiss to his lips that still manages to send him reeling, she hurries after her son.
God, that woman will be the death of him.
a/n: obligatory Killian-thinking-Henry's-his-son story to start off this five or six part series of one-shots about, you guessed it, father-like relationships. kind of. it's just gonna be fluff because i need it. you need it. everyone needs it. you don't necessarily keep up with them. these stories can be read as stand alones, but they also sort of interconnect.
as always, feel free to leave a word. until next time.