This is frilencer on Tumblr's fault. Completely. Also Lifehouse.
the broken locks were a warning
you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded
I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
that are looking for a purpose
they're still looking for life
It's been quiet for weeks now- no villains or crazy weather or anything even remotely resembling trouble around, unless Grumpy shoving Dopey into a telephone pole and giving him a minor concussion counts. It's the most serene Storybrooke has been since Emma arrived, and though she still has her eyes pealed for the next crisis, she's doing her best to enjoy it.
She's spent an immeasurable amount of time with Killian, and they've officially added a few more real dates to their list- movie nights at her new place and dinners and even a bowling alley trip in which Killian learned how to bowl and got better than her, all in one night. She doesn't care, really, just lets him tease her about it with weak glares her only attempt at defense. His smile is brighter again, more familiar, and she still wonders how she got so distracted, how she didn't realize sooner the seriousness of his predicament.
Dwelling on it certainly doesn't make any difference to the past, so she tries not to do so. Instead, she focuses on kissing him whenever she has the chance, holding his hand as they walk down the sidewalk, pulling him close when no one is around memorizing the way his arms feel around his waist, the way his heart beats beneath her ear, the way she feels lighthearted when he kisses her head, the way his voice feels pressed against her jaw.
"So," she begins one day, sliding up to him and looping her arm through his. The smile he shoots her is vibrant, flashing teeth and everything that she missed when he didn't have his heart. "My parents want me to have dinner at their loft this Friday night, with Henry."
"Sounds like a pleasant time," he tells her, leaning into her as their steps almost automatically fall into sync.
"Mhmm," she hums, smirking at him. "And my boyfriend is invited, too."
He stops walking, fixing her with a smile so sweet, so unbearably timid, that it takes her breath away. "Really?" he asks, his voice a bit breathy, and whether the question is intended for his invitation to dinner or at the label she'd just presented, she isn't sure.
(Silly pirate.)
"Of course," she chimes in an easy response to both, reaching up to cup his face in her hands.
When he smiles wide, she can feel his dimples underneath her fingertips no matter how he tries to control his features. Her heart trips over its beats, and she kisses him before she can do something stupid or embarrassing due to the misbehaving organ.
(Like tell him she loves him.)
He gets there early, showing up with not only a rose for her, but one for her mother, as well, who takes it with a smile. If he didn't seem so nervous, Emma would tease him about how nervous he is. Instead, she takes the extended rose and kisses his cheek, whispering a "Relax" in his ear as she does so.
(Add the word boyfriend to the equation and her confident swashbuckler is suddenly a lip biting, neck scratching mess.)
She puts her hand on his knee when they sit down on the couch, ignoring the pursed lips from David that follow the action. The smile that tugs up the corners of Killian's mouth is worth it.
The quick raised eyebrow and smirk he shoots her when her parents aren't looking is definitely worth it.
When Neal starts crying in the midst of Snow cooking (and David taking orders that are, in theory, supposed to be helping with the cooking), Emma takes the opening and drags Killian back to the nursery to get him.
She picks up the baby, who immediately quietens down to a murmur of tears, and then she focuses on Killian. "Are you okay?"
He nods, his chin tilting up slightly (but his cheeks reddening just a bit, too) as he replies. "Fine, love."
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth does little to hide her smile. "Okay. You just... you seem nervous, is all."
His sigh is heavy as he slowly, more gentle than anything she's ever seen, reaches out to brush his knuckle across Neal's cheek. The baby coos up at him, agape mouth showing off his two new teeth. He stares at Neal and keeps his hand where it is, though she can tell his mind is elsewhere. "It just... suddenly feels different, being under the eye of your parents with the... implication of... us being changed. I hadn't thought about it until..."
"Until I called you my boyfriend?" she questions, tilting her head at him.
His nod is so small, anyone else would have missed it. "Killian." She shifts Neal's weight so that she can support him with one arm, putting the free one on her pirate's neck, fingers brushing against the hair at the nape. "You've been my boyfriend for a while, and they've all known it. Trust me. This is just dinner with my family that you already have gotten the third degree from, with the exception of this little guy right here because he can't speak. You belong here."
The small, trembling chuckle that sounds from the back of his throat is enough to make her smile. "I suppose I am being a bit foolish."
She kisses him slowly, the feeling of his hand on her waist making her veins spark in all the right ways at the wrong time. Forcing herself to pull away is harder than she predicted, their faces staying close even as they part. "It's not foolish, Killian. It's sweet that you're so worried about their opinions. It... It makes me think you plan on sticking around."
(In her mind, she winces at the sudden turn, the quick upheaval of all her old fears at the worst time, the way she can't ever seem to leave them behind no matter how hard she tries.)
It's his turn to tilt his head at her, his happy expression faltering just a bit. He tugs her body just a bit closer with the arm around her waist, careful of the baby in her arms. "Emma Swan," he murmurs, his tone a little rough. "If I haven't made it clear by now, allow me to shed some light. Foregoing outside forces beyond my control, I am not leaving your side unless you wish it."
Her answering smile is wide, and all the dismay disappears for the moment. "Not gonna happen."
He grins. "Good."
(She ignores the look on her mother's face that says she may have been eavesdropping, and she tries not to linger on the way her father is trying to hide a smile when she hands Neal over to him.)
(Damn them.)
She doesn't stare at him for too long when her father asks for his help setting the table. She keeps her face neutral when her Henry begs Killian to tell him a pirate story while everyone is eating. She even manages not to show her emotions when her mother asks him to hold Neal just long enough for her to grab his bottle.
(Even though Killian looks as though he might pass out.)
When she walks over to stand next to him, he tries to smile, though he seems intently focused on the newborn in his arms. "Relax," she tells him for the second time that night. "She didn't even make you take off the hook, because she trusts you."
His expression shifts, only slightly, to that of a man who is astounded, shocked that such a thing could be true. Her smile quivers just a bit at that, and she buries her face into his shoulder, reaching up to hold Neal's little fingers in her own. The baby giggles, the sound ringing through the apartment. Emma feels her own face light up as she watches him, but when she glances up at Killian, he's watching her, instead.
Her cheeks heat instantly at the look in his eyes, something so open and vulnerable in his features for a moment that she can't find words to speak. She can't look away either, lost in his gaze as Neal continues to laugh.
Snow returns a moment later and breaks their trance, her soft face smiling, a bottle held in her hands like a prize. Much to the apparent surprise of the man standing next to her, Snow doesn't immediately take the baby back. "I do believe he likes you, Killian."
He shares her smile, extra careful when returning Neal to her arms, and Snow doesn't notice the way his eyes have teared up, but Emma presses her face even further into his shoulder, holding his hand a little tighter. Her heart breaks when she thinks of how he hasn't had a family in so long, he probably doesn't remember what it's like.
(She still forgets sometimes, too.)
It's easier when they all settle down in the main room to watch a movie, but when his hand flinches in hesitation, Emma picks up his arm to wrap it around her shoulders, leaning into his chest. The look he gives her is strange, and she doesn't understand why he looks so awed until she glances at her parents to see that they're propped up the exact same way.
Her eyes flick up to his, and she's immediately all too aware of the emotion pooled in his eyes (do his mirror hers?), the questions and hope and light that she knows neither of them have grown accustomed to yet. She wonders if they'll ever get used to the spark that is always setting off, the way their hearts jump at every kiss or touch, the way they fit together seamlessly.
The smile that tips up the corners of her lips is shaky, she's sure, but despite feeling the gazes of her parents on her face, she sneaks him a kiss to his jaw before settling back in, nestling into his warmth and making a vow to make sure this never goes away.
"Thank you for coming, Killian."
Snow gives him a quick hug, squeezing his shoulder a little too firmly before stepping away. As for her father, the handshake he gives is accompanied by a high chin and stern look that doesn't hold any heat. Emma barely manages not to roll her eyes when his lips tug up.
"See you around..." His grin breaks out completely then. "Pirate."
She can tell there's a line just on the tip of Killian's tongue, a joke that he wishes he could say but for some reason won't. Instead, he smiles at her father before following her out the door.
Henry walks ahead of them, headed to the apartment only a few blocks past Granny's, but Emma stops at the door of the inn, unwilling to let go of Killian's hand just yet.
"I'm really glad you came tonight," she says, squeezing his fingers just a bit.
I'm really glad you're here.
"My pleasure," he whispers into the chilly air, already leaning in to kiss her. "Thank you for extending the invitation."
His lips are warm, and she melts into his kiss reflexively, holding onto his shoulders in order to anchor herself to him. Her heartbeats stutter, his warmth spreads like a fire, and she wonders how she's ever meant to pull away from something that feels so incredible.
He does so for her, though she chases his lips for one more quick peck. He laughs, the happiness in the sound so tangible that Emma laughs, too, pressing their foreheads together and holding close for a prolonged moment. His hand is tucked securely into her hair, his fingers trailing across her scalp ever so faintly and yet branding her skin with his touch.
"Don't let my parents fool you anymore, okay?" she tells him, gripping the lapels of his coat firmly, as if the tightness of her grip affects how he hears her words. "They love you."
Something flashes in his eyes that makes her stomach turn, a thousand butterflies fluttering and taking off all at once. His nod is a broken motion, and she suddenly can't feel any of her self control, any of her premonitions that always arise, any of her doubts or fears.
They're suddenly all gone, and it's all she can do not to break into tears at how free she suddenly feels. "I love you," she murmurs in a small voice, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
(It's everything she felt in the nursery, all the reasons that he should stay and why her parents invited him to dinner, all the explanation that's needed for them to accept him without many questions.)
(They must have known that she loved him, even before she could admit it herself.)
He gives her one of those looks, the ones that shake her to her core and make her wonder how she ever considered anything before him real. "And I love you, my darling Emma."
His kiss, passionate and loving and everything in between, leaves no room for any uncertainty in the truth of his words. Emma holds on tight and just lets him pull her under, because if there's anyone she trusts not to let her drown in the process, it's him.
(Maybe it always has been.)