A little "missing scene" during the finale - since Emma and Killian didn't have much screentime together (boo! hiss!) I threw them in the shower together and wrote this. After all, they did change clothes at some point so why not a bit of smut before that happened? Hope you enjoy (and yes, I'll be back working on my other fics now).

"I need a shower."

Killian closed the door behind them and nodded, moving a bit slower than normal with his boots shuffling against the floor and a slight stoop to his shoulders, "Aye, I'll just-"

"Are you coming?"

Whatever else he had been about to say died on his lips as he gaped at her in the darkened foyer. She would have been amused by it before - rendering the King of Innuendo speechless was no easy task - but right now she just needed to get out of her funeral clothes and not think for ten minutes, not think about whatever the hell it was Gold was planning now, not think about Robin Hood and how a good man had died a terrible death, not think about another son left without a father, not think about whether trusting the Wicked Witch of the West was really a good idea, and she didn't want to do it alone.

Luckily, she didn't have to.

Her fingers curled around the hook and she gave a gentle tug, pulling him towards the stairs. He followed in silence, reaching up to scratch behind his ear with a slight flush rising on the apples of his cheeks.

Captain Hook was blushing. Score one for Emma Swan.

There was that slightly stale, musty smell of disuse in the air as they made their way up the steps and down the hall with a thin layer of dust covering most surfaces. She'd been staying at the loft with her parents since they'd returned from the Underworld, numb with her grief and unable to bear the sight of the house that would never be a home. But everything had changed, again, her world spinning wildly on its axis and settling back into place the second she had heard his voice behind her, the familiar call of "Swan" that had shattered her heart and mended it in one fell swoop. Killian had come back, he had come home, and whatever ghosts that had haunted these four walls were gone for good now, lingering traces of dark magic chased away by the light of his resurrection, the terrible pain washed away in the flood of unbridled joy, all betrayals forgiven (though not forgotten, there were some things you could never forget.)

She flicked on a single lamp when they made their way into the master bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the king-sized bed to kick off her heels. Killian hovered uncertainly in the open door, looking around for a moment before he finally crossed the threshold and joined her in the room. He had never come up to the second floor during his disastrous visits when darkness had flowed in both their veins, twisting the best of intentions into a tangled web of lies and deceit. Were the memories running through his head like they were hers? "It didn't bloody work...this isn't who I am...how could you do this to me...so much for our future, Swan."

"The advertisement didn't do the place justice," he said at last, still moving with a careful gait as he took in the large picture window, the pair of armchairs in the corner with the knitted afghans draped over the backs, and finally ran his fingers along the top of the long dresser. When he glanced in the mirror that stood on top of it he froze, eyes widening comically when he saw that she had stripped down to her underwear while his back was turned. The plain black bra and bikini-cut panties were nothing special - cotton instead of lace or silk - nothing like the fancy corsets and stockings that the women in the Enchanted Forest wore, but he stared at her like she was a supermodel, a goddess, instead of a woman with a bedraggled ponytail and eyes still a bit puffy and red from crying herself to sleep at night.

"Swan," he croaked out, throat moving as he swallowed heavily and hand clenching into a fist at his side, "Emma."

She was on him at once, he turned just in time to catch her in his arms as she molded herself to him with their lips meeting in a hot slide, needy and desperate and alive, so warm and alive. He hadn't been warm in the Underworld, but he hadn't been cold to the touch either, caught as he was in the limbo between life and death. Now? Now he was burning, heat rolling off him right through the thin shirt and jacket. It had been raining in the cemetery and his clothes were still damp with it, feeling strange under her hands. It wasn't his usual leather jacket and matching vest and even as his mouth found a spot behind her ear that made her gasp and arch towards him the realisation struck through her like lightening.

They were the clothes he had died in.

Emma wrenched herself out of his arms with a small cry, her hand pressed to her mouth. They were the clothes he'd been wearing when she murdered him.

Forgiven, but not forgotten.

"What's wrong? Swan, what- oh bloody hell!"

When she touched his chest with a shaking hand, fingers splaying flat across the spot where she had run him through he seemed to realize why she was so upset and he immediately flung off the jacket and started working the buttons of this shirt with his hand, "Don't. Don't blame yourself. Emma you saved me, you saved me a thousand times over. Please believe that."

There was a mark on him that hadn't been there before, a thick, silvery knot of scar tissue right in the centre of his chest that no magic would be ever able to erase. Her thumb brushed over it and Killian froze again with the open shirt still clinging to his shoulders and his pants hanging loose on his hips. A shudder ripped through him when she bent her head and her lips dusted over the scar, kissing the spot in silent apology and feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek. Fingers slipped through her hair and the hook rested on the curve of her waist while he leaned against the dresser and she leaned on him. For a long moment neither one of them spoke, until he broke the silence in a low voice.

"You said something about a shower, love?"

God (or Zeus, maybe), all she wanted to do was crawl into bed with him and not leave for at least a week, but another crisis was brewing in town (fucking Gold) and they barely had time even for this, but she was damned if she wasn't going to spend a bit of time celebrating the fact that Killian was alive. Everyone else could wait for ten fucking minutes and let them have that, at least.

The master bath was an ensuite, connected to the bedroom and larger than her first apartment. It had a jacuzzi tub that made her dream of lounging under a froth of bubbles with a glass of wine and a trashy book, his and her sinks, and a separate shower more than big enough for two. Emma went to turn the water on while Killian finished undressing in the bedroom, making a mental note as she twisted the knobs to shove his clothes into a bag later and burn them. It took her a moment of fiddling to figure out how to get the spray to the right temperature, she hadn't really used the bathroom when she was living (or more accurately, existing, since what she'd been doing couldn't really be called living) in the house before. Dark Ones didn't need sleep, and she'd kept clean with magic instead of baths, but she had stocked it in readiness for when they'd be together again. Two new toothbrushes sat in a cup on the vanity, there was shampoo and conditioner in the shower and she'd found some bay rum scented soap and cologne that she thought Killian might like - spicy, with an old-fashioned looking label that depicted a clipper ship. Steam began to fog the mirror while she unhooked her bra and thumbed her underwear, down her legs, kicking them to the side and making sure there was enough towels. She heard the bathroom door open with a slight squeak of the hinges and turned, going absolutely still as she took in the sight before her.

Killian was naked. Completely, the hook and brace were both gone and her gaze darted down to the scarred wrist before she could stop it. But there was plenty else for her to look at, miles and miles of bare skin and dark hair and a rapidly growing erection between his legs that had her aching and slick in a heartbeat. His own gaze was glued to her breasts, nipples hard and pebbled despite the steamy air. It had been so long since they'd shared this and she wanted to spend all night slowly reacquainting herself with every square inch of him until neither one of them could even walk, but they didn't have time for that now so she simply beckoned him forward with a crook of her finger and into the shower stall. He groaned deliciously when the hot spray hit him, closing his eyes and bending his head under the showerhead to soak his hair and neck with his hand braced against the tile. While he was getting good and wet she picked up the bottle of body wash from the little shelf and squeezed it directly into her hands, not bothering with the poof.

He let out a sound that made her stomach clench when she began to wash his back, a little moan of appreciation as she traced his shoulders and down his spine. The suds ran down her arms and slipped across her breasts when she pressed against him, briefly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. His ass got special attention, it really was spectacular in or out of his leather pants and she spent a good solid minute making sure it was squeaky clean.

"As good as that feels I don't know if I should be offended that you apparently think my arse is as dirty as if I'd been pumping out the bilges by hand in nought but my skin."

She didn't really know what that meant but she smiled and slapped him lightly on said arse, giving it a little squeeze for good measure, "Oh, hush."

Her fingers slipped between his legs for a moment, teasing and stroking before she soaped the backs of his thighs, crouching down to reach his calves. Killian turned before she could stand up again, putting her exactly eye level with his groin. Water ran down his chest and abs, the droplets taking paths that she wanted to follow with hands and lips and tongue. His erection was at full mast (pun intended) and he reached down and grasped himself, rubbing his thumb over the head and giving her that familiar smirk from above. Swaggering, cocky (pun intended, again) Killian Jones was back, voice dropping low and eyebrow popping up as he gazed down at her and began to stroke himself with a lazy grip.

"Are you going to wash this side of me too?"

She gave him what she hoped was a sultry smile and squeezed out another generous dollop of body wash into her hands, lathering them together and running them up the front of his hard thighs. Her thumbs skimmed around the curly thatch of dark pubic hair, deliberately not touching the cock that bobbed eagerly right in front of her face. It was tempting to just take him into her mouth and suck him off until he couldn't see straight, but she was going to make every second of this last. Fate kept wrenching them apart, new stormclouds forever brewing on the horizon, but Killian was here and alive and everything else could wait outside the bathroom door for now. The guilt she carried that he had come back when others couldn't seemed to sluice off her skin and run down the drain along with the suds, they might have forever or just a day, but that was all any of them had, really. The life they lived was uncertain at best, they'd learned that the hard way.

His flat stomach contracted sharply when she ran a soapy hand over it, rising up from the floor with wet tendrils of hair clinging to her breasts. Emma felt him rest his wrist against her hip like he had in the bedroom, the thick ring of scar tissue that circled it was somewhat rough against her skin. So many scars, spread across his body like cities on a map, each marking a moment in his life. One day she might know the story behind each, but for now she continued to wash the planes of his broad chest, working the rich lather into every line and dip. Killian tilted his head back with a sigh, baring his long throat. It struck her suddenly how vulnerable he was like this, no hook or weapon at the ready. The corny cartoon villain she had once pictured him as was long gone, he was just a man like any other, albeit one who had walked through fire more than once. Finally, she lowered her hand and lifted his away, wrapping her fingers around the rigid shaft and feeling the shiver that ran through him at the contact. Her bare feet nudged against his as she shuffled closer, latching onto the place where his neck met his shoulder and sucking hard.

"Bloody siren," Killian muttered, reaching up to cup her breast with callused fingers while his other arm went around her waist and pulled her closer. The ache between her legs practically begged for satisfaction now, his cock pressed to her stomach as she leaned back slightly and looked at the new mark on his neck. She could heal it easily before they went back out, but she had deliberately chosen a spot that would be hidden under his collar. If he had to carry the others, she wanted him to bear the marks of her love alongside them.

"My turn."

His smile was somehow both sweet and calculating as he handed her the plastic bottle and gave her an expectant look. She doled out a palmful of the creamy liquid into his waiting hand, trying and failing not to think about what it reminder her of as he let it drizzle down her chest. His touch was gentle, far more than she would have once thought him capable of, a soft caress that had her closing her eyes and leaning back against the tiled wall. Killian traced her breasts and belly, his thumb dragging across her navel and making her breath hitch. He stroked the sides of her hips, one after the other, his leg pushing between hers and spreading her thighs open.

"Look at me."

There was a hint of command in his tone, an echo of the pirate captain who'd spent centuries giving orders and being obeyed. And fuck, if it didn't make her even wetter. Her eyes fluttered open and stared right into his, the forget-me-not blue that had haunted her dreams.

"I love you, Emma Swan."

She reached up and traced the curve of his mouth, fingers sweeping along the line of his jaw as he pressed his forehead to hers and whispering,"I love you too."

His hand curled under her thigh and hitched it over his hip. The angle was slightly awkward, she had to balance on the ball of her foot while he bent his knees, but it didn't matter when he finally slid inside and they were joined at last. It took her a moment to adjust, stretching along the length of him while he murmured soothing words in her ear and made shallow thrusts until he was buried to the hilt. She could feel the muscles flex under her hands, the strength in the lean lines of his body as he easily held her up and began to move faster. There was no more teasing, there was only the sudden race towards completion, skin meeting skin in a wet slap and the pounding of the water over the both of them that muffled the sounds they were making. The glass door was completely fogged, making it seem like there was nothing in the world except the two of them and there wasn't, not now. Killian fucked her with deep strokes as she clung to his neck, burying her face in his shoulder and squeezing him from the inside on each hard thrust. It didn't take long for the high to crest over her like a wave, crying out her climax while he gave a ragged groan and followed almost at once, pulsing and jerking with his fingers digging hard into her ass. There would probably be a bruise there later but she didn't give a shit, it would match the hickey on his neck and remind her of this whenever she sat down for the next day or two.

For a long minute afterwards neither one of them spoke, both flushed and panting until she finally reached out a hand and turned the tap from hot to cool. The last of the soap rinsed off their skin and swirled down the drain, leaving them pink and clean and suddenly bashful. Killian took the towel she handed to him after they stepped out of the shower, it was navy blue and had never been used. He gave her a quiet word of thanks, drying off slowly with his back turned. Emma wrapped her own towel around her breasts, tucking the edge in and stepping up behind him to lay her head between his shoulders and drape her arms across his chest. His hand covered hers, fingers lacing together over his heart.

"Thank you."

A chuckle escaped him, "If you ever require assistance in bathing again, I am always at your service. And I won't forget to wash your hair next time."

She started, realising that they hadn't even touched the shampoo. Oh well, that's why God (or Zeus? That would take some getting used to) had invented ponytails.

"Next time we'll try the tub."

Killian eyed it with interest while she opened the bathroom door. As soon as she did she could hear her phone beeping from where she had left it on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with voicemails and texts. With a wave of her hand they were both fully dried and dressed, the Saviour couldn't take a night off in this crazy town, much as she might like to.

Killian didn't hesitate, holding out his hand, "Ready to go, Swan?"

She looked down at his outstretched palm and laid her own over it, "Yeah."

He gave a reassuring squeeze and a smile and she knew that whatever was out there, they would face it together.