(Three Words, One Kiss, and a Dash of Cinnamon)

Just a little fic about how Emma's love for hot chocolate with cinnamon has evolved over the years.

It's 4 AM In 2001 when she tries hot chocolate with cinnamon for the first time.

It began as an accidental love affair. Neal was always one to chide her for her sweet tooth. He didn't understand her affection for the tiny chocolates and candied delicacies that she stole instead of vying for something more filling. He would always yell at her when she complained of hunger. She was always yearning for more sweets to simmer the beast inside her stomach that demanded more sugar (and she was more than happy to oblige).

She had grown up deprived of M&Ms and Hershey bars, peanut butter cups, and three musketeers (all of which she now loves.) She was deprived of Halloweens, a day that was made for her, because her foster parents and various orphanages were too overpopulated to even think about guiding a bunch of rowdy kids around. She was forced to watch the happy children roam the busy streets in search of the best treats from her window.

With her new independence, it had become such a luxury for her to be able to consume such tasty things. She couldn't resist the hunger she possessed for anything containing more than the reasonable amount of calories.

It was normal for her to order hot chocolate the rare times her and Neal actually went out to eat. Neal would idly watch her as he munched happily on a burger, smothering his fries in ketchup. Emma was quite content with her choice and would never not feel satisfied by it's consuming warmth and filling nature.

"Must you drink so slowly?" He whines, as he finishes off the last of his fries.

"Yes." She replies, smiling over the rim, basking in the aroma of the sweet whipped cream.

"Have you ever had that with cinnamon?" He asks, as he picks at something that is stuck in his tooth.

"No?" She crinkles her brow, her nose twitches as the idea of a foreign spice tainting her precious drink.

"Tastes good."

"Sweet?" She asks, peering at the array of spices that are lined at the end of the table.

"I wouldn't suggest anything not sweet to you, babe." He says with a laugh.

She smiles slyly at him, as she lifts the cinnamon shaker. She eyes it warily, before shaking a tad into her cup. She stares for a moment, watching the cinnamon be absorbed by the heat of the steaming drink. She brings the cup to her mouth, enjoying the tickling scent that the cinnamon adds. She sips slowly, closing her eyes as she revels in the sweet mixture of ingredients that have all come together to give her this amazing drink.

"Oh my god." She whispers, still feeling the tang of it dance on her tongue. She looks up at Neal, his brown eyes jump across her features, a smug grin planted on his face.

"Told ya." He says, as he leans towards her. She too leans forward meeting him halfway, catching his lips in a quick kiss.

(His breathe is stale, lingering with the bitterness of coffee and cigarettes.)

(She takes another sip to drown him out.)

Kissing Neal was never pleasant. She never felt sparks tingle on her lips, or her heart leap in her chest. She never felt weak in the knees at the sight of him. She hated the way he tasted, and she thinks that is perhaps why she could not fathom the thought of ever drinking coffee, for she feared the sweetness that resided on her tongue would turn as bitter as he tasted.

There was a coldness that seemed to emanate from him and it was starting to become contagious. She began to feel a hollowness creep into her chest that not even chocolate could fill. The long nights curled up in the back of the bug during the East Coast winters gave her no hope that she would ever feel warmth again.

For even when her body was flush against his, she felt nothing but ice. Her love for hot chocolate and cinnamon faded with her love for Neal, and the warmness that once satisfied her soul left her feeling empty and bland.

(She never loved him, she is sure of that now.)

***
It's 8 AM in 2011 when she falls in love with sweets again.

He's there, a rugged mess of facial hair and bed head, holding a box of pastries above her. He's smiling at her, tempting her with the sweets as he gracefully plants a hand on his hip.

"Bear claw?" He asks, with a knowing smirk. She hums, staring at the monstrous thing with eager eyes. She picks it up and quickly brings it to her mouth, before she could have a chance to doubt consuming it. The familiar texture of sugar coating her teeth sends a shiver down her spine.

Her eyes flutter closed as she slowly chews the delicacy, feeling her toes curl and a moan forming at the back of her throat. She forgot how amazing these damned things are, she forgot how good and whole sweets make her feel. And she watches him, his blue eyes are more enticing than the sugar that is sticking to her fingers. And for a moment, she feels like she has a chance to rekindle the flame of a past love affair.

It was a hell of a night, and getting decked by Regina didn't help the ache that had settled into her pounding head. She watches him tentatively dab at the wound on her forehead, feels his breath warm her cheeks and the lingering scent of honey captures her nose. She closes her eyes, enjoying the warmth that is billowing from him. She wants to taste for herself the sweetness of his mouth, wants to be wrapped in the warmth of his embrace…

When she kisses kisses him, he tastes just as she imagined. An enticing mixture of honey and gin. She basks in the tingle that erupts across her lips, and she feels her heart leap into her throat and her knees grow weak as his fingers tangle their way into her ponytail. She feels him slip, watches as he collapses. Her heart drops violently, her knees stiffen, her lips feel sour and stinging. She watches him die, she watches the man she thought she could love leave her.

(She never had the chance to fall in love Graham.)

(The phrase sweet as honey hasn't sat well with her since.)

***
It's 6:17 AM in 2014 when she falls in love with Killian Jones.

She is sure she can hold onto sleep for a little longer, despite the blaring of her alarm clock alerting her that she should not. She urges her mind to return the relaxed slumber that had encompassed her all evening, begging her body for just five more minutes of bliss before she had to deal with the chaos that was her life.

She grunts at the insistent beeping, willing it to stop with her mind. She feels something heavy lean over her, pushing her further into the mattress. The extra weight is uncomfortable, she fidgets to release herself from the lump that has attached itself to her side.

"Emma." She hears him whisper tangled with a laugh.

"Two more," she murmurs in reply, burying herself further into her pillows.

"Emma." He says again, as his hand finds her waist amidst the blankets that she has buried herself in. She feels his cold fingertips gently squeeze her, and she gasps. Her eyes fly open at the sudden fleeting feeling that erupts in her stomach. Must he always tickle her to get her out of bed?

"Don't you dare Killian Jones." She says firmly, rising from the sanctuary of her blankets into the cold of the morning air, distancing herself from his skilled fingers. He smiles at her, wide and toothy and she feels the pirate in him take form as he bites his lip. He moves swiftly, grabbing her before she can comprehend an escape route.

He has her pinned to the bed, his hands dance wildly across her bare torso. He playfully nibbles at her ear as his hands work down to her thighs, and god she should have known to wear pants to bed. Her hands flail in a miserable attempt to rid him from her, she is gasping for air, her legs are uselessly anchored beneath his.

"Killian!" She gasps, as she cranes her neck back, her fingers digging into his toned back. He stops abruptly, and she feels her whole body prickling in the wake of his tickle attack.

(Sometimes she is more than sure that her 300 year old Killian Jones is nothing more than a little boy trapped in a very good looking older man's body.) Her chest is pounding when her body finally settles, a few lingering tingles travel up her arms from where he is still gripping her. He lowers himself, his blue eyes navigating over the details of her face.

He presses his lips to hers, and she feels the heat radiate from his chest as their breath melds together. She freezes when she recognizes the flavor lingering on his tongue. She pulls back from the kiss, his gaze looks to her's for the fault in his actions.

"Cinnamon?" She asks delicately.

"Well love, it seems your adoration for that spice has rubbed off on me."

She moves towards him again, hovering her mouth over his.

"I love you." She whispers, sealing the declaration with a kiss.

She pulls back again, and watches his breath catch in his throat. Watches as his eyes search hers for any regret in the revelation that had just spilled from her lips. She sees him catch up to what has happened, and watches his face return to the sickeningly sweet, flirty innuendo bearing pirate that she very much loves.

"If I knew that winning your heart simply required a fondness for that strange spice I would have had you years ago."

"It's not only that." She says with a slight slap to his chest, as she attempts to hide her blush. "It's…everything." She finishes lamely.

"I'm sure my dashing good looks are apart of the 'everything' that you speak of?" He says, as he buries his face into her neck.

"Yes, you idiot." She says with a laugh as she rubs his back affectionately. He heaves and she can feel the smile on his lips against her skin.

"You wound me with such words, Swan. I'm no idiot." He replies with a pout. She rolls her eyes and shoves him off her.

"I have to go to work." Time has fled from her, (it always moved so swiftly when she was around Killian), and she has to rush to get ready.

She slips out of their (yes, their) bedroom when she hears him yell,

"Love you too!"

(She knew all along that he did.)

(Her love affair with sweets was once again revitalized.)

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