Disclaimer: I own nothing aside from exhaustion from staying up all night writing fanfiction.


It happened slowly, as the most important developments in Emma's life tend to. They fell into a rhythm, into an easy routine. Domesticity came surprisingly natural. If he cooked, she did the dishes. If she bought groceries, he did the laundry. If she helped Henry with his homework, he would challenge the boy to video games when said homework was done. No discussion was necessary. They just knew what to do like they had been doing this forever.

She never officially asked him to move in. Killian just came over for dinner one night and never left. Again, no discussion was needed and no one commented on it; it was like he had been there since the beginning. He had become a permanent fixture in their lives. They all knew.

Soon the loft looked less hers and more theirs. His few belongings made their way into a dresser drawer of their very own. The painting he had "rescued" from a neighbor's curbside hung on their bedroom wall…until she took it down…until he put it up in the bathroom...until she took it down again...until he hung it back in its original spot in the bedroom where it hangs today, much to her chagrin. The couch they had picked out together furnishes the living room after an especially intense card game turned physical and the boys broke the previous one. The ugly porcelain cat sculpture that had mysteriously shown up on their doorstep graced a shelf in the entryway. Killian is convinced David left it as a joke, although the latter has yet to admit it. The joke backfired, however, as the cat became a beloved keepsake and discussion piece.

Anyone else would look around the loft and see stuff, but Emma sees memories. She sees a home. She had thrown out the cardboard box that had once contained her life. She was here to stay.

There was nothing special or out of the ordinary this Tuesday night that drew these thoughts to the forefront of her mind. Their routine continued as easily as it had every night for the past several weeks. She watched as her two boys sat at the table, Henry attempting to complete his history project, Killian offering comedic distraction. Her fingers were starting to prune in the dishwater as she paused to watch them. She was happy. Despite the never-ending threats that accompanied living the lives of fairytale characters, they felt like a normal family. They could have this after all. She glanced at the porcelain cat on the shelf and smiled.

She was brought out of her musing by Killian joining her at the sink, towel in hand, as he had many times before.

"Something on your mind, love?" he asked while drying a plate.

"Marry me," she stated without preamble.

A raised eyebrow and smirk graced his features. "Shouldn't that declaration be accompanied by flowers and candles in some overly romantic gesture?"

"Killian, I'm serious. Tomorrow. Let's get married tomorrow." She knew this came out of left field as they had never discussed marriage before, but as it has gone for most of their relationship, discussion was unnecessary. They both wanted this. They both just knew. Why wait for a happy ending to come to you when you could make your own right now?

Reading her face as he always had, he saw no trace of doubt. Only love.

"Emma Swan, I would have married you on that beanstalk, from the very beginning."

Taking his face in her soapy hands, she kissed him softly, as she had a hundred times before.

"Good."