Wandering Fingers

Captain Swan. Emma can't seem to get enough of her pirate. [Post Season 3 finale]

CSCSCSCSCS

She reaches out for him under tables, purposefully sitting on his right side so she can thread her fingers into his, squeezing them in reassurance.

I'm back. He's back. We're safe.

The first time she did it he'd not as much jumped as turned to look at her with a surprised expression. Now it's become commonplace. If she doesn't reach for him, his hand comes after hers. Not that she minds, it's nice to know he craves the contact as much as she does.

Her favourite part is exploring the many callouses he's picked up over the years, her thumb stroking them as she commits each one to memory. It gets so she'd recognised his touch anywhere – not that she wouldn't already, his touch still sets off sparks deep within her.

She's noticed that he likes making patterns – or rather one specific pattern, again and again and again. She tried to figure it out the first few times but gave up because it always comes down to focusing on him or the conversation at hand. She still gets the odd look from Mary Margaret or Ruby, but she's too happy to care.

It's not till a week later she recognises that he's tracing letters, his fingers warm to the touch. It takes another week before she is able to spell out the message.

I love you.

But instead of running away she only squeezes him back, returning the sentiment in her own way.

If he notices he doesn't show it, but after that she notices his shoulders are much more relaxed.

In fact, she becomes more at ease as well. She begins reaching out for him more, squeezing his shoulder or smacking him in the arm. She's even ventured up to his face, her finger removing the ketchup from the corner of his lips or even reaching around or squeezing his neck in a gentle massage.

For his part his hand never leaves the small of her back any time they exit a building or a room or take the stairs. She likes knowing it's there and that he's right behind her and it's become so she doesn't remember a time before this.

Eventually she even finds her way into his pockets, fingers searching as she empties them out to do laundry. But the good captain's pockets only ever carry one thing, an old folded note bearing the words: Find Emma Swan.

When she asks him what that is, he tells her, "My insurance policy in case I ever get lost, or worse, forget."

She doesn't know what brings the smile to her face faster; her gut telling her it's the truth or the matter-of-fact tone in his voice.

That night she traces the patterns into his hand and he squeezes back in return.

Soon her hands are exploring every part of him in touches long and short. Her hands snake around his waist in the mornings, holding him close as she inhales his scent and rests her cheek on his back. He rubs her arms and brings her hand to his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

Her knuckles graze his chest each morning as she buttons up his shirts. Looking at the glint in his eye it's clear that this is why he doesn't wear an undershirt. A fact she is glad of because it makes it one less layer at night.

Her fingers steal across his chest in bed. Once they reach the other side she pulls him closer to her, tucking herself into the space in his side. Once she's done he places a kiss on her forehead, instead of whispering goodnight (he once told her that every night's a good night because she's there). Sometimes when she can't sleep so she traces a new set of patterns on his chest.

I'm yours.

One night he traces back a new set of his own. But it doesn't take her long to decode what he's saying.

As you wish.

CSCSCSCSCS

A/N: I needed to write this down before I returned to some of my other fics. Consider this a brief fic-cation. Alright, back to work so I can post another chapter of Forever and a Day today.

As usual, if you have any thoughts, comments, questions or concerns, send them my way. If you liked this, check out my other stuff on tumblr, or AO3. Thanks for reading!