"I talked; you walked away."

He had that look in his eyes. The one that told her that he was weighing his options.

Let her be?

Push?

Distract?

It was a look that was easy for Emma to read (he'd been wearing it since the moment she met him). Whatever it was cooking up in his exquisitely clever mind, she knew that she wasn't going to like it. In fact, Emma was going to continue to revel in her state of denial curled up on the Captain's bunk with her blanket covered legs holding up the propped open book. The text was beginning to blur under her exhaustion no matter how fascinating the adventures of a red handed female pirate were.

"Love," his voice echoed in the silence.

Here we go. Emma reluctantly looked up at his form towering over her with a knee propped against the bunk. Without his leather jacket, she was able to fully admire his vest clad chest and paisley sleeved arms. Only man in all the realms who could pull that one off.

"Sweetheart," he began tentatively (which only inspired Emma to bite back a groan in the shadow of an impending argument).

"I thought you were going to make me a hot cocoa?" she asked trying to divert the conversation. Killian reaching back to his desk with a deft hand to grab the ancient looking mug resting innocently against the hardwood surface.

"One hot chocolate topped with your preferred whipping cream and cinnamon spice," he announced with a flourish of his hook while depositing the hot beverage in her waiting hands.

"You're the best."

"Aye, that I am." He answered her with a cheeky grin while maneuvering himself to a seated position against the pillow-less shelf the acted as a headboard. "I'm afraid, however my darling, that you have commandeered all of my pillows."

Emma only barely hid the grin behind the mug of her favorite drink. "Well, you need better pillows."

"Granny you mean," he answered.

She looked over the rim of the mug with a raised eyebrow.

He answered her eyebrow with his own infamous one. "I took those pillow's from the good lady Granny's inn when my ship was returned."

"You stole pillows from Granny?" She asked.

"I simply acquired them from her establishment." The look of innocence only went so far on his face.

"The ones you stole," she reiterated.

"Pirate," he said with a casual shrug and leaning across the bed to kiss her forehead. The casual intimacy she had with him was surprisingly easy to get used to, as if they just had fallen into it or if it had been a lifelong practice. Brushes against skin and lips, a hand to hold (sometimes a hook), arms that held her, gentle touches that often turned into touches packed with lust, all these things were just icing on the cake for having a man who understood her, supported her, and…. well that other thing that Emma was still stubbornly not acknowledging.

It also didn't hurt that she had been insanely attracted to him ever since the time between pulling him out from a pile of corpses to the moment she made a deal with a giant. Seriously, no one should look that good dressed in rags and surrounded by death. Damn him.

"I think it's time we talked about it," Killian announced almost suddenly when he positioned himself on the bed next to her left. His hand rested warmly on her jean clad thigh giving her a gentle squeeze when he finished re-settling on the bed.

"About what?" Emma asked knowing that he would see right through her act. The past couple of nights she had successfully distracted him with either exhaustion or other nocturnal activities while she stayed with him on the Jolly Roger.

"Come now, Swan," he said, "don't play that game."

"Killian," she all but whined. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Your parents-" he trailed off when she tensed up next to him.

"Hook," this time her voice was firm. The Emma of the past rearing its ugly head as he tried to push her.

"Emma," his voice was gentle. "This cannot go on forever. Eventually you and your parents-"

"Stop," her voice was just as firm as it had been a moment before, but this time she removed herself from the cocoon of warmth that he and his bed provided. The mug he had so proudly presented to her minutes before made a solid thunk on his desk when she deposited it.

"They are your parents," he continued while his slid off the edge of the bed trying to follow her only to miss her when she veered right towards the door that led to a corridor linking the underbelly of the ship together. "They love you, Swan, and they have always only wanted what was best for you."

Emma tried in vain to get away from him. She spent so much time in the past running from him, but in the past couple of months she had gotten so used to staying put and sometimes in fact almost running towards him like she had in the past couple of days after her parents revealed their true natures to her. Running from Killian had become her common mode of operation almost from the moment she met him, but she had never really succeeded getting completely away from him. Emma reached out and adoringly skimmed her fingertips along the wooden wall created by the hull of the Jolly, knowing full well that her pirate boyfriend was still following her. Finally getting the picture, Killian clearly realized that silence was the best answer, but his stubborn self was probably already composing a lyrical speech for her benefit whenever she stopped moving away from him.

From corridor to crew quarters, from galley to the stairs that led them above deck, Killian followed her quietly at a distance. This was still Emma Swan. No matter how many walls he clamored over and successfully tore down, the woman would always guard herself in these situations. The big difference of now versus the past, is that Killian knew she would eventually stop running. She was only trying to physically run from him because he was trying to bring up the topic that she had successfully outmaneuvered the past 48 hours.

Killian's silent chase finally came to a slow stall when his love stopped at the bow of the ship that was angled out towards the Atlantic. Standing only a few feet away from her hunched over form, the old pirate waited for her next move.

A scrunch of her shoulders and a deep sigh, signaled him it wouldn't be long until she crumbled.

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered out to the sea.

"Fine," he stepped up closer to her at the rail. "We don't have to right now."

"That's it?"

"What's it, lass?"

"You done?" she turned that fiery emerald gaze at him. "You seemed pretty determined to get me to talk."

"Your flight from my cabin has now convinced me of the error of my timing," he explained simply.

After eyeing him for a moment under her long lashes, Emma stepped closer to his person. Not one to ignore an Emma Swan invitation as he saw it, Killian wrapped his arms around her pulling her tightly against his chest. The muscles that made up her beautiful body were coiled in tension even when held in his arms. Killian removed his right arm so that his hand could brush away and gather her long blonde hair over one shoulder so that his fingers could rub the skin on the back of her neck. These months of increasing familiarity with her had taught him a few tricks on calming and comforting her (just as she found his secret pathway to easing him with a gentle brush of her fingertips on the skin of his face). His Swan let out a low moan when Killian applied more pressure to her neck.

"Are you done running?" he whispered into the blonde hair on his beloved's head.

"You done with the nagging?" she retorted quickly.

Not bothering to hide the indignant sound in the back of his throat, Killian angled her body so that he could look into her eyes. "I do not nag."

"Fine," a wry smile graced her face, "but you're really good at getting under my skin."

"Oh?" He knew his smile had turned salacious enough when the twinkle in her eyes turned playful. "Skin you say?"

"You know what I meant," she said, clearly struggling at keeping her voice even as he fully turned her and pressed his body fully against hers.

"I think," he emphasized his words with his hand that had returned to back of her neck. "That you, my darling, are way too tense for such a fine night as this."

"And what is the Captain suggesting?" She teased, tilting her head back to see him.

It was hard to keep his train of thought when she looked at him like that. Cheeks flushed despite the cold, eyes reflecting the clear night sky, hair windswept and tousled like…. "Well, Swan," he punctuated her name with a kiss on one of her ideal cheekbones while trying to focus in the moment. "This Captain thinks we should return below deck so I can put my skillful hand and hook, as you so called them, to good use."

"I did not…" her mouth dropped open and then started to curl up on the edges with a smile. "You're taking it out of context."

"What do you say, love? These muscles of yours are begging, literally dripping in the need of respite."

"You are out of control," she laughed. "Seriously. Stop."

"Stop?" He turned on the full force of the pout that he knew would make her cave into him while squeezing her body even closer to him. "Stop what? Searching for ways to please you?"

"You are being," she squeezed him to her with a strength that equal his. "A scoundrel." She rubbed her nose against his. "A pain in my ass." He felt a hand drift low on his back, her long fingers teasing the edge of his trousers. "A ridiculous tease of a pirate."

"A tease? Who are you calling a tease?" He pulled her away from the rail back the way they had come. "I'll show you just how far from a tease I am. We cannot have word get out that Captain Hook does not fulfill his promises."

"You promised skillful," she reminded him as their boot clad feet echoed in tandem on the deck of the Jolly.

"Your words, Swan, not mine," he said while keeping her body firmly close to his delighting in the sound of his lass' laugh in what felt like the first time in days.

A/N: Currently, still trying to figure out their inner voices.