It's been three months now - three months of dress fittings and realm-change allergies and exploring "her" land - and as they walk through the knee-high grass, sun on their faces, her horse's lead in one hand and Killian's right hand in the other – Emma realizes this is one of the first times she has felt truly at peace. Like it might just be alright that she is here, like maybe she was always meant for here.
Mostly because the grass is so very green and not as prickly as it was just a month earlier and the sun is finally starting to actually warm her bones and not just make her squint from her balcony. Admittedly, the comforting weight of Killian's hand, the calloused palm pressed to hers and the rough thumb running over her skin might be a contributing factor as well but she tries not to go there when that inner peace of hers is already so fragile.
And then she sees her father heading towards them on his horse and immediately pulls her hand away. Her stomach twists itself into a pretzel in literal seconds and her heart squeezes in a way that cannot possibly be harmless for her anatomy.
Great, her own organs are trying to punish her for being such a royal bitch.
But it's the way Killian puts an extra foot between them and the way he clenches his now empty hand into a fist at his thigh that makes her eyes sting worse than the allergy she had throughout the whole first month of being Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest.
And it's not- That is she doesn't mean to...
Emma sighs under her breath and tries to offer her father a smile as he jumps off his horse and approaches them in eager strides.
Yeah, she is definitely in the minority on not being happy to be back in the Enchanted Forest.
"Hey, dad!"
"Your Highness."
Killian's gruff voice behind her is only the tiniest bit mocking. Though David's eyeroll at the title is probably more insulting to the crown than any sarcasm the pirate might infuse it with.
His highness seems to have little interest in Emma - pecking her on the cheek distractedly before he claps an arm over Killian's shoulders and tells him he needs a second opinion on something that Emma has tuned out already. He is certainly not gonna need her third opinion so whatever.
Instead she focuses on the way Killian willingly follows and resolutely doesn't glance back at her.
It makes her ache in places newly reawakened and crave things she has only recently started to hope might actually happen to her.
/
Alright, alright, lets rewind a bit.
It's not that she hates the Enchanted Forest. She just hates the idea of being stuck in it for the remainder of her life. And it doesn't help that her entire first month as princess of said forest is spent arguing.
She argues with her mom about coronation ceremonies (unnecessary), welcome home balls (preposterous) and princess dresscode (is she fucking serious?). She argues with her dad about arguing with her mom (which just brews more tension because then Hook argues with David for arguing with her and then David gets snappy at Hook and then she gets snappy at David and ugh). She argues with Neal about his rightful place which, contrary to his very unpopular belief, is not beside her as prince consort or some such bullshit (the nerve!). She argues with Henry about visiting Neal in Rumple's freaking castle (seriously, what's up with Neal's obsession with castles now?). She argues with Regina over how long Henry spends in her castle versus theirs (and Emma for one doesn't even want to have a freaking castle). She argues with Hook mostly because she is so defensive from arguing with everyone else and because he has decided to stay on his ship docked at the harbor and Emma doesn't like it because she also wants to sleep on a ship rather than in a freaking castle but mostly because she wants him to sleep wherever she is sleeping and coming to that particular realization only puts her more on edge and-
It's not that she hates the Enchanted Forest.
It's not. It can't be.
She is its bloody princess now.
/
"I almost miss Neverland."
It's April and there's pollen everywhere and her nose is pink and almost two times its normal size and it hurts every time she touches it.
Hook chuckles as he gives her a boost so she can straddle her horse and then turns around to get on his own black steed. And Emma does not check him out while his back is turned. Not really. It's just weird when he decides to go out without his long coat and she can see exactly how leathery his leather pants are and how trim his waist and how cool vests apparently look when they are worn by swaggering pirates and not douchy guys in overpriced bars trying to get her up to their hotel room.
"You don't mean that, darling."
He looks at her and tilts his head in question, nudging his horse ahead as soon as she gives him a determined nod.
Her sword skills are coming along brilliantly according to prince and pirate alike, her archery – not so much. Her riding though. That's the one Emma really wants to get the hang of. A couple of weeks of lessons have already proven that she is hardly a natural but while Henry seemed a bit miffed about that (bloody kid galloping away before anyone could even have a proper heart attack over it) and David – a lot less invested than he is in her swordsmanship, Hook has been patiently confident that if she so wishes, she can develop into an excellent rider.
The fact that riding brings with it the notion of constant motion and the possibility of timely escapes has not slipped her attention but oh, well.
"Give me Neverland minus the evil teenagers and I'm there."
Hook makes sure they are moving side by side and lets her set the pace. To riding and conversation alike.
"I'd take a campsite over those stone walls any day."
"Surely the bedchambers of the princess are satisfactory."
Emma sighs and shimmies her shoulders a little, as if willing the wave of guilt to slide off her. She has seen much much worse than her current bedroom. Honestly, she has probably never seen better, not in the lavishness department at least. And she has the strong notion that Killian Jones has rarely slept in the most comfortable of conditions either. It's just-
"Cold?"
Hook looks at her, eyebrows furrowed, and takes a better hold of his lead.
"We could always head back, Swan."
"What? Why?"
"If you are cold."
"Oh. No. No, I... I don't mean now. I meant my..."
She makes the face she always makes when she has to dig into the Enchanted Forest dictionary.
"...bedchambers."
"They are cold?"
Now he looks genuinely concerned and somehow indignant and Emma is somewhere between frustrated and touched.
"No. No. Not literally cold. Just... everything is stone. And everything is so big. Spacious. I don't know... I'm not used to so much space. And I'm finding..."
Her horse takes the liberty of turning right without Emma's guidance but she decides to go with it. Hook follows with ease over the slight hill and towards the nearby river.
"You were saying, love?"
She was going to drop it. She was. But... well, she wants to tell someone. Truthfully, she mostly wants to tell him.
Neverland taught her, a lot of the time despite herself, that Killian Jones will rarely fail to listen to her and support her. And then – on a morning about a week after they'd come back to the Enchanted Forest to avoid Pan's curse, when she hadn't seen him for a couple of days and had almost steeled herself to the fact that he'd reassembled his crew and taken the Jolly to wherever his heart desired – he strolled into the castle's gardens and asked if her or David would care to give him a bit of exercise, his sword was getting rusty or whatever.
Yeah, Emma is pretty confident that was the moment she decided that Captain Hook was indeed for real. That he wasn't going to just up and leave, he was... he would be there when she needed someone to spar with or ride with or talk to or... just someone. Someone who she could count on to have her back.
"It's just not how I pictured home."
Or just someone to whine to.
"Ah... well, perhaps you just need a bit longer. Perhaps you are focusing on the wrong things."
"No, I know. I'm happy to learn about "where I come from" and see Henry discover so many different things for the first time. I'm glad to have him and my parents and you. I just..."
Emma pretends not to see how Hook's head whips around when she adds him to the list. And she tries not to smile because it's not really something she is happy about – this habit of his to never expect anything – not even a reward or praise but mere acknowledgement of his presence and steadfastness. And she knows her own avoidance of this, her trouble with believing in anybody's steadfastness, hasn't helped matters.
"I always pictured it a bit… smaller, cozier. Warmer…"
She shakes her head, remembering a whole lot more than she particularly cares to about how and how often she pictured home in her first years on earth. She knows that little girl would cry tears of joy at the mere thought of having what she now has. It's just…
She is starting to think that having a home doesn't necessarily mean you feel like you have found your place.
"Why, princess, you know the captain's quarters are always open to you. Cozy, warm, intimate..."
If she wasn't holding her lead with both hands, she would've definitely punched him in the shoulder for that one. She can practically hear the leer. But then again, one of the very reasons she shares with Hook is because he knows exactly how deep to dig before he draws back and lets her breathe.
He rides ahead of her and turns his horse around to face hers and Emma watches the smirk morph into concentration and care as he stops in front of the little stream and asks if she is good to cross it.
Emma bypasses him and urges her horse over the water, feeling the rush of her tiny success and treating herself to a smug look at the man behind her.
/
So life at the Enchanted Forest gets progressively less frustrating once her allergies seem to have given up on killing her. And then it gets progressively more frustrating once her mother decides to give killing her patience a chance.
(It certainly doesn't help that a month and two weeks into being Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest she locks lips with Captain Hook for the second time in her life. And definitely not for the last.)
/
And here she is now.
"And I think that's where Duke Kensigton still resides."
"A duke, really? Aren't you supposed to be paging only through the prince pages?"
Her mother gives her a hard look that Emma thinks she doesn't deserve one bit. She is the one being auctioned off as a piece of royal art.
Alright, alright. Maybe she is being overdramatic, maybe her parents haven't put a price on her hand and started ushering princes to the open house. But over the last month or so her mother has been going over all the neighbouring and far off kingdoms with Emma and making her take note of any eligible royalty.
"Emma, the title is not everything. You are over thirty, with a son, and-"
Emma's jaw literally drops.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, I'm only... I mean-"
She doesn't really let her finish.
/
"The nerve! As if I'm not good enough for the darling princes of the realm! As if I'm the one who should chase after them and make myself as appealing as possible! As if I'd consider any of them!"
At first when she'd started recounting her afternoon with her mother Killian seemed uncomfortable. Twitchy the way he always got when she talked about her mom's 'prince hunting'. The way that made Emma feel all giddy deep, deep where no one could see. Much like the way his eyes flashed when she quoted her mother word for word.
Now, however, he looks plain amused and Emma didn't skip dinner with her parents and Henry just to get sand in all the folds of her damn dress and amuse him.
Well, maybe a little bit. After all her mother's insistence on dresses, it feels good to put one on just so she can sneak out in it, meet a pirate captain in it, ruin it with sand and sea spray.
"Darling... I find myself hard pressed to procure an excuse for your mother. But seeing how ridiculous she is being, should you really be getting so worked up about this?"
"She might as well tell me they'd send me out to pasture, if I end the year without finding a husband."
"And you are so incensed because you share that concern?"
"What?!"
"Merely a question, lass."
"Yeah? You are one to talk about age!"
"I have not referred to your age at all. Merely to your desire to get yourself a princeling."
"I don't have any! What are you on about?"
"I fail to see why you'd be so affected if-"
"You like me, don't you?"
/
Does he like Emma Swan?
Killian looks up to where she has jumped to her feet and is now towering over him, the moon at her back, making her hair almost glow, her hands planted firmly at her waist.
He loathes to resort to clichés but she is nothing if not a vengeful angel.
"A bit of an understatement but, yes, Swan. As I have mentioned before, I quite fancy you occasionally."
She might blush a little, it might be his wishful thinking. But then she huffs and throws her arms in a gesture of 'there you have it' before plopping back down on the beach beside him.
"Exactly! I'm good enough for you but I'm not good enough for some stuffy royal asshole? Fuck that."
"First of all love, you are more than good enough for me. You are most certainly too good for the likes of me. Too good for any prince in this realm or any other as well. But that, sadly, does not mean that good for nothing pirates are entitled to the same things that princes are."
"And a good thing as well."
Killian turns around and realizes exactly how close she is now. How very, very-
And then her lips are at the corner of his mouth. Their stunning gentleness at a complete contrast with the seductive edge in her voice.
He manages to capture her mouth properly eventually, wrapping an arm around his princess so he can drag her into his lap. She settles more than willingly, the uncountable layers of her skirts billowing around them both.
Gods, he loves the texture of the silk wrapped around her waist and laments his inability to hold it tight and caress her face as the same time.
They part slowly, unwillingly. And come back once, twice, three times before she settles with her right arm around his back and her nose digging for treasure somewhere around his collarbone.
"You have like… skills and you've seen so many things. And you have courage and honour. You wouldn't want just anyone."
His fingers clamp down on her waist even harder. For quite some time now Killian has wanted precious else but to have Emma realize that he could be a man of honour again. But not even in his wildest fantasies has he imagined her saying it out loud.
"No, I wouldn't."
He turns to kiss her hair and lets himself go where he rarely dares and rest his cheek on her head.
"Exactly. So excuse me, if I don't feel the need to live up to the expectations of some guys in thighs that grew up with one silver spoon down their throat and another up their ass."
Killian laughs against her, hard enough that she grips him tighter just to keep from toppling into the sand.
"No, love, I cannot imagine you having to prove yourself to anyone."
She doesn't reply, just tucks herself further into him and lets her hand wander over the exposed parts of his chest.
"I do want to... I... I'm sorry about not telling anyone-"
"There are no expectations you need to worry about when it comes to me, love."
"Well, there should be."
She pulls back, almost indignant and he can't help but chuckle as he insistently draws her back to him, making her face him fully so he can kiss her brow and tamper her frown.
"You should... want things."
"Oh, I want plenty, Swan."
He dips his mouth to her generous cleavage and grins at the hybrid between a sigh and a moan she lets out.
"But I have learnt not to expect."
He doesn't mean for that to deter him from his task. Except it's hard not to be deterred when the princess grabs a fistful of his hair and drags him up to face her - something burning in her eyes.
"Well, unlearn! I'm... I'm not gonna keep this- I just..."
He frowns at the way she lowers her eyes. It's such a non-Emma thing to do and he doesn't want to make her feel like he's another responsibility she doesn't know how to juggle. No matter how much it stings to never get to spend a whole night with her – in his cabin, in her bed. Gods, in her bed. That's definitely not a thing he can see himself learning to expect.
"Emma, it's alright-"
"It's not. It's really…"
She gets to her feet bloody quick for a woman with so much fabric on her.
"I don't want to do this anymore."
His heart comes to a hold for a solid few seconds before it flies into a wild gallop after her.
"Swan, wait, we don't have to-"
"No. No, we really do."
"Emma, please-"
Bloody hell, he is going to beg, isn't he?
"It- It should've never gone on for so long."
She looks guilty and yet-
Killian lets out a sigh and looks at his feet, clenching his teeth and his hand and his bloody toes, just so he wouldn't reach out for her.
He has seen determination on Emma Swan before. He knows there is nothing and no one that can stop her once she has decided what is the right thing to do.
And he is obviously not the right thing anymore. If he ever was.
So he keeps staring at his feet even as he sees her hand maybe, almost reach towards him. He keeps staring because she is moving away before he can look up. He keeps staring because if he looks at her, he'd run after her and if he runs after her, he will lose whatever friendship or acquaintance she might still allow him after tonight. If he could just keep staring at his feet, maybe he doesn't have to recognize the fact that she is gone.
/
It's not okay. It's anything but ok. She knows it the second he says he knows not to expect anything.
And Emma doesn't want to keep doing this. She doesn't want Killian to expect nothing from her when she expects everything from him.
She expects him to sit on the cold sand and strain to see her in the darkness, she expects him to listen to her bitch about her mother's nostalgia over royal bullshit and Regina's demands over Henry's time. She expects him to take her to his bed and pledge his body and soul to her but then let her slip away into the darkness. She expects him to let her steal his books and snuggle in his favourite chair and wear his shirts but never set foot in her rooms or have breakfast with her. She expects him to choose her and she expects him to stay. And yet she hasn't told a single soul that she has chosen him and she slips away every single time.
And she should've never let this happen and she certainly should've never let it happen for so long but hell, Killian made it so easy. With his constant presence but unassuming distance. With his strong feelings but teasing words. With his sudden invasions but quick retreats from her space. With his tense shoulders but daring words about letting her mother have her fun and maybe giving royalty a twirl.
It's probably because she was always the one testing him and doubting him at first, that she failed to realize he was the one testing her now. Probably without even realizing it. He was the one doubting that-
No, Emma is done with all that.
/
"Emma, that's..."
She supposes a better person would take pity on her mother. But Emma has been all determination and very little sympathy since she left Killian on that beach.
She went a dozen rounds with herself on whether she should've asked him to come with her. But this was her mess to fix. Her secret that should've never been a secret to pull into the light. Once she is content with herself, she hopes he will be too.
"I know you and Hook have... grown close. And there's... That's completely alright, of course. But you are very much a... a public figure now. More than that really. You are the face of this kingdom and-"
"No, you are the face of this kingdom. I'm just the ex-sheriff that got dragged along when my son's great-grandfather decided to curse us all."
"Emma-"
She looks at her father and can read the request in his eyes but she can't cave. She has been caving for months and she is afraid she might just bend herself beyond recognition, if she keeps going like that. She feels like she might just snap and break completely, if Killian wakes up one morning and realizes he doesn't want to be the princess's dirty little secret anymore.
The very phrase makes her insides turn over and she steels her expression further.
If nothing else, David at least doesn't look surprised.
"I want to be a part of this. I do. But I can't... I can't keep trying to fit some princess-y shoes I've never worn-"
"But you can learn-"
"But I don't want to learn, Mary Margaret!"
She watches her mother flinch back and feels a spike of guilt. Nobody calls her that here. And Emma... she has made a genuine effort to call them 'mom' and 'dad' since Neverland. But that's just it, it still requires effort.
"Look, I just- Can't I just be a part of this in my own way? I like horse-riding, I don't like ball planning. I'd like to explore the lands with you but I am not gonna bat my eyelashes at visiting royalty."
Snow opens her mouth to protest but Emma keeps going.
"I can't be... all of that. I don't want to. And if you can't accept that..."
Then she doesn't know. She doesn't want to just up and quit but-
"Of course, we don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."
David gives Snow a look and they both watch the struggle play out on the queen's face.
"I just want to share all of this with you, Emma."
"Well, maybe it's ok, if you share just some of it with me. And then some of the rest with the next one."
She gestures to Snow's expanding belly and her future brother or sister with an encouraging smile. She knows she won't be feeling any misplaced jealousy over them getting the whole royal experience.
Her mother sighs the way only a person who has the weight of an entire kingdom and a strong-minded child on them can.
"We can slow down. Go one step at a time. We did overwhelm you a bit, didn't we?"
"Just a bit," Emma smiles, then takes a deep breath and looks each of her parents in the eye. "But Killian is non-negotiable."
"Sweetheart, I know he has proven himself a lot but... You are the princess and he is a notorious pirate and-"
"And this is me being nice enough to give you a heads up that the princess will be seen setting sail for a weekend getaway with the notorious pirate."
The mix of pride and abject horror on her father's face makes her laugh just enough to break the rest of the tension.
"And I don't think the bandit princess should be one to talk."
"But I was never-"
"A villain. Yes, I know. Neither is Killian. Not for some time now. Look, as I said, this is the non-negotiable part. We can argue over how many days of the week I have to spend in a dress, that's fine. We are not arguing over how many days I can spend with Killian."
"I'm assuming that would be every."
"Hopefully."
She says it in part to just watch David sputter. But it's not like she hasn't been seeing Killian almost every day anyway, he might just join her for breakfast more from now on.
Hopefully.
She doesn't know how he will take to the castle walls she herself was lamenting just days ago. But then again, she is serious about the weekend getaways. It sounds like a fair trade to her.
"Is there anything we can actually say to all of this?" Snow asks, a heavy furrow still between her brows.
"Like I said, just giving you a heads up. And the card blanche to cancel the prince hunting."
"I was not-"
"Yeah, you were."
"I thought finding love might make it easier for you to be here, Emma. That's all."
"Well... it did."
She watches her mother draw back a bit, give her a look, then a sniffle and then a whole lot of royal lace and Snow's arms are around Emma.
/
It's way past midnight before she gets back to the docks and makes her way onto the Jolly Roger. But she has this wonderful sense of freedom fluttering around her like feathers and she wants to share it with someone. Truthfully, she mostly wants to share it with him.
Telling Killian is supposed to be the easy part, the happy part. Except when she gets down to the captain's quarters the smell of rum is so strong in the air that she doesn't have any illusions about him being passed out on his desk from too much reading. At least he didn't leave a candle burning or she would've never let him hear the end of it.
So Emma sighs and as her excitement slowly settles down she feels the exhaustion of riding the distance between the castle and the docks three times in only so many hours. So she pulls the blankets to the side and blesses the small space that is Killian's cabin which affords her to coax him from his desk and the few steps to the bed with only some effort. He barely registers the movement but buries his head half-under his pillow the second he is horizontal. Emma huffs and shakes her head.
Then she realizes he might have thought her mission didn't go so well - hence the self-imposed unconsciousness - and she almost shakes him awake to tell him that she is here, that she is going to stay. But then again, Emma herself always prefers solid proof to pretty promises so why should she tell him when she can show him.
She takes off his boots and then her own and finally lets the weight of her dress and the sand accumulated in it drop to the floor and she crawls into bed in her silvery chemise.
She molds her body against his back and considers ridding him of his shirt but then just pulls it to the side enough that she can undo the buckles on his brace and pull it off.
Killian mumbles something in his sleep but Emma can barely hear him, let alone understand him, so she just brushes her lips against the deep indents left on his skin from the leather, wraps her arm around his waist and hums contently at the way he presses back into her warmth.
/
He wakes up warmer than he can remember being in years, centuries maybe. The first thing that comes through is the pair of arms low around his waist. Then the tickling sensation of hair not his own over his heart. But the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the open and almost-empty bottle on his desk and Killian squeezes his eyes shut again, waiting for all the rest to disappear.
Only it doesn't. It moves.
He feels a nose brush against his nipple and his eyes fly open and this time he looks down to see what can only be Emma's head of wildly tangled blonde locks, spread over his chest.
He recalls with painful clarity that this is not a sight he expected to see again after last night. And certainly not so soon. He sat down, opened a bottle of his finest rum and decided he was giving himself one night and one night only and then he was going after his princess.
He certainly didn't expect to find her in his bed.
But Killian Jones has lived too long and knows better than to waste such a gift. Be it a dream, a rum-induced hallucination, hell even a bloody curse, he was going to enjoy the feeling of Emma Swan in his arms for as long as it was bestowed on him.
So he lifts his arm, surprised to find it braceless, and hesitates for just a second before he brushes her hair away from the back of her neck with his stump. He kisses the newly exposed flesh and slowly runs his nose along her hairline.
Her puff of air tickling his ribs in one of the best feelings he has ever had wash over him.
"Shhh, more sleep."
Gods, he has never heard her voice like this – smudged with sleep, warm and deep, and rumbling into his own chest where she breathes against him. He is getting progressively worried that he poisoned himself last night. And progressively anxious that she will disappear into the morning light soon enough.
It makes his hand unconsciously tighten where it rests on her bare thigh.
"Ow. Killian-"
Emma unearths a hand from somewhere beneath him just to swat at him.
"What's happening, Swan?"
His voice sounds breathless to his own ears and apparently to Emma who is suddenly very awake and moving up and around so she can face him. He feels her warm palm on his cheek but the whole thing is still too bloody surreal.
"Killian. Hey, hey. Baby, look at me, breathe."
If anything she sounds as anxious as he feels and Killian tries to focus his eyes on hers and finally convinces his hand to loosen and move up her back in what's hopefully a reassuring caress and not just his fingers trembling over her spine.
"What… Why are you…" he clenches his teeth. "Are you here?"
"I'm here. Of course, I'm here."
Her answer is fast and sure and both of her hands are framing his face now and Killian tries to clear his mind. To distinguish dream from reality. It's always a task when he has Emma in his arms – both dream and reality.
"You've never been here."
She bites her lip and he can tell she wants to look away but forces herself not to – her eyes watering with the effort.
"I know. But I am now. Do you still want me to?"
"You said we were through."
He wants to just kiss away her frown and tell her to go back to sleep but he doesn't understand.
"What?"
And her own confusion is certainly not helping. But he takes refuge in the way she is holding on tight to his neck.
"Last night. You said it was over. I- I couldn't-"
And despite his worry, the softness and warmth of Emma was present and they were wrapped in the kind of sluggishness that only morning brings.
Until they are not. Until she pulls away – sharp and quick, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes are wide with horror and the cold air rushes between their bodies without waiting for permission.
"Oh God. Oh fuck. Fuck."
"Emma-"
He rises after her, his hand hesitating millimeters from her shoulder because he isn't sure but she is in pain and-
"No. No, Killian. No! I-"
Her hand closes around his and she pulls at him until they are flush against each other again and their lips clash together. He can feel the stale taste of rum on his own tongue but it doesn't seem to slow her down.
"I didn't-"
She pulls away to start again but seems to think better of it and presses her forehead back to his, her nose brushing his and he can feel the hand that's in his hair trembling slightly.
"I told my parents."
"What?"
He can't really breathe with her glued to him like that. Then he thinks it's the only way he can breathe.
"I went to tell my parents. Last night. About us. To tell them about us."
It sounds exactly like something he made up in his head.
"You said-"
"I said I was done hiding. I meant I was done hiding."
"Oh."
He doesn't really know what else to say. Emma is in his arms, in his bed, she slept in his bed and she doesn't want to keep them a secret. What the hell does a person say when they get everything they want?
"Thank you."
He cringes. It made more sense in his head. And if anything it seems to upset her.
"You don't have to- I'm sorry. I'm sorry this was a thing that needed fixing. But I… I tried to fix it."
He finally manages to shake off the remaining doubts about the tangibility of this moment. And he finally smiles.
"It's alright. It's alright, Swan. I knew you just needed some time to fully come around."
She opens her mouth to argue and he doesn't want to bloody argue so he kisses her instead. His hand smooths her tangled hair and his left arm wraps around her to pull her back onto the pillows with him.
"So…"
"So I'm here. To stay."
He only realizes how hard he is grinning at her when he feels her finger in the corner of his mouth, tracing it sweetly.
"That sounds rather promising, love."
"Yeah? How about I told my parents we're sailing away for the weekend."
She is going to do permanent damage to his face.
"That sounds absolutely brilliant."
She hums, obviously pleased with herself.
"How about-" she starts off teasingly but then her eyes find his and Killian feels his breath back into his throat. "I love you. A lot."
His smile finally dissolves in the face of his awe.
"That… that sounds like something I have been trying very hard not to let slip around you."
Both her arms slide around him and he can literally feel her heart beating against his skin and she looks up at him – all expectation and anticipation.
Bloody hell, he has never even dared to dream Emma would anticipate his declaration of love.
"I love you. I love you beyond my capacity to express it, Swan."
She beams up at him and surges into his lips and Killian thinks she was right last night.
He is about to start expecting a whole lot. Mostly to have Emma Swan in his arms. Hopefully for the rest of their lives.