He doesn't look up right away when she comes out but his lips twitch with the memory of another such night – just the two of them on a table in front of Granny's with the chilly air tingeing her cheeks a light pink. Only this time, when she reaches the table he is sitting at (the very same table), she grabs a chair and drags it as close to his as it can go.
He finally looks up when Emma plots down next to him and her knee bumps into his. And Killian just can't resist giving her a pointed, teasing look, eyebrow high on his forehead and a grin playing on the edges of his mouth.
She promptly rolls her eyes. The way he knew she would. The way that warms his heart.
"You know," she says with a pointed look of her own. "Being the guest of honour kind of includes being at the party."
Maybe they've spent too much time together (not that he thinks that possible) because he takes that as his cue to roll his eyes.
"Swan, I've been locked in there for hours, engaging in conversation with people I've never seen before and accepting embraces and fist-bumps from ones I barely know and listening to the widow Lucas explain how I seem to have been starved half to death and need to be properly fattened up again. A sentiment I cannot say I much appreciate since I've never been 'fat' to begin with."
Emma snorts and pretends to think about it long enough to draw an indignant huff from the pirate. One that makes her laugh in victory.
"I merely wanted a solitary moment and some fresh air."
"Oh," she says and there's that devilish little gleam in her eye. "Should I then-"
She makes to rise – slowly, theatrically, obviously having no intention to carry out the action to its completion. He puts an arm around her shoulders anyway and draws her even closer.
They are silent for a couple of minutes and Killian would be perfectly content to stay like this, exchanging body heat with his Swan and watching their breaths mingle in the crispy air. He would be, if it wasn't for the fact that he can almost hear Emma thinking and feel the slightest fidgeting. He is about to go ahead and ask when she speaks up.
"I think it's about time I gave this back to you."
Killian looks down at the same time that she raises her hand. The hand holding his ring. The ring that kept him alive for hundreds of years.
"Hell vacations and all, I think I'd feel much better, if you had it on you again," she gives him a hard look, yet he can still see the heartbreak underneath it, clear as the silver in her hand and it makes him ache for her the way he did the whole time they were separated (the admittedly short time they were separated because his Emma is one hell of a stubborn and determined woman).
He reaches over and taps the stone of the ring with his index finger, still considering whether or not he wants to take it back when she pulls it out of his reach. Killian looks her in the eyes, lifting a questioning eyebrow.
"You can have it back. On one condition."
She is the perfect combination of nervousness and that determination he was just thinking about and suddenly Killian wants his ring back very, very much. Just so that he can give her whatever it is that she wants for it.
"And what might that be?"
Emma glances down at the stone he just touched, biting lightly on her lip in a way that has his mind flying out of the window and straight into 'need to kiss Swan' mode. But just as he is starting to lean in she looks up and his breath backs in his throat.
She lifts the ring slightly, to help him along in connecting the dots. He doesn't need any help. Her face says it all – open and loving, happiness just waiting to spring, and that aching vulnerability, that honest question in her eyes
"So what do you say, pirate?" she tries for teasing but comes off the slightest bit shaky and he's not sure if she is even aware that she never asked the question.
Well, he intends to make damn sure before he opens his mouth.
"Aren't you supposed to be on one knee, Swan?"
She gives him an incredulous look but there's amusement in there too, amusement that she is trying very hard to push back as she huffs and pushes her chair back. Did he mention that she was a stubborn and determined lass?
The moment Emma gets out of her chair, about to drop on her bloody knee (and heavens, he loves this woman more than words can ever describe), he grabs her hand and pulls her towards him. She gasps lightly in surprise but comes willingly, legs spreading so she can drop on his lap.
Her cheeks are indeed tinged pink and her mouth is open in a breathless little 'o', eyes wide and shining and-
"Will you marry me, Killian Jones?"
And what is a man supposed to say when the woman of his dreams, the love of his life, his True Love, is in his arms, lips hovering just an inch from his, warm and soft and glowing with happiness and asking that question.
"Aye."