"Thank the gods you're alright," he chokes out, his cheek resting on the top of her head.
"Thank you," she tells him, her pale lips turning up at the corners. "If it hadn't been for you and David, I don't know what would have happened."
"Hopefully that's not something we'll ever have to find out." His voice is almost light, like he's trying to mask the situation with humor. But Emma knows him. She knows how much he's hurting right now; she can feel it in her chest, in the way he's cradling her, in the way his hand is trembling almost imperceptively as he rubs slow circles against her back. She aches. Not only is the process of thawing out physically painful, but the memory of hearing Killian's voice over the walkie talkie as him and David tried to find a way to save her hurts. She could almost feel his panic.
"I'm sorry I put you through that," she whispers, her voice thick.
He presses his lips to her hair lightly. "You did give me quite the scare, love."
Henry brings over Emma's mug of hot cocoa, carefully placing it in her hands. The temperature difference between the mug and her skin burns, but she's grateful for the warmth. "Thanks, kid," she says, offering him a weak smile.
He scratches at her head lightly, reassuringly (a gesture she realizes he must have picked up from her). "Anytime, Mom." He smiles and nods at Killian before returning to his place in the kitchen.
Emma vaguely thinks she should distance herself a little from the pirate snuggled into her side for her son's sake, but honestly, she can't bring herself to do it. Henry isn't looking at them in any way resembling discomfort. (Who is she kidding, the two of them have been a long time coming and her son's an observant kid. He probably knew the minute she decided to open herself up to Killian.) She's still so cold, and Killian is warm, and he feels like safety and home, and she's too exhausted to try to deny herself the warmth he's providing. So she lets herself snuggle into his side, ignoring the presence of Elsa, her parents, and her son in the room. They don't seem to be bothered by her and Killian, anyway.
-/-
He has to stop himself from shaking her away after she finally drifts off to sleep. She's warmer now-still not back to normal, but the color is back in her lips and cheeks and all sign of blue tint is gone from her fingers. She's no longer at risk of freezing to death (the thought still makes his heart twist painfully). After she stays like that for some time, sleeping hunched over in the chair, Dave helps him gather Emma (and all her blankets) into Killian's arms and they move her to the bed across the loft.
"No funny business," the prince warns when Killian sits on the mattress, Emma's head cradled against his shoulder.
Killian doesn't fail to notice how her father doesn't even try to suggest he leave her. "I wouldn't dream of it," he swears. "Besides, this is quite an open space. You can see me from the kitchen."
David smiles. "I'm just giving you a hard time. Thank you for being here. And for everything you've done for her."
He glances down at the woman sleeping against him, smiling as her soft breath tickles against his neck. "There's no place I'd rather be."