Everyone was accounted for – Henry was at Regina's, probably the best medicine for her anguish that they could find, the Charmings had hinted at wanting their own privacy for the afternoon, much to Emma's horror and Killian's amusement, Hyde was behind bars and all current crises seemed to be on hold.
Really, they thought they'd covered all their bases. There was no reason Killian couldn't lift his true love onto their kitchen table, enjoying the flutter of her giggles against his mouth, and proceed to strip her of all her garments (even that damn appealing jacket, despite his reluctance).
Actually there were quite a few reasons he could and should and must must do that. Like the afternoon sun, setting ablaze the few golden strands that had escaped her ponytail, like Emma and the table beneath her, making sounds that reminded him of a gently rocking boat. Maybe not that gently. Emma, never the patient type, was setting his every square inch of skin on fire with her frenzied movements, her teeth tugging at his ear, his lip, sinking into his jugular to urge him on. And her hands – Emma's hands were a power to be reckoned with and Killian honestly thought he might be torn to pieces the way things were progressing.
Oh, but what a way to go.
Really there was no reason for Killian Jones and Emma Swan not to make use of any horizontal surface in their new home. And a few vertical ones. At least they thought there wasn't.
"Killian? Oy, little br-"
As someone who had seen a couple of centuries come and go, Killian always found in fascinating how years could drag their dead weight without anything of consequence happening. And then sometimes, a single second could rush in and imprint a hundred images and sounds on you. In a single second – a world of confusion, surprise, dare he say, absolute horror.
In a second Emma's eyes widened with mortification, her head ducking into his chest just as the crimson tint on her cheeks had began to spread and her teeth sank into her own lip this time. Her thighs, very counterproductively he might add, clamped even harder around him, whether in some misguided effort to hide herself somewhat or make sure he didn't… expose himself further, he couldn't be sure.
In that second Killian was too busy swearing at his brother in every language he had ever learnt (post-navy days he did usually learn the bad words first). His hand fretting helplessly between Emma's thighs and her back before realizing there was no real hope of him covering anything of her or himself, for that matter.
In that second, true to everything Killian knew about his brother, Liam went from stupefied to embarrassed (probably the emotion he experienced for the shortest amount of time unlike about the couple in the kitchen) to amused to absolutely hysterical.
So a reason why Killian Jones and Emma Swan shouldn't be getting it on in their kitchen? Liam Jones, newly resurrected, not-so-newly infuriating, beloved, pain-in-the-ass brother currently curling in on himself from laughter in said kitchen's doorway.
"Bloody hell, Liam! Could you perhaps turn the fuck around?!"
That seemed to only make the older man laugh harder, his hand coming up in a placating gesture as he, still half-bent over in mirth, twisted himself away from the sight of the Savior and Captain Hook, butt naked and flushed bright red from embarrassment.
"Don't you know how to bloody knock?!" grumbled Killian, sounds of shuffling, scrambling, rustling and mostly swearing accompanying his complaints.
"I've lived on ships for most of my life, as you might be aware, little brother. Not much knocking going around there."
"Younger b-"
"I believe what Killian means is that he will remember to lock the door in the future," came Emma's half-stern, half-can-the-ground-swallow-me-now voice. "And you can turn around now."
Turning on his heel, the elder Jones bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to dissolve into another fit of laughter. Apparently in a rush to get some clothes on, Killian was only wearing his jeans and obviously struggling with the belt in his hand and hook. And Emma, well, Emma had put on her jeans and upon failing completely at finding her shirt had settled for pulling on Killian's. The pirate's lack of success with the belt could be blamed on that particular spur-of-the-moment clothing choice. That and the fact that said belt seemed way too small for him.
"That's mine," stage-whispered Emma, pulling the accessory from her boyfriend's hand a bit too quickly and accidentally snapping him in the mouth with it.
"Oh, bloody-!"
"Shit! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Liam chocked back a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning in the doorway and observing with great interest the frazzled couple and Emma's hilarious backtracking when she went to kiss Killian's now-bruised lip only to remember his brother had probably seen more than enough displays of… affection to last him his next lifetime.
"Wow. You two need to up your game. Your parents were much better at recovery and redirection."
Emma's eyes widened with a mix of shock and the complete lack of desire to hear any more on the topic.
"I went looking for you at their place first," said Liam matter-of-factly.
"Well then, brother, since you seem to have accumulated considerable experience in that, why don't you go sabotage the rest of the citizens of Storybrooke in their quest for privacy and we'll see you back here for dinner in an hour, hm?"
Liam raised his hands in surrender, gave Emma a slight bow and winked at Killian as he made his exit. Only to poke his head back into the kitchen a second later, delighted to see them jump back to alert from their slouching on the table and into each other.
"Oh, by the way, you ain't serving me dinner on that table."
Some people may be a bit perturbed by their brother's girlfriend hurling an orange at them with her magic.
Liam Jones thought Emma Swan was really beginning to like him.