An expansion/continuation of the last 6x01 scene at Granny's.
CS. Post 6x01. Fluff-ish?
...small author's note at the bottom
The tips of her fingers were beginning to tremble, again. Emma busied them. Swiping stray strands of silky golden hair behind her ear. Her fingers return to her glass of rum. His glass of rum. The glass with merely one good swig left. She had to give it to him, the man knew how to make a statement.
"Love?"
"Wha'?"
Kilian's soft lilt cuts through the fog of her worried, wandering mind. Her head snaps his direction. Eyes soft and brows raised, she meets his beautiful blue gaze. "Would that be alright with you?"
"Would what be - ?"
With intent eyes, he interrupts her. His suspicion that she hadn't heard a word of his and Madam Lucas' discussion confirmed. Gesturing towards a retreating Granny, "The Madam Lucas would like our help welcoming Hyde's people."
"Of course," Emma murmured with a growl. Every ounce of energy she had left was spent keeping her eyes from rolling at the sheer irony in her predicament.
"What was that?"
"Of course," she regurgitates, this time with a sweet insistence expected of the savior. Quickly and with practiced ease, Emma masks her worried irritation. "Where does she want us?"
Something slammed behind them, startling Emma nearly out of her skin. Granny stood at one of the tables in the middle of the diner. A large storage container on top of it.
"Don't ask me which curse these came with! But I think these will come in handy. They didn't exactly match the rooms, so we never bothered with them. But they're thick and they're durable."
"They'll be perfect Granny. Thanks." Emma couldn't help herself, a genuine smile forming on her face. Granny's the best.
"Of course! Always happy to help out. Now you," Granny turned her eyes on Killian. "I'm not getting any younger," She started, hand naturally going around to her lower back, as if to emphasize an unnecessary point. Killian has just as big of a soft spot for Granny as Emma does, he would do just about anything the woman asked of him.
"How can I be of service m'lady?"
"There's half a dozen more boxes of blankets and supplies - "
"Ah, of course."
The line of town newcomers was dwindling. Groups of people lingered around the diner. Some inspecting the trappings of this likely unfamiliar world, some tucking into the booths with their bags of Granny's best diner fare, and others chatting away with Storybrooke's more regular residents.
Emma had just passed out her last blanket. Turning to look at Henry, she realizes he must have run out of blankets long ago. Scanning the diner with a more attentive eye, she spots him among their guests. One of his storybooks is opened on the table in front of him as he excitedly - and presumably - discusses the contents of it with those around him.
"How are you feeling love?"
"Fine." The breakneck speed with which she answered him makes her roll her eyes at herself. She can feel it again. The twinge in the tips of her fingers, the shake of her wrist. Clenching her hand into a tight fist she takes his ringed fingers with her other as she faces him. "I guess I'm a little tired though."
"Then you, my love, should go home and get some rest. I'd like to help Granny straighten up."
Emma couldn't help the small grin that pulled at the corner of her lips. "And Henry," her eyes found him again, still just as animatedly talking to the newcomers.
"The lad will help as well. Granny has him in charge of showing them to their rooms."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Emma. Please, go rest. You promised -"
"Weeks of sleep. I remember."
"Good. Now go on." His head nodding toward the door and a playful smirk dancing across his face, "Git."
She smiles at him, bashful. With their fingers still interlaced, she tugs him closer to her and leans up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek again. The soft and subtle blush that creeps over the stubble-less skin there is her new favorite thing.
"I'll see you later?" A mesmerized happiness spreads across his face at the question. As if her want to have him by her side was still new to him. With consideration, well, she supposed it was. But he nodded in answer all the same. "I love you."
"And I you."
Reluctantly, she pries her hand away from his and makes for the front door. As she reaches for the cool metal handle her tremors start again, full force. Quickly and discreetly, Emma bolted out of the door and out into the cool Maine night.
Emma entered the bedroom and eyed the bed from the door frame. She stood there for a moment, a small shake shooting down her arm. Lifting her hand to inspect, she finally noticed how grimey her hands were. She bypassed the bed. Striping layers of clothing off as she made her way to the master bathroom.
Hot water rained down over the savior's face. Tilting her head up, she let the shower head stream straight on her forehead. The warm veil of water felt so good. Her body was finally beginning to relax, the warmth of the shower enveloping her and the feeling of being clean bringing her unexpected pleasure. God, how long had it been since she'd showered? It was arguably more satisfying than sex. But that was a whole different itch.
Lost in thoughts of itches she'd like scratched, Emma leaned back out of the line of the shower head. The warm water running heavily down her neck and her chest as a relieved sigh escapes her lips. When Emma finally opens her eyes they're met with a fairly thick cloud of steam. Immediately her mind's eye is yanked back to her losing struggle. The hazy town streets. The clang of swords and the heavy feeling of a body spent over a long battle overtakes her once more. Her sword escapes her grasp and moments later the other is buried deep within her gut.
She comes to with a violent start. Her hands, fly up to steady herself on the walls of the shower stall. Breathing heavily Emma fights to steady herself, again.
Thirty minutes later, she's pulling a fresh tank top over her still damp hair. The intense warmth of the shower left her chilly now. Pulling an old and trusty pair of sweatpants from her drawer, she puts them on - almost basking in the comfort of them - and grabs a new towel continuing to dry her long hair as best she could. The shower was too necessary to skip out on but she loathed getting into a comfortable bed with a mop of wet hair.
A door closing downstairs caught her attention. The weight behind it indicated that someone had entered the front door. Had she locked it? Then the thick lilt of her pirate soothed her nerves. He and Henry seemed to be joking with each other as they ascended the stairs.
"Love?" Killian called out, confused as he entered the bedroom to find all the lights on and the bed still perfectly made.
"Hey."
"Hey." His voice came out on a sigh. The vision of his Swan clean and comfy a relief to his eyes.
Emma's relaxed nature post-shower offered a bit of encouragement to Killian that one would do him wonders as well. When he returned - shiny, shimmering and clean - he found his love curled up on one side of the enormous bed. He slipped in under the comforter behind her. When he was nearly settled, ready to situate himself against her back, she turns to him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she bring her right hand to rest on his chest. Killian relaxed into her and brought his arm around her shoulders, allowing his fingers to tangle in and play with her beautiful blonde hair.
Slowly, her hand started to do its thing again. Softly but annoyingly noticeable. Instinctively she reached for something to secure it and her fingers immediately find her pirate's necklace. With intent she wraps her fingers around the metal to steady her hand.
That course of action does not go unnoticed. But instead of the questions Emma dreads of answering she's met with a firm kiss on the crown of her head. With her worries assuaged she smiles into Killian's shoulder and plants an equally firm kiss there.
"Sweet dreams, my love."
If he only knew.
(For the peeps that were reading my multi-chap…. I promise I've only temporarily abandoned that. It's my first fic and I got a little excited. I gotta figure out where the hell I wanted to go with it. But… I expect the approaching Thanksgiving/Christmas time of year will reignite that muse soon enough)
