A little something post what is going to be the hardest funeral ever to watch.

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We Wait for Morning

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When he comes into his room at Granny's in the evening, Emma is already waiting there. Sitting on the edge of his bed, facing away from him, dressed all in black from the funeral and drinking his finest rum straight from the bottle. Despite losing his ship to Blackbeard in return for passage to this realm, Killian had managed to hold onto a few select items of value, his rum included. He doesn't even flinch at her presence, as though he'd expected it, just simply catches the bottle in his hand as he passes by her and takes a swig from it himself as he sits down too, looking out over the town with her from the small window.

"You spoke beautifully today," he says, handing the bottle back, watching the long line of her neck as she tips her head and swallows her sorrows with the spiced alcohol.

She doesn't know what to say about that, so she rests her head on his shoulder instead, offering her thanks in physical contact. He doesn't have to ask, her arm just swings around and the bottle arrives in his hand. He sighs and takes a final sip before reaching over to the window sill and setting the rum down there.

His arm comes to rest around her shoulders and she leans into his chest, placing a hand on his knee, "How did everything get so messed up?"

It's times like this that he feels the most guilty for getting her memories back, when he thinks of how happy she must have been in her false world compared to how sad and stressed she seems here in Storybrooke. He knows that on some level, even if she won't admit it to him, that this is his fault. Her misery is his doing.

But, as though reading his thoughts, she pinches his leg and reassures him. "I don't blame you. I just wish I could understand why everything in this town comes with a curse or with death attached to it."

He pulls her closer to him in answer, wishing he could take away the aches of her burdens.

It's quiet for a while, distant sounds of townsfolk stumbling home from The Rabbit Hole the only indication that the world hasn't ended and they're the only two left.

"Do you want to stay here the night?" he asks finally, knowing that if he doesn't make the offer, she'll go home and cry herself to sleep alone. It's something he's not prepared to allow when comfort can be so easily granted.

She nods against his chest, pushing herself up slightly to look at him. "I need you to know something though."

They've been teetering on the edge of something more for a while now, meaningful looks and silent promises their way of communicating something bigger between them in the midst of all the wicked ways of the world. He knows this is a moment for them, so catching her hand in his, he gives her his complete attention, "What is it, love?"

She squeezes his hand, running her thumb along his wrist, "You know it's always been you, right?"

He doesn't say anything, afraid that he might scare her off with his eagerness to agree with her words.

"With everything that's happened, I know it might be easy to believe that I've been waiting for an excuse, but really, what I've needed was the time."

He averts his gaze, afraid of what her reasoning might be, afraid to face what could be another loss, "Time to what?"

She smiles, "Time to tell you how I feel, to tell you that losing you would destroy me, that I think what we have runs deeper than superficial flirting and innuendo."

He's closer now, eyes still downcast, their noses bumping as he shakes his head back and forth, "You've expressed a mere sentence. Hardly necessary to have inordinate amounts of time, Swan."

It's warm between them, their foreheads touching, their breath mingling, "The point is that I need to make the time, pirate." Her lips brush his with her words, "So this is me, making the time to love you."

She doesn't let him react to her admission, just captures his lips with hers as she tilts her head and deepens their embrace. Their hands untangle and venture up each other's arms, over their shoulders, behind their necks. The scruff on his chin tickles the skin of hers and it's almost surreal that this is really happening, that they're allowed this feeling of happiness, these feelings of pleasure.

Moments from Neverland are brought to both their minds as her hands frantically grab at his lapels, hunger overtaking them in a passionate heat. They draw each other in as a quiet moan escapes her mouth…

And then she pulls back, enough to put some space between them, but not far enough that she can't still smell the sweetness of the rum on his breath.

"That was…" he whispers.

"The first of many," she answers.

As though testing her, he lets his lips fall against hers once more, a chaste kiss to prove to himself that she's real and she's there and she's ready for him.

Her hands come to his chest, pushing back gently, "But right now we have a Wicked Witch to focus on."

One day she'll look back on the next moment and know that that was when he became 'it' for her. Because no matter what she throws at him, he always comes back and, while she may have loved him prior to now, any doubts wash away in a simple statement.

"And focus we shall. Tomorrow." He grasps her hand where is sits on his chest, "For now you get a night off."

And it's so perfect and so wonderfully unexpected to have someone to take the responsibility off her shoulders that she sits in shock for a moment. All this time, it's all she's needed – someone to say that it's okay to not be the saviour every hour of the day, someone to make the decision for her, to do the one thing she will never do for herself and say that it's alright to stop and have a moment to herself.

She's not racked by the guilt that usually comes with a selfish decision and she realises that the man sitting before her has no idea how much he's just given her.

She lunges forward, wrapping her arms around his torso, letting her head rest on his chest once more. One day she'll figure out a way to get past her emotions and actually express her feelings in words, but for now she knows the human contact definitely isn't going astray.

His fake hand strokes up and down her back, while he presses loving kisses along her hairline. They stay like that until sleep eventually beckons to them, its promise of dreams and comfort too much to resist. They lie down across the bed, limbs tangled together in a beautiful mess, and fall into the first restful slumber either of them has had in countless days.

And just as their kiss, their night together is the first of many.

…

Reviews maybe?