A/N: When I say that I wrote something with Sara, it is a true collaboration. The piece that emerges is usually half and half (the multi-chapter is a bit of a different story because sometimes one will write much more of one chapter than another and vice versa, but at the end of the day, the fic as a whole is half and half.) This is one we wrote while together in person. Reviews and constructive criticism , just overall feedback is greatly appreciated. Originally posted to Tumblr March 21st, 2015.

He can't help but grin at the way she moves, uncoordinated and uncaring, dancing around the bathroom while she puts on her make-up. He likes to lean against the doorframe, arms and ankles crossed, and watch. Sometimes she sings, other times she doesn't. Today seems to be a day that she'll sing along. Her head bobbing from side to side as she swipes a brush across her cheek, leaving it a tinge pinker. She side glances him through the mirror, biting her lip and grinning. He shakes his head and continues to watch - his blue eyes tracing every curve as she sways her hips to the tune.

"What are you up to, Captain?" her eyes sparkle in the glow of the bathroom light. Her golden hair is tied back neatly, giving him amply view of her face, the curve of her neck. She's beautiful, his Swan, he thinks maybe the most in the mornings when she's free and unworried. When there is no need to be the sheriff or the savior. When she can simply be Emma, his Emma.

"Just enjoying the view." Killian replies with a tilt of his head and a swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip.

She puts down her mascara, turning to face him and, Gods she is gorgeous. "Come here." She quarks her finger and he can't help but push off the wall and do as she asks. She may not have lived in the Enchanted Forest, but she's a bloody siren with a power over him he never thought possible.

It was second nature, to reach and pull her body closer until their knees touch and their breaths mingle in the space between them. "Dance with me." He feels the low enchanting hum of her voice against his neck as she steps back, taking his hand and lifting his arm up, his wrist twisting as his body bends awkwardly to spin under her. He laughs, loud and carefree, his tone raspy and deep, pulling her into him with a jerk.

"You're going to make us late, love." Killian smiles, his hook resting on her hip as they sway.

"A princess is never late, everyone else is early." Her voice is jubilant and the serious tone she usually carries gone with no return in sight. He loves her like this, he loves her always, but this is amazing. He never imagined her being this way with him; so trusting, letting down her walls so that he can see her. As the song ends and she tugs him closer, he thinks back to the moment he'd said he was a fan of every part of her and never has that been so true. He loves her fierceness, her gumption, her light.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you, too. Go finish getting ready, cause we're gonna be late. Again." She beams with joy and he wishes he could bottle it up and carry it with him. Killian kisses her head briefly, breathing her in to cherish this quiet moment with her for just a second longer. He gives her one last look before leaving the bathroom, smirking as she goes back to getting ready.

When she returned for lunch, he noticed a drag in her step, posture much more tense than when he had dropped her off at the station earlier in the day. She leaned over the countertop, fidgeting with her necklace as she waited for her order. Ruby set a glass of water in front of her as Killian sauntered over, massaging her shoulders, the side of his hook pressing into the small of her back.

"Are you alright, Love?" he asks, neck wrapping around so he can kiss her temple. She rolled her shoulders and leaned into him, trying to relax.

"Yeah. Just hungry." she replies. "Do you want anything?" He loves this; the fact that even when she's stressed, she's concerned about him and the little mundane aspects of his day. He brushes his fingers through her cascading blonde locks, twisting it to his desire.

"I'm quite alright, Swan." He says, hand on her back as they walk to an empty booth. She sighs when they sit down, breath heavy with exhaustion that he wishes she did not feel. Her right hand wrapped around his hook as she ate, taking in small bites, furrowing her eyebrows. He decides that it's impossible for her to not be beautiful, no matter how energetic or tired she is. His Swan will always be beautiful.

Killian leans over, just enough to brush his lips against her forehead and pull her just the smallest bit closer. He's always had this need to protect her, since Neverland. She's radiant and stunning, to perfect for the cruelties of this world.

"Are you busy at the library?" her voice is meek and shallow, causing his heart to twinge. He's only ever heard her this way a few times and it only reinforces his desire to hide her away, to keep her smiling and laughing for the rest of her days.

"Not particularly." Killian eyes her cautiously, she spooks like a deer deep in the forest when you move too quickly and never again does he want her running from him.

"Do you think you could just come spent the rest of the day at the station with me?" Her grip tightens on his hook, her eyes avoiding his and he recognizes this hesitation from her. The same she had right after the damn Crocodile tried to end his life. He instantly knows something has triggered the memory.

"For you, darling, I would gladly drop my tasks." He watches her exhale, slow and deep, like she's trying to process the thoughts that he knows are swimming around in her head. "Besides, spending the rest of my day by your side is far better than helping the dwarves clean up after the mess Maleficent made of the library."

They're at the station, she's hovered over the cold block of a desk, scribbling lines he can't see over his position in the spare office chair. He's supposed to be reading a book Belle recommended, a little over 300 pages, paperback with coffee stained edges that the librarian had read a hundred times over. He propped his feet up on his Swan's desk, and leaned further back in the cushion of his seat, occasionally attempting to decipher the words on the white sheet of paper, too far from his view to make out the delicate curves and points. His gaze rises to her visage, her lips pressed firmly together in concentration as her gorgeous green eyes dart from side to side, flowing with the movement of her silver pen.

He had wanted to help her, insisted that he do more than just bask in her presence. But she was just as persuasive, if not more, and he always strived to do as his lady requested. She tied her hair back in a loose and low ponytail that highlighted the bewitching shape of her face. There was no point in attempting to read now, her beauty consuming his every thought; a perfect distraction. She startles when he closes the book, tilting his head in awe at the sight of her.

"What?" she asks, her tone dancing on a line between playful and irritated.

"Nothing." Killian shakes his head, his eyes bright and full of love. "You're just stunning." He sees the blush rise on her already pink cheeks and if there was ever a moment he thought he couldn't ever love her more, that moment was now. He takes his feet of the desk, twisting around and moving himself (and his chair) closer to her. She ducks her head to the side, avoiding him further. "Swan," Killian brings his hand to her cheek, pulling her face to meet his and it finally gives him the opportunity to really look at her since they arrived at station. There is vexation sitting just below the surface, only showing through the cracks that her love for him has made. "Did something happen earlier?"

"No, why?" She presses her lips together, in an attempt to hide. But hiding from him has never ended well, he's perceptive and she's a beautiful puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Emma," her eyes flutter closed when he leans in further, a quiet and ragged breath coming out of her perfect lips that he loves to kiss. "You can't hide from me, just as I can't from you. Tell me what's the matter."

She finally looks at him, only to lean in further and press her forehead against his. It's an action she does when she needs comfort but doesn't know how to ask for it. Killian uses his hook, hitching it under her chair and rolling it to meet his. He leans in more, her legs resting between his own, his thumb rubs against her cheek bones and gently beneath her water-rimmed eyes. "I saw Gold earlier, he was here this morning talking to David when I came in." She takes a deep breath and leans into his touch. He can see it on her face, see the desire she has to crawl into him and stay there. She's told him before that she feels safe when she's in his arms. "I know it shouldn't have upsetted me but, there are some things I just can't forgive him for. Especially now there we, that you.."

"Hey," Killian finally gives into the urge he has to kiss her, gently pressing his lips against hers. Keeping it short and sweet and comforting. "Why don't we end the day early and head back to Granny's? Watch Netflix?"

An hour later, his arms are wrapped around her, hand under her knees which are lightly pressing against his stomach, to hold her as close as possible. Her hair tickles his arm and when he grins she only squeezes him tighter, momentarily hiding her own face in the front of his shoulder, placing kisses there when she feels her mind start to slip. Part of him wants to hold her like this forever, shelter her from the hostilities that life throws their way. But when he thinks back to this morning, he is reminded that he doesn't want to rob her of the happiness she felt before work, the bounce in her step and lightheartedness of her voice. He loved this part. When she falls asleep in his arms and his heart feels like it could burst at any moment. He wants this with her, this freedom to just be. He's waited an eternity to find love again, during which he lost any hope of living for something other than the promise of revenge to get him through the next day, merely surviving. It wasn't until he held her, until she wanted him, breaking down his walls of insecurity that had so long stood they were tattooed into his skin. He longed for this, yearning eyes searching for her so that she's the last thing he sees before closing his eyes and the first thing he sees when they open. Everytime he sees her, he swears he can't love her anymore than he already does; but everyday, every time his eyes land on her he's reminded how wrong he is. His love for her will last until the end of time, for that he is certain and his only hope is her love for him will last just as long.