A/N: A happy birthday to the lovely ZenGoalie
Let's burn it all baby
and rise above
It had been a quiet drive. She'd been focusing on the road, Henry had been immersed in his video games and Hoo- Killian had been silent, looking out the window, his hand fidgeting over his leather pants. She had stolen a couple of quick glances his way, but he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.
The bug had started to act funny by the time they passed Portland and she could tell by the way the car didn't respond to the gear shifts that something was wrong with the clutch.
"We have to stop," she sighed. "Something is wrong with the clutch."
"The what?" Killian asked, confused.
"It's a piece of the car," she tried to explain. "We need to find a repair shop so they can take a look at it. Henry, can you search on your phone?"
The entire ordeal of finding a repair shop, having them take a look at the Bug and then fix the clutch took a several hours. Emma and Hook exchanged a look when they were bringing back the car.
"Swan, perhaps it's wise to retire for the night and then resume our journey in the morning."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same, a good night's rest wouldn't be a bad idea," she smiled softly. "We'll find a hotel nearby."
The hotel wasn't much, but it was clean and had two rooms available that they could take. After a quick bite at a diner nearby, Emma left Killian at the door to his room and retired with Henry to hers.
As much as she tried, she couldn't sleep. She could hear Henry's even breathing on the bed next to hers, but every time she closed her eyes, all these images would flood her mind.
Her real memories were battling against her fake memories and there was only one outcome: ache. Pain. Nothing of what she had, or thought she had, has been real. She didn't raise Henry, Regina did. She'd never made peace with her past, she just thought she had. She'd never been safe, she'd just thought she was. And she'd never been in a relationship after Neal, she just thought she had.
Walsh never loved her, he was just using her. He was one of the many for whom she'd been nothing but a tool, an instrument. The product of true love, the savior, a menace.
With the exception of Henry, none of them had really seen her. None of them had really cared for her. Just her - just Emma.
Except for one.
He had shown up on her doorstep, all black leather and bravado, and risked everything to convince her. He didn't give up, not until he was able to get through her walls - again - and bring her back.
And he was just across the hall. His words still resonated within her. I came back to save you.
She sighed, getting out of bed, careful not to make any noise, and left the room. Her steps were hesitant as she walked the small distance to his room, her mind travelling back to another memory.
There's not a day that will go by that I won't think of you.
She knocked softly on his door. She needed to know. Just once, just this once, she needed to know.
He answered the door in nothing but his leather pants. He was barefoot and bare chested, and it took her a second to lift her gaze to his face. He looked at her confused, his head tilting. "Swan, is everything ok?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice, not even the hint of an innuendo.
"Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly, and he opened the door and moved to the side so she could enter his room. She walked a few steps into the room and then turned around to face him. She took a moment to study him, the way his brace climbed onto his forearm and elbow, the sharp lines of his shoulders, the hair on his chest, the scars that were present here and there, the black lines that hint a tattoo on his hipbone. The way his hair was eternally disheveled. All those little details had been missing from her memory for the past year, and finding them again felt like an awakening.
"Let me put on my shirt, love," he said as he moved to grab the discarded shirt from a chair nearby and he swiftly pulled it over his head and put his arms into the sleeves. It remained unbuttoned and she had to resist the temptation to reach out and graze the fabric with her fingers.
"Emma, not that I don't appreciate a late night call from a beautiful woman, but why are you here?" he asked, his voice soft and low in the midst of the night.
"I - I just need to know," she said.
"Know what?"
She looked at him directly, gathering the courage to ask, "Did you think of me this past year?"
His features softened, a sad smile coming to his face, his blue eyes filled with distant memories, "Every day," he whispered softly.
She nodded and moved towards the bed, taking a seat with one knee beneath her chin. "What did you think about?" she ventured.
He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he leaned his tall frame against the wall, "I just thought of you, Swan… small things, nonsensical things…" he trailed off, half shrugging in embarrassment.
"Would you tell me… please?" she asked as she lifted her other leg, her arms circling to hug her legs as she rested her head on her knees.
He gave her a long stare, his eyes trying to search for something and she knew he was reading her, desperately trying to figure out the reason behind her unusual request.
Finally, he sighed, a soft smile coming to his lips as he averted his gaze. He spoke softly, his voice echoing distant memories that were kept deep in the dungeons of his mind.
"I- I would be sitting in the tavern, drinking rum and rolling the dice and I would just wish you'd be there, drinking and laughing with me, besting me at any game we'd play."
She smiled at that, a small chuckle escaping her lips. He lifted his head intrigued, and his blue eyes soon seemed brighter as he understood the meaning behind her laugh. He pushed himself away from the wall, carefully walking the distance towards the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Or I would be sailing on the Jolly and thinking that I wish I could teach you how to sail, and perhaps have you trapped between the helm and meself, our hands joined while we spin it."
He arched an eyebrow as he sat on the bed next to her, his hand near her feet, his upper body facing her and she rolled her eyes but there wasn't much sentiment behind it. It was almost like a reflex. He smiled fondly at the gesture.
His hand ventured to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as he continued in a tender voice, "I would strike up entire conversations with you in my mind, love. About Liam, about Milah, about everything I wanted to be for you." His fingers softly caressed her cheek as he removed his hand and she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, "About how much I missed you and wanted to find you. About how much you've meant to me," he whispered softly.
Her green eyes opened at the last sentence, to find blue staring back at her: deep as the ocean, like the calm before a storm.
"And at night?" she asked softly.
He sighed, running his hand through his hair before he moved on the bed to sit against the headboard. Her eyes followed him, her leg stretching as she turned around to face him.
His head was lifted, his eyes on the ceiling, his voice wrapping her up, enveloping her in a safe cocoon. "I would lie in bed thinking how much I wanted you to be with me. And on the rare nights when I was able to sleep, I would dream of you," he finished in a barely audible whisper.
"Doing what?" she said as she softly moved on the bed towards him.
He closed his eyes, sighing, "I would dream about having you closer, with me, always with me. Sometimes it was just you and I in the cabin, and you would rest your head on my shoulder, your hand on my chest and I would fall asleep to the sound of your breathing."
He intook a sharp breath as he felt her head on his shoulder, her soft hair caressing his cheek, her hand pressed against his heart. He bent his head and opened his eyes to meet deep green ones, filled with ache and unspoken need.
"Did I - did I ever kiss you in those dreams?" she asked, her head leaning towards his, the movement almost imperceptible, but still there.
"Aye, many times." He swallowed, his head tilting and slowly moving down to meet hers. "Sometimes it was like when we kissed in Neverland; but sometimes it was soft, slow. Like a warm welcome home," he murmured, inches away from her lips. She closed the distance between them to give him just what he'd described: a soft kiss that felt like coming home. For both of them.
His lips moved softly against hers, tentatively, afraid to take one false step and lose their contact. His hand cradled her head, his fingers tangling softly in her hair. Her hands traveled up his arms, to his shoulders, finding a home at the nape of his neck - where her fingers began to softly caress his hair. She felt her body stiffen and protest at the awkward position and soon she'd moved without even noticing, her thighs on each side of his outstretched legs as she straddled him and deepened the kiss. He groaned, his brace moving to press her lower back closer to him.
She broke the kiss breathless, and met his dazed look, his eyes darkened, his breath coming out in quicks pants.
"Did I - did I ever touch you?" she asked.
"Swan…" he groaned softly, and she could hear the pain and hesitation in his voice. Her eyes met his without a doubt.
"You came back to save me… Just - just tell me."
His eyes darkened before he swiftly shifted them until her body laid on the bed and he was hovering over her. "I've dreamt of this," he whispered, his scruffy cheek tingling her skin as his lips whispered in her ear. "The soft curves of your body beneath mine, my lips covering every single patch of your skin, my hand caressing you until you come undone in my arms," he finished in a growl.
She gasped, her body arching to meet his, "Killian, show me…"
"Swan," he professed against her lips before he kissed her, slow and deep and she could feel the fire in her skin. Soft and tender, but passionately, they removed their clothes as they caressed each part they were discovering. He closed his eyes, a blissful expression on his face when his body finally connected with hers, before he kissed her deeply, whispering in her ear about each night he'd dreamt of them.
"Of all the times I've imagined this during the last year, Swan," he said between kisses as he thrust into her, taking her body to a high she'd never experienced before, "none of my dreams can compare to how great you feel, love," he said in a whisper before he collapsed onto her.
He pulled her closer to him, her body curving against his as he buried his nose in her hair and they slowly drifted to sleep.
He woke up a few hours later to the feeling of her tongue licking him. He grunted softly, his hips arching involuntary. Emma smiled mischievously.
"Did you dream of this?" she asked.
"Gods, Emma, yes," he gasped and her mouth closed around him again, licking and sucking until he felt himself almost losing control.
"Wait, love," he pleaded desperately as he pulled her up to crash his lips against hers. She straddled him, her hand guiding him inside her quickly, not being able to wait a minute longer.
"That is how it was some nights," he panted as his hips met her eager movements, "desperate, the need of you so strong that it would burn inside of me like a fire." He kept thrusting erratically, his hand moving to caress her until she came undone above him and he quickly followed her.
It was only when she lay boneless and sated in his arms that he dared breaking the spell they'd been under for the past few hours, "What is the word for it in this realm?"
"For what?" she asked.
His eyes met hers with pained understanding. "When you fall into someone's bed after leaving someone else."
Her heart sank in her chest. "Rebound," she admitted.
"Is - Is that what I am, Swan? Your rebound?"
The sadness in his voice tore her apart. "Yes and no," she quickly admitted and he averted his gaze. Her hand moved to bring his eyes back to hers. "You are not just a rebound. You are more than that. You are the one that thought of me, the one that came back for me. You are the one who found me," she finished as she pressed her lips softly to his. "I have to go," she whispered as she noticed the time that had elapsed.
"Aye, I'll walk you," he offered as he got up and reached for their clothes. They dressed in silence and he walked her to the door. She opened the door and took a few steps out into the hallway before she turned around to face him. He was leaning against the door frame, clad in leather pants and bare chested.
"Killian - I," she started but he cut her off by softly pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Aye, I know," he whispered.
She gave him a soft smile before turning around and leaving for her room. Come morning, just in a few hours, they would drift apart again. But for now, at least, he had this night to remember and she had this night to remind herself that someone never forgot her, that someone always thought of her.
That for someone, she came first.