Emma stays on the deck of the Jolly after everyone else has gone below to bed, enjoying the first cool, humidity-free breeze she's felt in what seems like months. She's not sure how long their sail - flight - whatever - back from Neverland will take, but from the look of things it'll be several hours, at least. Even with the enormous weight lifted from her shoulders, the knowledge that Henry is safe and her father will live and they're going home, she's still too wound up to think about bed, too many other things on her mind.

Rumple had promised the cure for her father but she still doesn't trust the man as far as she can throw him. And even once he is cured, there's just too much to deal with. They sent her away as a baby only to want to try again, to have a… not a replacement, Emma knows that logically, but to have another child and give it everything that was torn away from her. She'd already been replaced by one set of parents. The thought of it happening again makes her insides clench.

Part of her wants to go below and watch Henry sleep, watch him breathe. She decides against it, not wanting to risk waking him. They'll have plenty of time together once they're back in Storybrooke. Time she'll have to share with his other mother, something Regina had made abundantly clear.

Time she'll have to share with his father as well.

She very pointedly does not turn around, does not glance over her shoulder from where she leans against the railing at the stern of the ship. Neal is behind the wheel, and her place on the ship - as far as humanly possible from him as she can get - is no accident. She's been quiet enough that he likely doesn't even realize she's still up here; he'd have approached her by now otherwise. She doesn't want to listen to his excuses, to his promises to change, to him trying to win her back, doesn't even care if he truly means it this time. She's been thrown away too many times in her life. She won't give Neal the chance to do it again.

Yes, there was a weight lifted from her shoulders, only now replaced by several others. The more she lets her mind wander, the less refreshing the cool air seems.

Emma makes her way below deck as quietly as possible. She pauses outside of the captain's quarters, cracking the door open just enough to get a glimpse of her son. She smiles to herself when she sees him sleeping soundly, and shuts the door with a barely-audible click. The narrow hallway is dark, not a lantern in sight, but a faint light spills from beneath the crack of another door, the first mate's cabin.

There's only one person who could possibly be in there, one who gave away his own bed. And he's apparently awake.

She stops in front of his door and raises her hand to knock, only to lower it with a sigh. Her only other two options - to go to bed or risk going above deck again - seem impossible. She steps back, glancing to either side of the hallway, chewing on her lip.

Decide, dammit.

She knocks.

For a moment she thinks she's mistaken, that he's sleeping somewhere else or drifted off without putting out the light, but after a few long seconds a soft, unmistakable voice on the other side of the door tells her to come in.

The cabin is smaller than the captain's quarters, no shelves of books lining the walls or large table in the center of it. There's not much more than a bunk in the corner and a small desk pressed against the side of the wall where Hook sits, writing in a journal of some kind. A captain's log, maybe.

He blinks in surprise when he turns in his chair and sees her standing the doorway. "Swan. I thought you'd gone to bed."

She shrugs, suddenly feeling stupid and out-of-sorts, coming to him for - hell, she doesn't even know why. "No, not yet. I saw your light on."

"I assumed it was Baelfire, that he needed some assistance above deck."

Emma's staring at him, she realizes, but something about him looks different and it takes her a moment to place it: his coat, vest, and jewelry save a single necklace are gone, leaving him only in his leather pants and thin black shirt. More than that, the eyeliner has been washed away and his hair is damp. He looks softer, somehow, without all his pirate regalia on, less like a character and more like an ordinary man. Even his boots are gone, arranged neatly in a corner of the room.

He looks like a man who tried to sleep and gave up on it.

"Swan?" he asks again.

She shakes her head, forcing her gaze to the toes of her boots. "Sorry. I dunno, I just thought I'd see what you were up to."

He closes his book and stands then, crossing his arms over his chest, hook glinting in soft light of the lantern. "Is that all?" A familiar smirk crosses his face. "I know I promised you some fun once we left Neverland, love, but I didn't think you'd come to me this quickly."

It's even easier to see straight through the facade without his usual costume on. He's every bit as uncomfortable as she is, this first time that they've been alone together since the night after they got Neal back. Emma had nearly panicked the next morning over it, waiting for Hook to start dropping embarrassing hints in front of everybody or flirting even more shamelessly with her than he already had been.

It shouldn't have surprised her that he never did.

She simply rolls her eyes and steps into the cabin, shutting the door behind her. "Got any rum?"

"Indeed I do." He pulls his flask out of nowhere - where the hell does he hide that thing? - and steps across the room to pass it to her.

She takes a long pull before handing it back. "How is that not empty yet?"

He grins before taking a sip and handing it back to her. "It's enchanted."

She coughs as she drinks, spilling a bit of rum on her shirt while he laughs, eyes amused. "Are you serious? This is enchanted to never be empty?"

"You catch on quickly, Swan."

"How did you - "

His eyebrow goes up. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

She glances down at the flask and back at him. "No. No, I'm good."

His voice softens. "How's your boy?"

"Good. Sleeping. I just… he's been through a lot. I don't know how he's going to handle this when he gets home." She realizes she's pacing and stops, sitting on the nearest flat surface, which just so happens to be the bed.

"Well, if he's as strong as his mother, I'm sure he'll get through all right."

"Which mother?" she asks, and she can't keep the trace of bitterness out of her tone.

"Ah." A single syllable shouldn't sound so understanding. "So that's what this is?"

"Among other things," she mutters.

He crosses the cabin and tentatively sits next to her, gently prying the flask from her fingers and setting it aside. They sit in silence for a few minutes, both staring straight ahead. Emma thinks he's waiting for her to start talking and is almost startled when he speaks first.

"A long time ago I tried to be something of a father figure to a young boy." She turns her head to him curiously, but he keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead. "He didn't want me. Not after everything I'd done." His gaze falls to his lap, where the tip of his hook digs restlessly under his fingernails.

"Killian…" the name feels strange on her tongue, but it doesn't feel right to call him 'Hook,' not now.

He lifts his head to look at her, and the sincerity in his face almost makes her turn away, that same look she saw at the Echo Caves. "Your boy wants you, Emma. Don't ever forget that."

She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she lets it out with a shudder, blinking back the burning sensation in her eyes. She swallows it down until she can find her voice again. "You sure you want to put that rum away just now?"

He lets out a surprised laugh, but the sound is raw. "That's exactly why we should put it away."

"Yeah." She sighs. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to come in here and - "

"It's all right." They sit in quietly for another moment, and then: "Why did you really come here, Emma?"

She can't look at him then. "I didn't know where else to go. This seemed like the best option."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Because you're the only thing I don't have to share.

"Swan." There's warning in his tone, and she knows he won't let her get away with that.

"Sorry. I just… I have questions."

"Then ask them."

She knows this is dangerous ground she's treading, but that other voice in her head, the one that hasn't shut up since they first left for Neverland, tells her she can't walk away without answers. Not when it's been half the reason she can hardly fall asleep at night.

"Why did you turn your ship around in the first place? Really? I know it wasn't because I gave you some hopeful speech."

His smile is wry, tight. "You sell yourself short, Swan." She stares at him pointedly and his shoulders raise the slightest bit. "Your words did play a minor part. But I'd wronged Baelfire in the past. I thought helping to rescue his son would be a way of making amends."

"Oh." One of these days, Killian Jones would stop surprising her.

"That can't be all, love."

She shakes her head. "No. When you… when you saved my father."

"What about it?"

"You weren't going to tell me you'd done it, were you? And then he blew your cover."

She can feel him tense next to her. "That's right."

"Why?"

He pauses long before answering. "I didn't want you to think I'd done it to curry favor with you."

She closes her eyes and breathes deep. She'd suspected as much, after he shared Pan's secret regarding Neal and learned about Hook's brother, but hearing it spoken aloud - and completely truthfully - is something else entirely.

"You still used it to get a kiss out of me," she tries, grasping at straws.

"Can you blame me?" There it is again, another tiny bit of false bravado. "I assumed you'd roll your eyes and leave. Or slap me."

She almost had. She doesn't want to think about why she didn't.

"Anything else on your mind, Swan?"

She can hardly keep her thoughts straight, not after his admission, and so she goes for the easy one. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Emma never thought someone could lie with a shrug, but the casual gesture is another plate of armor in front of him. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"The future. I suspect there's not much piracy to be found in Storybrooke."

It takes a moment for her tired mind to catch up, but when it does her heart catches in her chest. She'd been so caught up in saving Henry and her own foul thoughts that she hadn't given a moment's consideration to the man sitting next to her, the one who'd turned his ship around and helped save her son, and her father. The man who was about to be stuck for the rest of his life in an unfamiliar realm with the man he'd spent centuries trying to kill. Stuck with the vengeance he'd given up for Henry. For her.

Fuck.

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't even - "

"Don't worry about me, Swan. I know you've had more pressing matters on your mind recently." His eyes fall to the floor. "And you were right. It was nice to be a part of something, for once."

She can't stop the words from coming and she doesn't want to. "You still are."

His head snaps up and she's seen this look before but never this intense, the naked longing in his eyes so clear it nearly takes her breath away. He stares for a heartbeat, for two, for three, and then he's leaning in, a sharp movement at first before he catches himself and slowly closes the distance between them, the tip of his nose just brushing hers.

He waits for a long moment, waiting for her to close the distance, waiting for her to pull away, just waiting, warm breaths puffing over her lips as his eyes fall to her mouth and lift back up again. Her eyes drift closed when his hand finds her hair, thumb just grazing over her cheek as he presses his mouth to hers.

He kisses her the same way his hand cups her jaw, slow and soft and tentative. It's different yet again from the other times they've done this, the first desperate and frantic and the second deep and erotic. Now his mouth moves like he's trying to hold onto her, trying to stop her from running, soft little pulls at her lower lip before he presses in again.

She's wants to assure him, to tell him she's not going to run, but she can't find it in her to pull away.

Her hand finds the back of his hair and she tilts her head, pushing in deeper and sighing when he hums into her mouth, a gratifying sound that vibrates through her as his tongue finds hers. It's easy, so easy to be like this with him, sliding together and pulling apart only to return even deeper, and she's just contemplating straddling his lap when he gently presses her back against the mattress, settling between her legs and letting his mouth drift over her jaw, his stubble a welcome scratch against her skin.

When his lips find that perfect spot just below her ear she rolls her hips up against his and slides her hands beneath his shirt and up his back. They both groan softly at the contact but keep their voices down; the walls in the cabins are thin and they don't dare risk waking the others.

His skin is hot to the touch but it's not enough, she wants to feel it bare against her own, and she struggles to lift his shirt over his head. It's nearly off when it snags against his hook and he has to stop her, carefully dislodging the delicate fabric from his wrist so as not to tear it. He grins down at her in amusement but his eyes widen when she reaches down and pulls her tank top over her head, tossing it aside.

She briefly considers asking him to remove his hook and brace but he's already shown her so much tonight, volunteered more of himself than she thought she'd ever see and it's enough for now, enough to enjoy the look on his face as he takes her in.

"Bloody hell, Emma," he murmurs, his face a little awed at the sight of her beneath him. He fingers at the thin strap of her bra, sliding it down over her shoulder and leaning down to press his lips to the bare skin there, slowly tracing down until he's caressing the tops of her breasts. His mouth is no less electric on the rest of her as it is on her lips, a soft, wet heat that threatens to unravel her at the seams.

His hips press down beneath her thighs once more and she can't stand it, not with so many layers between him and where she's aching the most. She reaches down to fumble with the laces of his leathers, loosening the strings and pulling them down over his hips. "Off. Get these off right now."

He smiles, a simple, delighted expression she's never seen from him before. "Only if you do the same, love."

She misses the heat of him when he rolls off her to completely undress but she removes her pants and boots in record time and unhooks her bra for good measure, tossing the garment aside as he leans over her once more. She glances down to enjoy the view, at how fit he is, running her hands over sun-kissed skin and dark hair on his chest and enjoying the hitch in his breath when she reaches lower, gently stroking over soft skin but not fully taking him in hand, not yet. She chuckles and draws her hand back up.

"You'll be the death of me," he groans into her neck.

"Maybe that can wait just a little while?" she teases, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

"Perhaps." He lifts his head and looks down, drinking in his fill of her, his hand sliding between her breasts and then lower, tickling at her abdomen and venturing over her thigh before sliding back up, settling between her legs with the lightest of touches.

She sighs and lets her head fall back as he works at her gently. She knows this touch, the slow tease of his fingers over sensitive skin only to dip inside and curl up and slide out again and she has to bite her lip against it, her breaths coming in short little gasps.

"Someday I'll get to hear the noises you truly make, Swan," he grins before dipping his head to claim her mouth once more. "You do love my fingers, don't you?"

She does love it, still dreams of it, when he made her come apart under the vast skies of Neverland, but that's not all she wants. She tugs at his lip with her teeth. "I'd love your mouth more."

He chuckles against her jaw. "And I love when a woman knows what she wants."

And then he's sliding down, pausing only for a brief detour at her breasts, his thumb teasing and his lips soothing just enough to make her crave more before continuing his path downward. She can't stop squirming under his touch, not when his tongue slides over her abdomen and not when he draws one leg over his shoulder and settles in, the cool curve of his hook tracing up her ribs. He casts her a wicked grin before leaning down, his lips slowly closing over her and his tongue pressing against her clit.

She'd known he'd be brilliant at this from how he kissed her, craved it from the first moment he touched her, but his mouth is hot and sure against her and it's devastating, the way he works her over. Her hand finds his hair and her hips cant up into his face and she's never been all that noisy in bed but it takes everything in her to keep quiet, the only noises in the cabin her labored breath and the sound of his lips against her.

It felt so different last time, a surreal quality to their tryst in the jungle that almost felt like a dream, something Emma could push away and pretend never happened. But nothing had ever felt so real as his hand on her thigh, his mouth on her skin, a bright light behind her eyes shining on them and forcing her to look, forcing her to feel, forcing her to acknowledge it. It's impossible not to, the little jolts that crawl up her spine and make her twitch against him, the gleam in his eye when she looks down and sees that he's watching her.

"Jesus, Killian." Her head drops back and she drowns in it as he redoubles his efforts, licking and sucking and holding her steady against him. Her toes curl and her muscles tense and then she's gone, warmth coursing through her in a flood as she pulses against him, her nails scratching at his scalp when she tenses with it and her hand falling away when the knot he'd so tightly wound her into loosens, slowly unraveling as he brings her down with soft laps of his tongue.

He presses one last kiss between her legs, one last tired twitch of her hips before he's climbing above her once more, grinning down at her while her heartbeat threatens to burst out of her skin, buzzing down to the tips of her toes.

She can't even say anything, just reaches up and slides a shaky hand over his face. His expression softens just before he leans down. His lips are wet and she doesn't care, tasting herself on him and letting him press her into the sheets. "Bloody stunning," he murmurs into her mouth before delving in again, tongue stroking hers in a hot slide that leaves her grasping at his back.

He gasps against her lips when she reaches down and takes him in hand and she grins against his mouth, sliding her fingers over the tip of his length before grasping him once more. "Do you want - I can - " she starts before his mouth covers hers once more.

"I'd rather be inside you, love." There's a new rush between her legs at his words, but he mistakes the tensing of her muscles for something else. "Unless you're concerned about - we can - "

She too far gone to explain the intricacies of IUDs to him, just grabs his face and pulls him to her again. "No, I'm good," she breathes between kisses. "I can't get - there's, uh, this medicine I take and…"

He thankfully catches on and saves her from babbling even more, but it's not enough for him. "Are you sure, Emma?"

"God yes, I want you, just - " she sits up and he leans back with her, going even further when she pushes him back to sit on his heels. "Like this," she tells him, straddling his lap and lifting herself up. She watches his eyes drift shut as she lowers herself onto him, sinking down on a deep-seated exhale and draping her arms over his shoulders. "Good?" she asks, her voice breathy and broken as she lifts up and slides down again, and she knows the answer because he feels incredible inside her, warm and slick and dragging against her insides in the most delicious way, finally filling the void that's been aching ever since he first kissed her.

"Perfect," he breathes against her throat, his hand sliding up her back and pressing between her shoulderblades.

And it is perfect, the steady pace she sets against him as he rises to meet her as best he can in this position, short, sure strokes perfectly timed with her own. His mouth is restless against her skin, buried first in her throat and then her shoulder, and back to her lips once more when she settles down against him to give her burning thighs a rest, him fully seated in her as his hips roll up in easy circles and her hands in his hair force him to tilt his head back further.

He guides her back to the mattress when he realizes she's tiring, his hand sliding beneath the small of her back to lift her up as he presses inside, hard, heavy strokes that don't let up when he finds the angle that leaves her pressing her heel into the back of his thigh, the one that makes her fingernails dig into his back.

There's just enough friction against her nerves, just enough of that perfect drag inside her to set her off again. He smiles against her lips even as his hips stutter when she clenches around him, and his hand grips her thigh as she seizes up and then relaxes, involuntary pulses running through her in pleasurable little aftershocks. "That's it, love." His voice is tight and she's just come down when he twitches against her, burying his face against her throat and swallowing down a moan that comes out as a strangled sigh. She keeps her hands in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp and pushing the fringe from his forehead as he comes down, his chest heaving in tandem against hers.

They don't talk for awhile, just lie wrapped up in one another, her hands still carding through his hair while he recovers. This is new to Emma too, the desire to curl herself around her lover and simply fall asleep, cleanup and awkward goodbyes and false promises to call be damned.

But she can't, not here, not on this ship surrounded by everyone she knows, every member of her family and then some. A tiny bit of anger flares within her then, that she can't just have this, can't just keep Killian to herself for a little while, but it subsides when he lifts his head and brushes his lips against hers. One day she'll think of how remarkable it is that he can do that for her, but for now she simply allows the calm to settle into her bones when he kisses her like this.

"You can't stay here long, Emma," he says, and she stiffens underneath him in surprise. She thought she'd be the one convincing him she had to leave, but -

"Baelfire will be back down in a few hours," he continues. "I'm to relieve him at the helm halfway through the night."

"Oh," she finally says, her weight sagging back into the mattress in relief. "Okay."

He smiles, lazy and sated. "Did you think I'd be so eager to be rid of you?"

Her lips twitch up as her thumb strokes his temple. "No, I just… old habits die hard."

He considers her, blue eyes filled with mirth. "Perhaps it's time you found a new habit, then."

It's a terrible line, but her smile widens anyway. "Perhaps."

It's another hour and a half before she finally leaves, after Killian shows her just how addictive new habits can be.