She's trembling so hard he's afraid she might fall to pieces right in front of him, in the well-lit living room, all over the soft rug she picked out only a couple of weeks ago after hours of indecision and 'but isn't this one gonna be easier to wash?' He remembers. He was there, with all of his non-existent experience in rug-purchasing.

"Swa-"

She whirls around, an angry and slightly unstable finger pointed at him.

"No. You do not get to talk!"

"I-"

"No!"

"Em-"

"NO!" she advances on him suddenly and her finger sure as hell doesn't seem that unstable when she jabs it into his chest. Repeatedly. "People who get themselves killed do not get to talk!"

He's caught somewhere between huffing in exasperation and rolling his eyes. He decides against a second near-death experience today and does neither.

He remembers coming to with a start. Not the way you wake up from a nightmare. Oh, no, much faster. The way a car hits you. He wishes he didn't know how that feels like. But the aftermath at least was quite different. No broken bones, just shivers running down his body, running away from the inferno that were Emma's lips, pressed firmly, almost viciously against his.

He would have liked a moment to celebrate the fact that he was alive, that the woman he loved was kissing him, that they were True Love. He wouldn't have turned down a bone crushing hug, a few more kisses, perhaps some breathless exchange of loving oaths between them. He had read Henry's book and while he would never even entertain the idea of telling Snow that, he's pretty sure they can top 'the glass coffin kinda gave me pause' quite easily, amused as he had been by the queen's sass.

No such luck. He barely felt the last traces of ice slither off him when Emma shoved him none too gently away from her and stomped in the direction of their apartment. He is thanking his lucky stars that their only audience were David and Will. Or, come to think of it, that was the worst bloody audience they could have had but he was too busy chasing after his savior to deal with them.

And now… well, he doesn't really see a breathless exchange of loving oaths in his near future.

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

She slaps him.

He keeps his head to the side for a full minute, clenching his jaw and trying to hold on to his elation from minutes ago. They were True Love dammit! He was not getting into a fight with her now.

Thankfully, when he does turn around it seems that Emma has given up on pursuing that path too, if the misty and slightly guilty look directed at his burning cheek is any indication.

He doesn't want her to feel guilty, he just wants her to explain wh-

In the next moment her lips are on his, one hand sliding up his neck, the other around his waist. She jerks him closer to her so sharply he lets out a little gasp in her mouth. Emma loses no time taking advantage of that and slipping her tongue inside his mouth, tangling it with his. His hand is in her hair, his left forearm resting on her hip. For some reason he is still hesitant to pull her closer.

He wants her. Understatement of the bloody year. He always wants her. But right now he wants to talk more. Wants to know if she is scared because of what is now blatantly staring them in the face, if she will run as soon as they are done the way he feared she would the first time they came together. She didn't run then. He is terrified that she will now.

Talking obviously isn't on Emma's agenda as she finally unglues her body from his and relieves him of his jacket before he can catch his breath. And then her mouth is seeking his again, biting lightly on his bottom lip and sucking it inside her mouth, hands already half-done with the buttons on his shirt. He finally finds his voice again when she releases his lips only to promptly lose it again when she moves on to his neck, licking, biting, sucking.

Bloody hell! He was supposed to talk to her about something. What was he supposed to talk to her about?

He groans under her ministrations, hands still hanging limply by his side as he just lets her devour him, unable to shake off the fog of lust pervading his mind.

"Killian," her whine shoots through his jumbled thoughts. "Baby, come on. I need…"

She doesn't finish, just tugs at his shirt, making the last two buttons fly off to the side. She's in the process of transferring her mouth to his now exposed chest and he seizes the millisecond her lips are not impeding the formation of any sort of coherent thought and takes two steps backwards, back hitting the door and fuck, they didn't even make it past the doorway.

"Lass, stop! We need to…" he sucks in a deep breath, panting and trying not to look at her kiss-swollen lips and heaving chest. "We need to talk."

She growls. She literally growls at him, advancing forward and planting her hands on his chest.

"You want me to yell at you for dying on me?!"

"I didn't-" her look nips that line of thought right in the bud.

Right. Not the time for a semantic discussion on what constitutes dying and what doesn't.

"I believe we should talk about what happened after," he says exasperatedly, literally swallowing the 'love' that wants to attach itself to the end of that sentence.

"I thawed your stupid ass and now I'm trying to warm it up some more," she states matter-of-factly, hands slipping lower, lower.

"Yeah, but-"

Was that thud his head hitting the door? When had he closed his eyes? Dammit!

"Emma!" his hand comes up to her shoulder to hold her from completely merging her body with his.

She doesn't seem to notice and it's only now that he indicates the desperate quality to her touch. The slight tremble that is still going through her frame.

"Oh, Swan," he feels his heart twist in his chest because he is a selfish bastard, thinking only about his dream coming true and not realizing that she had to pay the prize for it. "Look at me."

She does so almost immediately but her fingers are digging into his sides and he can see the tears she is doing her damnest to hold back.

"I'm here. I'm right here, sweetheart. You saved me."

"You're still an idiot," she says and it's her trembling lip that forces him to be the one to close the small distance between them and tuck her into his side.

"I know. I promise, I'll work harder on hiding it."

Her laugh is choked but it's there none the less. He counts it as a small victory.

"You saved me," the awe slips into his voice as her scent assaults his senses, making his muscles loosen the way they haven't since before being frozen.

"Well, to use Henry's new favourite word, 'duh'," she sounds kinda annoyed from her place, chin resting on his shoulder. "Are we gonna have another 'given our history' conversation? 'Cause I think by now our history should indicate that I much prefer you breathing and kicking or, you know, kissing."

She plants a soft kiss against his collarbone as if to illustrate her point.

"Yes, but…" his voice is strained and bugger it all, he doesn't wanna say it, doesn't wanna push her, but they can't just ignore it. "You kissed me… to save me."

"Yes, that's also becoming a bit of a pattern, I believe."

Alright. Now he was just plain annoyed. She can't really think they can pretend that wasn't what it was, right?"

"Emma, your kiss saved me. Your kiss! The power of…"

"True Love," she states as if it's not the most monumental thing in their lives. "Yesss, I know. That's how it works, you idiot. Come on, you read Henry's book."

"Yes," he tries to reign in the desire to shake her and yell that 'This is big, Swan! Why are you not losing your mind with me over this?!'"But that means we are…"

"True Love," and there's that matter-of-fact voice that's currently driving him up the bloody wall. "Yes, Killian, I know. Can we move to the warming you up part now?"

She pushes his shirt off his shoulders and he just lets it fall, staring at her like she has lost her mind.

"That's it?" he asks, the hysterical note in his voice finally breaking through. "We're True Love, let's have sex? Emma! This is not… this is the… I mean, there's no…"

The good thing is that she's finally looking at him. The bad – she seems terribly amused.

"There's no going back from it," he sighs, his shoulders dropping and skies above, he hopes she gets it now.

Her eyes soften, part of the amusement shifting into so warm an affection he think this look alone could have melted his frozen heart.

"You weren't sure?" she asks, voice soft with a mixture of wonder and unrestrained fondness and-

"You knew?!"

He doesn't know what to think about this. Had she used her magic to find out somehow, had her parents done it, what the-

"You didn't even suspect?"

And just like that her voice is all wrong, anxious and just on this side of hurt and her brows are furrowed painfully.

"I-" he feels his own eyes sting because he wants to take it all back, to just succumb to her burning touch and desperate lips and keep his bloody mouth shut. "In New York… when I tried…"

If it's possible, her face breaks even further and why couldn't he just stop talking. Only now she doesn't seem to hurt for herself as much as for him and her hands are reaching for his face and her thumbs are brushing his cheeks and fuck, he knows he hasn't done a single thing in his miserable life to deserve her.

"You read the book, Killian," she repeats fervently, somehow managing to look both frustrated with him and sympathetic at the same time. "True Love's Kiss doesn't work with memory loss."

And it's like a door has been opened in his mind. A door that was always there, he was just scared to touch the doorknob and let the light behind it pour into his sun-deprived eyes.

"So you knew?" he asks and he doesn't think his tone expresses the amount of shock he is in.

Emma seems to sense that he is not exactly taking it all in stride and just nods, brushing his nose with hers and giving him her 'you're an idiot but you're my idiot' smile. He think it might mean 'you're my idiot and I love you', thinks it might have always meant that.

"How long?"

Her brows furrow a little again and he can tell she hasn't really pondered the question before and it makes his heart beat even faster, the thought that she just felt like the knowledge had always been there, that she just woke up one morning and knew.

"Partly since I saw us in the book together," she says with a far-away look, talking to herself as much as him. "Partly since Zelena tried to kill you. Partly since I remembered in New York."

Her eyes focus back on him and there's a light blush spreading over her cheeks, just a trace of embarrassment in her eyes.

"Partly since I saw you."

"Me too," he blurts out because the memory is so clear in his mind, her golden hair, her bright eyes, she has been the sun chasing away his darkness from the moment he saw her.

She gives him a look.

"It's true, swan… all the way until New York," he says and watches her eyes do that thing again, like her heart is breaking because he thought… "And even after. I always thought you just needed more time."

She shakes her head and stands up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. And, yes, he'd like to get back on that track now so he wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the floor, and is rewarded with her little yelp of surprise and excitement, and her legs wrapping around his waist.

He stumbles in the direction of their bedroom. Mumbling words like 'minx', 'always knew', 'bloody siren', 'keeping such secrets', while her nails leave their marks on his naked back.

Once she is laying back on the soft mattress he loses no time in helping her catch up with his state of undresses and advancing further, further, until her milky skin is melting beneath his calloused fingers, her little whimpers only drawing harsher groans from him.

When he finally sinks into her, they are both breathless and trembling and bloody hell, he swears her skin is molten lava and his body her very own Pompeii (he might have gotten too deep into Henry's volcanos research).

His hand grips her hip and he sets a bruising rhythm because he need to feel her and she keeps asking for more, and her fingers know each and every sensitive spot of his and she is deliberately driving him insane. He's only vaguely aware that he keeps whispering 'I'm here's in her ear and she is alternating her rare 'baby' with 'my love' and it's absolutely breaking him. They are both on the verge of blacking out after they come and he crashes on top of her, every inch of his skin sinking into hers.

And when he tries to lift himself her arms tighten around his waist and she throws a leg over his to keep him where he is. And he stays.

/

The morning after their True Love's Kiss the transactions at Granny's go like this:

Snow hands Henry, Ruby and Granny a 20.

Will pays both Regina and Robin a 10.

Ruby gets another 20 from Whale and one from Grumpy as well.

David pockets money from every single person in the dinner.

Emma states that she is declaring gambling in public establishments illegal.

Killian convinces her not to arrest anyone with a hot cocoa and some kisses.