It's no secret to anyone in Storybrooke (Killian included) that he would do anything that Emma asked of him (and that is why, he thinks bitterly, the Dark One implied that he was merely a lovesick puppy, trailing it's owner throughout town). He may have been lovesick - there is no other explanation for his behavior this past year, both with and without Emma - but at the end of the day, he knows his own heart and his own intentions better than that crocodile. He wants to help Emma; he wants her to know that there are people that will be there for her, because much like her, he has spent days without a tether or an anchor, and if he can be that for her (if she wants him be that for her) -
"What do you think?" she asks, and he looks away from the dingy tile that he's been staring at, focuses back on her. She is waiting for his answer, eyes wide and expression earnest, and he stumbles to find something to say.
When Emma called him that morning, when she asked him to help with something, he didn't expect it to be looking for new lodgings for herself and her lad. Killian tries not to think too hard about the implications (I have got to get my own place, she said when they kissed outside her parents' door, her eyes closed and her fingers tracing his jaw, thumb against his pulse point) and to focus on some of the experience that three-hundred years of living have surely given him. He falls short, though, because he always had a place to stay, and if not a place than an inn nearby, a room let to him for a few piece of silver (or gold, if he wanted something nicer) and that is still the way of things. But he tries.
"Do you really want to live here, Swan?" Killian asks with an arched eyebrow, because while he may not know anything about finding permanent lodgings, he can give advice on the place's condition. And that condition is not fit for anyone, let alone Emma - the device that heats the room (the radiator, Emma tells him) makes odd noises every so often that cause Emma frown, the galley space is quiet small, and there are few windows. Killian is used to an open deck, space for him to breathe, and it feels as if this apartment will suffocate him (he cannot imagine what it will do to Emma).
Emma takes another look around, and then sighs. "You're right," she admits. "I don't." And when she turns back towards him, crossing the space between them with a few steps, she reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently. "Come on, let's return the key to the landlord and go to the next one."
She does not let go of his hand as they depart; instead, she entwines her fingers with his, and his heart leaps then falls at the gesture. It is unexpected, that she would touch him so frequently, and which such intent, and he does not know what to do. It is a mere day after their date, and his disastrous attempt at trying to be whole for her. She does not know the deal he made, or the actions he took against that (presumably innocent) man, and he does not know how to tell her. He does not like keeping things secret from her, but she is so focused, so utterly intent on this quest to find a new place that he cannot tell her, not today.
They visit two more locations, and each comes with a new gesture of affection: her hand on his arm when he points out that this one does have a lovely view of the next door neighbor's bathroom window, a playful tug on his charms when he comments about the size of the bedrooms at the next location. His body betrays him with each action, leaning into her touch despite his despicable deeds, fingers brushing against her hand as she reaches for him. This new intimacy is staggering to him (it has been so long since someone touched him willingly, or allowed him to touch them in such a way, delicately and with care) and with each moment he falls deeper in love with her, and deeper into his own fears about his foolishness. He will have to tell her, he knows that much, but the words will not come to his mind, and so he banters, insinuates, praises and admires in the meantime.
The last potential home is near the water, and when he smells the crisp sea breeze, it eases some of the turmoil in his soul. There are a small string of cottages not far from the pier, and Emma leads him to the last one in the row, painted a light blue. She opens the door with the key given to them by the property owner (surprisingly not the Dark One, but rather a captain of a small fishing ship looking to make some extra income). They step into a bright room, and Killian lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding.
He hears Emma gasps, and knows that this might be the place.
There is a hallway that leads through the small house, but there are wide windows and high ceilings, and while this is not her parents' home, it is large enough for her and her boy. They weave in and out of the rooms, and for the first time Killian is pleased at the conditions - this home has been well cared for, and it will make a fitting home.
He tells her as much, and her smile brightens his spirits when she nods, agreeing with him.
"Henry found this," Emma says, "right after the curse broke. He suggested living by the water."
"Smart boy," Killian tells her, and Emma smiles, drawing closer. She wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him, smile wide and happy. "Thanks for all your help," she says, angling her face upwards to kiss him, and he cannot turn down the invitation.
The kiss is soft and easy, and he enjoys the way that she fits into him, the way that she curls her body into his own,hands against his back, lips moving against his. His hook rests on her hip, his hand cups her jaw, and he tries not to think about having two hands to hold her (it will haunt him forever, he knows this was an acuteness that hurts) and focuses on her, the way that she gasps a little when he pulls her closer to him, the way that she moves her hand into his hair (he likes that, just as much as he likes her). This is enough, this can be enough -
It is enough, and it will be enough, and he hates that he thought that he could never been enough for her, not when it is clear that she doesn't mind the hook, when she breaks the kiss and smiles at him with a lazy, kiss-drunk smile, not when she wraps her arm around his back and leads him out of the space, her head resting against his shoulder. It is enough when she takes him back to Granny's for a celebratory lunch, sitting next to him in the booth instead of across from him, hip against hip, stealing his french fries and signaling to all the world that they are here, together, and she does not care.
He wishes he could be the person she thinks he is, who doesn't make bargains when demons and doesn't trap himself into deals that cannot be undone, but he's still a pirate and always will be, and that's the problem. Every time he tries to be selfless, he ends up being selfish instead, and there's a bitterness that lingers in his mouth at that thought, even as Emma talks to him about what furniture she'll need and what color she'll paint the bedrooms.
Killian takes a sip of his water, focuses his attention on Emma once more. Today is not the day for his own melancholy. Today is about her, and her new life, the one that she is welcoming him into with open arms.
He will tell her about his mistake tomorrow.