A/N: In celebration of Once being renewed for season 6, here's some domestic Captain Swan… for science :)
"You'll be back in two hours, right?"
"Yes, I've said that three times already."
"I know, but when you said it, you didn't sound very sure. Promise it'll be two hours?"
"I promise."
Emma smiled to herself as she swiped the keys off of the kitchen counter. As terrifyingly brave as Killian could be on the high seas, there was something uniquely endearing about watching him fret over household appliances. She'd never left him home alone before, but her mom had invited her out to lunch, just the two of them, and since Henry was out with Violet, she'd decided to take the opportunity…
Little had she known the impact it would have on her boyfriend.
"You know what to do, Killian. Don't you?"
He gave her a sheepish grin. "Would you mind going over it with me again? Just so I don't forget? Your mom won't mind too much, will she?"
Emma sighed and put down the keys. This could take a while. "Okay, just one more time."
Emma slid the remote into Killian's hand, watching his eyes widen at the colorful array of buttons. "Don't panic. We've talked about this before. Circle and line is power on. One set of arrows makes it louder, the other set changes the channel."
"This is the most needlessly complicated contraption I've ever seen," he complained. "Why are they all different colors? Why would you even need this many buttons to turn the color screen on, stare at it, and turn it off?"
She chuckled. "Don't worry about it." She turned the screen off and gestured towards him. "Okay, now turn it back on."
He fumbled with the apparatus for a moment, his eyes skirting over all of the buttons. His thumb slammed down on the power button.
Nothing happened.
"You have got to be kidding me," he whined. "What's the point of this color stick if it can't even operate the color box properly?"
Stifling a laugh, Emma slipped her hand on top of his. "You have to point the remote at the TV and then tell it what you want to do, Killian. Remember? Point and click." She guided his hand up, and as they moved in harmony, she felt the warm heat of his breath tickling her neck. Together, they pressed the on button, and the screen whirred to life. The two of them collapsed back onto the couch - Emma with a satisfied smirk, Killian with a pout.
"But why do we even need this box when we can get food at Granny's?" Killian was scrutinizing the microwave so intensely that Emma was worried it would combust any second.
She slid her hand gently up onto his shoulder. "Killian, we can do this." She opened the microwave. "We can't buy lunch at Granny's all the time, so we need something that will give us food quickly when we need it in a pinch."
He tilted his head so that his cheek brushed across her hand. Emma's heart fluttered. "If we're in between battling snow monsters and saving the town, you mean?"
A rosy blush stole up her cheeks involuntarily, and she bit her lip to keep him from having the satisfaction that he was getting to her. Never in her wildest dreams could she have fathomed that a home-survival lesson could be this romantic. She sure knew how to pick them.
Inhale. Exhale.
She tapped on the microwave panel. "You press this to open it, then put the food in, and select how long you want to microwave it for. I left a list of your favorite snacks and how long to put them in for on the counter, in case you forget."
Killian bit his lip. "Got it." His brow furrowed as he fixated on the microwave. "Anything else?"
"Yes. No metal in the microwave, no matter what."
He extended his other hand, lifting the stray blonde curls draped over her chest and pushing them over her shoulder. "Sounds good to me, Swan."
Focus.
After going through pretty much every household appliance larger than her thumb, Emma finally made her way back to the counter. "It's been almost thirty minutes, Killian. Mom's going to kill me. Are we done?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, cocky. "I suspect so." Worry suddenly rippled across his features. "But what if I need to tell you something while you're gone?"
Emma sighed. "You use the phone, like I told you." She'd picked out the simplest model possible for him with a limited set of functions - call, end call, on, off. Somehow, he still managed to get confused, even though there were no more than five total contacts. She'd desperately tried to teach him speed dial, but he kept forgetting how to call her - so she'd had to leave a little Post-It note taped to the back of the phone. 3 - EMMA!
Come to think of it, she'd pretty much exhausted a lifetime supply of Post-Its just trying to pirate-proof the house. There were so many things that could go wrong, and she'd tried to account for them all - turn off the lights when you leave a room. No sports indoors. NO OVEN.
It was tedious work, she couldn't deny it. But it was work she'd do again and again, if it meant waking up every morning in her cozy blue house with her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.
Hopefully for the final time, she swiped the keys off of the counter and moved towards the door. "Two hours, Killian. Don't blow up the house or anything."
He still looked slightly troubled, but she figured a little experience around the house alone might do him good. Sharply, he raised his arm into a clumsy salute. "Aye aye, captain."
Nervously, Emma set two fingers on the doorbell and pushed it down gently. She didn't want to scare him; the last time he heard it ring, he jumped two feet out of his chair and asked her if another curse was coming. She'd come back ten minutes early, just in case; her mom hadn't been too pleased about it, but she figured it was necessary given the nature of her absence.
The door was flung open. Emma braced herself for another flurry of questions, but no amount of Post-It notes could have prepared her for the goofy grin on her pirate boyfriend's face. "Emma! You're home!" He scooped her up off the doorstep into a tight embrace. She breathed in deeply - he smelled like burnt popcorn, but otherwise looked intact. So far, so good.
Emma gingerly took a few steps into the house. Everything looked in one piece - the TV was blaring, the volume a little higher than she'd like, and he'd left the popcorn packet on the counter, but other than that…
She looked back at Killian, who was watching her expectantly, and gave him a nod of approval. "I'm impressed."
Killian grinned back at her. "I thought you would be. Look how well I did! No metal in the microwave, point and click, and I didn't need to use the Emma button once… I even learned how to use the answer machine."
"Answer machine?"
He gasped, genuine shock glinting in his eyes. "You don't know about it? Come on, I'll show you - it's the best thing since the Flick Net program you showed me last week."
Killian yanked Emma's hand toward the inside of the house and guided her into the study. "Ta-da!" Triumphantly, he gestured towards the computer, which currently had approximately fifteen tabs open. After minimizing all of them, Emma saw that the desktop background had been replaced with a picture of the two of them by the sea. Killian had one hand looped around her shoulders and the other nested in her hair, playing with it like he usually did when he got antsy. Emma's eyes were looking half dreamily at the cameraman and half irritatedly at Killian. It wasn't the most functional picture of the two of them, but it was her favorite.
"I asked your boy how many seconds I was supposed to put the popcorn in - your sticky paper list disappeared, through no fault of mine - and he told me to ask the machine. Look!" He jabbed at the keyboard until "Google" pulled up. With one hand, he poked at the keys until he'd typed out "How long does the popcorn go in the warming spin contraption?"
Emma couldn't hide her smile this time. "That's amazing, Killian."
"Isn't it? Now, you don't have to be worried about me when you go out."
She laced her fingers into his. "I think I'll always be worried about you, Killian, no matter what." Sighing contentedly, she pressed a kiss onto his somewhat greasy cheek.
He looked up at her solemnly. "Good. There's one question I forgot to ask: the 'Do-Not-Touch' oven also dries clothes, right? Because that's where I put yours."