Some cared, but only a few people never failed to offer encouragement, to give love and support. And then there was one lucky bastard who managed to change every aspect of Emma Swan's life, every part of the routine she had built over the years, and he got away with it. That lucky bastard in her life bore the name of Killian Jones. And Emma had no idea what she did to deserve him.

Rutledge, Georgia

They had chosen Emma's car for their road trip, not only because the yellow and quirky character mirrored their free spirits perfectly, but also because Emma couldn't just leave her behind. They had gone through so much together and it felt wrong to not include her first and only car in such a pivotal time of her life. The Bug was a tough one, but she was of a certain age as well and things tended to unexpectedly go wrong with her.

"Killian, wake up!" Emma shouted to the back couch where Killian lay asleep.

The shock that had vibrated through the car had not had any effect or impact on him, so she had no other choice than yell. Slowly returning from the land of slumber, Killian blinked, clearly not understanding why Emma had forced him to wake up. He sat a bit straighter while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Huh?" he said, or murmured, asking her what was happening or what had happened with that single sound.

"We ran out of gas."

Though the Bug had its flaws, she couldn't be blamed for breaking down. This was Emma's fault. She should've checked the fuel meter more often and she shouldn't have missed their original exit, prolonging the travel time and she shouldn't have let the music bring her into some sort of a driving trance.

Killian's dark hair was a mess and his eyes still looked sleepy as he leaned over the seat separating them and peered at the red blinking light.

"Where are we?" he slightly rumbled, before clearing his throat.

"Somewhere in Georgia, I think an hour from Atlanta."

The road they were driving on was tiny and looked quite deserted. There was long grass adorning both sides of the road and trees stood alternately with tall lampposts. Emma had driven past their original exit and the fastest way to reach Atlanta was to follow this road. Downside of her impromptu change was that the close vicinity was completely void of gas stations.

To keep herself from frantically fidgeting, Emma ran her hands through her hair, her breathing rushed and distressed. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. "Calm down, Swan. I'm sure we'll find a way to fix it."

Pulling the handle, Emma got out of the car and reclined the car seat so that Killian was freed from the back. As elegantly as he could, he crawled out and firmly planted his two feet on the concrete of the hard shoulder.

After both of them obediently followed the safety rules, putting the orange triangle in front of their car and wearing the abhorrent fluorescent jackets, Emma and Killian sat on the Bug's hood, peering around for anyone, a car, bus or even a motorcycle. Anyone who could help.

Emma rested her head against his shoulder.

"Swan, don't feel guilty," he said to her.

"I never said I did."

Killian's dark eyebrow arched a bit as he gave her that look. The look that told her he knew her like no one else. The look that reminded her why they were best friends.

The moment Killian had suddenly appeared in her life had been the perfect one. She needed someone. Mary Margaret was great and amazing and every other positive adjective Emma could think of, but she was also vastly different from her. In a way, their opposed personalities were what made their bond so strong but Emma yearned for someone who understood. Completely, without needing an explanation or a heartfelt conversation. When she looked back at that time now, she realized she simply needed Killian.

"It could've happened to me as well."

Emma grunted in reluctance. He was actually going to make her pretend that this wasn't all her own dumb fault.

"Uhuh," she said, but nor her face, nor the way she said it resembled anything remotely close to agreement.

Killian chuckled. The sound was domestic, it made her relive a compilation of moments back in Storybrooke, back in her apartment, moments with loud laughter and friendship. Disregarding the homesickness that was burrowed somewhere inside of her, it made Emma feel good.

He had been in a mood recently, quiet and distant in a way. It started somewhere in New York but she couldn't put her finger on what caused it. He was more distant and brusque, far from the Killian she knew. Emma had wished he would just talk. They had reached a consensus; no more demons. So why did Killian keep the thing that was bothering him a secret?

"There's a car coming."

Emma slid off the car, steadying her weight back on the ground. His hands pushing himself off of the hood, Killian followed the movement.

"Maybe I should be the one asking for help," Emma suggested, "If it's a male driver, chances of him stopping would increase considerably."

Killian contorted his face in disgust but Emma saw the agreement creep upon his expression. He had to admit that she was right, even though if the reasons for it were completely wrong and disgusting.

"Go ahead, Swan," he sighed with reluctance as he went back to sit on the yellow Bug.

Raising her hand, Emma waved at the incoming car, fervently hoping that the driver would stop and not race by in a flash, ignoring their existence completely. At first, it seemed like that was exactly going to happen and she was about to turn back around and rejoin Killian, but suddenly the blue car slowed down and halted by theirs. Emma nearly cheered in excitement.

She approached the car and the light blonde woman sitting at the wheel. The window lowered with a zooming sound and Emma bent to address her.

"Hi," she started, "Thank you for stopping. We ran out of gas and now we're stuck here. Would you mind helping us?"

"Oh, of course not." The woman's nose and forehead creased as she thought. The crinkle smoothed and she spoke. "There's a gas station about 6 miles from her. If you want, I could drive you there and back."

"That would be great!" Emma turned her head away from the window and spoke to Killian. "Killian! Killian, she's going to help us." Their savior peered through her other window, trying to see the person Emma was addressing.

"That's my best friend Killian," Emma aided. "I'm Emma, by the way." She extended her hand and the pale woman shook it.

"Elsa," she introduced herself.

"Could we both come with?" Emma asked her question hesitantly.

"There's enough room in the back, so sure," Elsa agreed.

Emma called Killian and motioned for him to come. He closed the door and locked the Bug before walking over. Emma seated herself next to the driver's seat and Killian dove into the back. The radio softly buzzed, playing a Mumford & Sons song that Elsa lightly hummed to. The silence wasn't uncomfortable; Elsa's tendency not to pry in their business by asking where they were going or anything remotely personal felt familiar to Emma. Of course, Killian, the curious guy that he was, did do exactly that.

"So Elsa, what were you doing on the road before picking two very distressed people up?" He propped his head between the two chairs. Elsa briefly turned her head towards him before letting her eyes return to the road.

"My sister lives in Savannah with her husband and son and I went to visit," she answered.

It perplexed Emma that Elsa immediately opened up by telling something, that she replied to the question without any aversion. The woman seemed a bit distant, wary of strangers as Emma always called it when describing herself.

During their first encounter, Emma had told Killian the same thing when he had wondered why she wouldn't talk to him. He'd laughed, actually laughed in response and told her his name while bowing, actually bowing. The idiot.

"Must be hard to live that far," Killian sympathized.

"It's alright," Elsa said. "I can still drive to her and we see each other every two weeks. I'm the one who moved for a job, so..."

"Oh, what do you do?" Emma asked, joining the conversation. Her interest was sparked.

Elsa's lips perked up for a second.

"I'm the CEO of an ice cube factory."

It was strange to meet someone who was around their age and actually had their life in order. Not just in order, but who had an important and impressive job. Working at Granny's or in a shipping/touring company seemed so bleak in comparison.

"That is one unusual job. Tell me, Elsa, how does one become CEO of an ice cube factory at such a young age?" Killian asked with amusement.

"I worked my way up." Elsa belittled as if her achievements were not impressive at all. "I started in the factory itself, then supervisor, manager and now CEO."

"Wow," Emma reacted. "I don't think I could ever work in an ice factory. I'd be cold 24/7."

"You really would be," Killian agreed with a chuckle.

She couldn't handle cold very well. As soon as the temperatures dropped below fifty-five degrees, she reverted to thick, wooly sweaters. She still couldn't understand how Killian did it. He wore open shirts in the middle of a Storybrooke winter, while she was dressed in four layers of clothing. And Storybrooke winters were like really snowy with lots of wind, basically twice as harsh as other winters. Those were very accurate observations Emma had calculated starting from very scientific proof.

"It's never bothered me." Elsa shrugged and Killian agreed with her, leaving Emma as the odd, only sane one may she add, one out.

They continued to chitchat until they reached the gas station Elsa told them about. It wasn't very big but that didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was that they had gasoline to revive her beloved bug. Killian left the car to take care of the purchase, leaving Emma and Elsa inside.

"So, what were you doing on that road?" Elsa inquired.

"Killian and I are on a road trip together. A quest to find ourselves, you could call it."

Emma expected Elsa to laugh, to find their goal stupid and immature, but the woman didn't. For the third time in a couple of weeks, Emma was met with understanding again.

"I know the feeling," Elsa responded. "I had the same problem, didn't really know who I was either, so I left my hometown too. Traveled around for a bit, discovered the things I liked and the things I didn't. Eventually, I just stuck in Atlanta."

The corners of Emma's lips curled as she listened to Elsa. She understood. She really understood and that feeling made her feel better. She had always wondered if she wasn't being selfish, if she hadn't just exaggerated when she wanted to do this.

"That's exactly why I am doing it," Emma said.

"What about Killian?"

"I think he's just here to support me, but I'm so happy I have him," she admitted with a broad smile. "I don't think I could've done it with anyone else."

"He seems great."

"He really is," she agreed, nodding her head. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Killian approaching and reaching to open the door. "Sometimes a bit overconfident, but overall he's tolerable."

"Swan, I heard that," Killian intervened, his tone indignant. "If anyone has to tolerate someone, it's me and your terrible eating habits."

"Oh shush. Did you get the gas?"

Killian lifted the red jug next to his face and posed next to it, his teeth exposed, making Emma roll her eyes.

"You're welcome, Swan." Killian set the jug next to him and reached for the seat belt behind him. "I say we return to the fair maiden in need of gasoline."

"Like I said," Emma faux-whispered to Elsa, "Tolerable."

Elsa laughed openly for the first time, tilting her head back and causing her braid to fall off her shoulder. She ignited the car's engine and drove back onto the road.

"Thank you, Elsa. For the drive," Emma specified.

Killian had assured her that he could handle filling up the tank by himself and getting the car to live again while she stayed inside of Elsa's car.

"Don't mention it. Have you eaten anything recently?"

"No." Emma shook her head. "Our plan was to eat in Atlanta, but, as you can see, that didn't really happen, nor did we actually get there."

"It's only about a forty-five-minute drive between here and Atlanta," Elsa calculated and turned to Emma with a faint trace of a spark in her expression. Emma's lips curled as she tilted in curiosity. "I'm quite hungry as well, so if you'd like, we could eat together. My treat," she added a bit later.

How come every person they encounter is so incredibly kind and generous towards them? They all want to help and spend time together and share stories. Elsa was a lot like Emma and Emma sensed a certain connection, like a bond between sisters. Clearly, she did not want to part from someone she felt such kinship with, but they couldn't take advantage of her in such a way.

"We can't possibly."

"I'm a CEO of an ice cube factory," Elsa reminded her. "You know how much that pays? A lot," she emphasized when Emma did not attempt to guess.

"If you insist," she began, "I suppose we can't refuse."

"No." Elsa smiled. "You cannot."

"I'll inform Killian."

-/-

Austin, Texas

The temperatures were extremely high. At first, it was fun; they rolled the windows down, put their sunglasses on and let the wind play with their hair. But after a while, the lack of proper air conditioning started taking its toll. The two large water containers they had in the car were empty after only twenty minutes of driving. Beads of sweat formed on their foreheads and slowly made their way down.

They took a break at a highway stop. Killian locked the car and walked around, stretching his legs. After nearly downing her entire supply of water, Emma really needed to use the restroom.

"I'll be back in a sec."

She hastily made her way to the toilets, that seemed very unhygienic but Emma couldn't seem to make herself care. The blinking fluorescent lights illuminated Emma's face as she scrutinized it in the mirror.

Her face no longer bore the pale skin color she thought so characteristic of herself. Somehow her freckles stood out even more against the slightly darker tone. Whereas the sun had tanned her skin, it had also lightened her hair.

With a creaking sound, the tap opened, letting out a cascade of clear water. Emma's hands captured some of it and splashed it over her face, cooling off and cleaning at the same time. She shook the drops on her hands off and returned outside. Killian sat on a picnic bench, a buffet of the shop's snacks on display.

"Take your pick." He beamed proudly.

"What a feast," Emma complimented. "What does the chef recommend?"

"The chef would suggest the ham and cheese sandwich-" Killian pushed the plastic box to her side. "-with a side dish of crisps- sorry chips," he corrected himself, "and as a dessert chocolate covered Oreos."

"Wow." Emma raised her eyebrows. "You've got a whole menu planned out, I'm impressed."

Both Killian and Emma commenced their feast, opening the crackling wrappers and munching on the temporary stomach fillers. Mary Margaret would definitely not approve; too many fast sugars, too much salt, too little vegetables. That reminds her.

"I think I'm going to call Mary Margaret. It's been a while," Emma said once they're done eating.

"It has," Killian agreed," Go for it."

Lifting her legs, Emma turned on the bench, the wood chafing her bare legs. She dialed the number as her sandaled feet walked on the dusty ground.

"Hi, Mary Margaret!" she said when the ringing abruptly ended.

"Hey, Emma," Mary Margaret greeted her as excitedly. "I miss you guys so much."

"We miss you too. A lot," Emma emphasized.

It had been over a month since they had crossed the town border and parted with their friends and the absence did sting.

"How are you?" her friend asked.

"Great," she answered. "It's amazing. We are seeing so many things and meeting so many incredible people." A smile lit up her face. "This is definitely worth it.

"That's good. Where are you now?" Mary Margaret inquired.

"We are in Texas and we're nearly in Austin. Did you get our postcards?"

Like Killian had promised to Mary Margaret, the two of them bought and sent a postcard in every big city they halted. Each one had a short story or description on it, telling the couple about their adventures on the road. It was difficult sometimes; it was a one-way form of communication, there was no instant reaction or feedback and when the cards eventually did arrive, they had long left the place depicted in the picture, crossing another state border. David and Mary Margaret couldn't send anything back to them as they were not anchored to one place or address.

"I did. The last one I got was the one you sent from Jacksonville. All of your cards now hang proudly on our fridge. But I think we're going to run out of space at some point." She laughed.

"Awesome," Emma chuckled. Her fingers played with her hair, tucking it behind her ear and releasing it. "You can expect one from New Orleans in a couple of days, I think. How's David?"

A soft sigh crossed the line. "It's been hard for him. He misses you and definitely Killian, more than he cares to admit," Mary Margaret said sadly.

"Tell him that I had to do this." A pause. "And that I love him. And give him a hug."

"I will," she promised. "I have to go now. Call me soon, sweetie, and say hello to Killian."

Emma said goodbye and hung up the call. With a bittersweet feeling locked in her chest and throat, she maundered back to Killian, who had an expectant look in his eyes and an arched brow.

"And?"

"Mary Margaret says hi and they're doing well." Her teeth created a dent in her lower lip. "Although you might want to call David because apparently he isn't really coping well."

"I'll call him right away," Killian said with a worried expression, hands immediately going to his pocket to grab his phone.

"Maybe you should wait until we're in Austin-" Raising her hand, Emma stopped him and tried to slow him down. "-because it's going to be a bit suspicious that you call right after I've finished a talk with his wife."

"True. I'll call him tonight. Back on the road?"

"Back on the road."

-/-

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Traveling was amazing but it was taking its toll on Emma. She was getting tired of constantly sitting in the car, arriving in new places and having to orient herself over and over again. She was missing Mary Margaret and David and her other friends. Killian was being perfect and he tried to make her feel better but it simply wouldn't take.

"Emma, you want to do a sing-along?" he proposed, a small smirk on his lips while the radio blasted some nineties classic.

"Nope," Emma responded, staring out of the window. "I'm in a bad mood."

It always helped to put that out there, to not mask her current state; this way no misunderstandings could appear. She was in a bad mood and his attempts to uplift her wouldn't work. Killian understood and left her alone, usually.

He tore his gaze off the road and tilted his head to her. Emma determinedly avoided his eyes, knowing that he'd try to read her and ask what was wrong and how was she supposed to answer that when she didn't even know herself.

The car braked near a little forest and Killian extinguished the engine and consequently killing the last sound that was left. The silence lingered, acidifying the atmosphere and creating an awkward tension.

"Remember how we met?" he asked, preventing the situation to spiral out of control.

A sigh left Emma's lips.

"Yeah."

"It was on the beach and-" Killian chuckled, "-you were singing an atrocious song at the top of your lungs and completely froze when you saw me, minding my own business."

"I know, Killian."

Normally, he was quite observant. He always bragged about how he could read her like an open book but Killian was so immersed in the memory now, that he did not notice her irritation. Or that she didn't feel like reminiscing right at this moment.

"You started yelling about how I was spying on you and that I should've said something instead of letting you embarrass yourself," he continued talking.

"Killian." Her voice was court. "Stop. I know how we met, alright? I was there too."

It was one of her favorite memories but it wasn't going to help with her annoyance of just about everything.

"Emma," Killian retorted. "Just let me finish." His eyebrows rose with his request. Emma let out another breath. "I was taking an honest walk on the beach and out of nowhere, I get accused of all sorts of bad form. You were a marvel, Swan. You still are. I knew that there was no way I wouldn't fall in love with you. And I was right because here I am. I love you."

It felt as if someone had just knocked all of her breath out of her. As if someone had pushed her into deep, freezing water, paralyzing her entire body and mind.

"What?" she managed to ask him.

"I'm in love with you."

So she hadn't misinterpreted his previous statement, okay. Well no, not okay. Her best friend was in love with her. That was a lot of information to process. Her best friend that she was making a road trip with. Why would he tell her this now? He could have chosen a lot of better moments. Like before they left on a road trip that forced them to spend time with each other for months.

"And you tell me this now?" Her face was writhing, the anger slowly rising inside of her and overwhelming any other sentiment and emotion. "While we're stuck with each other in a confined space for a couple of months?" Her sentence started as a normal one but the end was yelled towards him. Killian looked taken aback, what was he expecting? Did he think she would just jump in his arms and kiss him and tell him I love you too? Because that was not about to happen.

Before Killian could say something, question any of her reactions, Emma opened her door and walked away with a determined strut.

"Emma," he yelled. "Where are you going?"

She continued to fast walk, keeping her eyes directed at some sort of park hidden in the forest.

"I need to think," she shouted, making sure it was loud enough so she didn't need to repeat.

She paced around the forest for about fifteen minutes. The outrage rose, disappeared only to appear again when she rethought what had just happened. If she returned Killian would want to talk about it and Emma did not. She was in a bad mood before and instead of ameliorating, he had worsened it and brought it to a level Emma hadn't even deemed possible. She grabbed her earbuds out of the pocket of her jacket and forcefully pushed them into the hole of her phone. She shoved them into her ears and chose the loudest music she had in her music library, blasting the sound to vent.

Returning to the car, Emma spotted Killian sitting on the hood, fiddling with the rings on his hands. He jumped off as he saw her and approached her. Emma swerved to avoid him and settled into the Bug, clasping her seat belt and passive-aggressively showing him that she wanted to leave.

Killian got into the seat next to her and addressed her.

"Swan, we need to talk about it."

She could barely hear him over the music screaming into her ears.

"No, we don't. Just focus on the road. I'd like to get to Arizona as quick as possible and maybe not arrive in the middle of the night for once," she bit.

Killian's shoulders sagged in defeat, his left hand combed through his hair while his other one turned the key and ignited the engine. Emma closed her eyes and focused on nothing but the music.

-/-

Phoenix, Arizona

"The only room we have left is one with a queen-sized bed," the man behind the motel counter told them.

Killian quickly looked over his shoulder to her and Emma averted her gaze.

"That will do." Killian extended his hand and accepted the keycard from the balding man.

"Room 102."

"Thank you very much," Killian thanked him and grabbed his bag off the floor. Emma stayed where she was in the beige sofa. She didn't move an inch, not even when Killian told her he was going upstairs and left a spare key for her on the coffee table.

It was late and Mary Margaret tended to go to bed early and there was a two-hour difference between Arizona and Maine. But Emma was also going through an emergency and she wouldn't consider it too late to call someone for an emergency. Especially when one of two only people who could calm her down was also the cause of the distress. Wishing her friend was still up, she dialed the loft's number and nibbled her lip as the dial tone sounded.

"Hello?"

Emma was about to cry of relief when the sound of Mary Margaret's soft voice found its way to her ears.

"Hi, Mary Margaret. It's Emma."

"Emma," she greeted her enthusiastically despite the late hour. "It's great to hear you, honey. How are you?"

"I'm alright." She wasn't actually, but if she blatantly admitted that Mary Margaret would probably instantly hop on a plane to help her in person. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"No, no. David and I were just out to dinner. Is everything alright?"

Her friends knew her too well. Three sentences over a phone call that connected two people three thousand miles away and Mary Margaret had already figured her out.

Emma filled her lungs with oxygen and let air escape again through her lips.

"He said he loved me, Mary Margaret," she said straight to the point.

"And what did you say?"

She didn't need any specifications as to who said he loved her nor did she seem surprised about the recent event in her life. The first thing wasn't really remarkable, the second definitely was.

"Nothing," Emma responded. "I ran away and he wants to talk about it but I don't."

"But you love him too right."

"Yeah, of course."

It started out platonically and then suddenly it wasn't anymore. A different light was cast upon him, highlighting every aspect of him that Emma used to like and then suddenly loved. She had known long enough for her to go from discomfort to a sense of assuredness. Emma was in love with Killian and she could live with that.

"Then what's the problem?"

She couldn't live with the knowledge that he loved her too.

"I don't know," she admitted. Because she really did not. The reasons for her anger were idiotic, even she realized that, but her head was a blur of emotions. "It would be real, I guess. What if it doesn't work out? We're stuck with each other."

"Honey. Why on earth wouldn't it work out?" Mary Margaret questioned. "You love each other. You're two peas in a pot and you've already survived three months on the road."

As usual, Mary Margaret was right. Why would taking their relationship from platonic to romantic change anything drastically? She loved him as a friend and she'll love him as more than that. And as he professed earlier, so would he. After a moment of silence, Emma changed the subject.

"How's David?"

"Fine, good," Mary Margaret added after a short pause. "I mean, we're both good."

Instead of her best friend's usually calm and serene voice, her answer came a bit rushed. As if Mary Margaret was guilty of something Emma had no knowledge of.

"Mary Margaret?" Emma said, prompting her to spill what was wrong.

"He proposed," she shared. "And I said yes."

So nothing was amiss. The strange thing, however, was that the announcement lacked every ounce of cheerfulness Mary Margaret normally carried, it was like it was something to be sad about.

"But that's great, right?" Emma wondered.

"It is." The short answer did nothing to reassure Emma and she was about to ask another question when Mary Margaret resumed talking. "I know you think we're stereotypical, that we're boring. Vanilla. And that' you left because you got sick of us, but, Emma, this is how I want it."

Emma's heart contracted as a response. Of course, that wasn't the reason. She loved Mary Margaret and David. They were so important to her and she owed them. Maybe she hadn't been appreciative enough of them, of what they meant to her. It wasn't new information that she could be lousy with telling what she felt but at least she thought Mary Margaret knew all of this.

"No, Mary Margaret. That's not true," she disagreed. "You don't know how many times I wanted to give up and return to be with you two again. But I needed to do this, for myself. I needed to discover who I was. Because I couldn't get any further than an orphan and a waitress and that's a pretty pathetic way to sum up twenty-five years." Her eyes became blurry as tears took over. "I respect you both so much and part of that is because you know exactly who you are. Wonderful people, an astonishing couple. One day, I want exactly what you have. I want the stereotype."

There. She said it. Emma Swan yearned for a house to call her home, the white picket fence life with all its bells and whistles.

"With Killian?"

"Yeah," Emma sighed, rubbing her hand over her cheek and under her eyes to get rid of the tears and of the exhaustion. "With Killian. I should go talk to him, shouldn't I?"

"You should," Mary Margaret advised in her Mom voice.

"Thanks, Mom." Her joke was accompanied by a watery laugh. "And I'm so, so happy for you and David."

"You better make it back on time because I can't do this without my maid of honor."

Even though it was quite a logical pick, Emma still felt the emotion swirling inside of her. She was a long way from being that small orphan without any friends and loved ones.

"I will," she vowed. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Emma finally went upstairs. Quietly, she opened the door and dropped her bag next to Killian's. Killian was lying on the bed, eyes shut and head buried in the white pillow. She heard his breath hitch as the door closed with a soft thud and saw his shoulders tense. Even though it looked like it, he was not asleep yet. Toeing her shoes off, her socked feet walked on the carpeted floor, crossing the distance between the two of them. Emma lay across him, her hands folded under her head.

"Hey," she whispered cautiously, afraid of waking him in case she did read the signs wrong, in case his earlier movements were subconscious or as a reaction to something that happened in his dream.

There was a moment of quiet with only steady breathing, a heartbeat or five before his eyes opened, before the blue irises shone in the dimmed light. They scanned her face, most likely looking for clues as to what the subject of the following conversation was. Emma understood that. She'd treated him abominably before, for no valid reason and it was time to apologize.

"Hey," he replied, with a whisper too.

For a small moment, the fear emerged again, scaring her from starting with the topic they've been dancing around for a day. So she chose something less scary, something that she could predict, their reactions and the things that were going to be said.

"Mary Margaret and David are getting married," she announced.

Killian's eyes lids closed as he let out a sigh before his lips twitched into a carefully crafted smile.

"I know," he replied. When Emma's brow furrowed in a question, he elaborated. "David called me this morning with the news that he was going to propose this evening, I take it she accepted."

Her head moved on the pillow, a rustle coming from the nod.

"She did."

"Good," he stretched the word out as long as he could, probably suspecting that there wasn't much to say about the upcoming event anymore, not before Mary Margaret and David really started planning and left the happy bubble they were in now.

"Killian, l-" He watched her and from under her eyelashes Emma gazed back at him. She put a lock of hair behind her ear, the motion perfect for the hesitance she was experiencing. It was her task to incite the conversation. He definitely wasn't going to take the initiative, his former attempts were deflected by her and he knew better than to push her.

"I'm sorry, Killian," Emma said, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry as well," he immediately responded.

That was unexpected. Why was he apologizing?

"For what?" she questioned.

"Telling you." His face contorted with remorse. "Ruining our trip." His guilt drenched every word, creating Emma's own guilty shame inside of her.

"You didn't." Her hair moved back onto her face because of how heavy she was shaking her head. Killian did not ruin the trip. If anyone was going to be successful in turning it all into a nightmare, it was definitely going to be her. "I was the one who was acting horribly and very unfair towards you."

"It's alright," he reassured and seemingly forgave her instantly. "I get it if you don't reciprocate what I feel. I won't mention it again, but, Emma, I don't want to lose my best friend."

She didn't answer. She thought about what she was going to answer, formulated a sentence or two and then mentally scratching them off the sheet of paper in her head. This was the moment she was supposed to make everything alright and better again.

"Emma?"

"I love you too," she blurted out.

His eyes widened in shock.

"I have known it for a while but when you suddenly said proclaimed your love for me I became overwhelmed and I became afraid of what it meant and I am sorry," she rambled.

A tiny tear escaped before Emma realized it but Killian noticed and caught it with his thumb. After wiping it away, his hand stayed on her face and his thumb kept making the caressing movement even though it wasn't necessary anymore.

"You love me too?" he asked, even though she had just told him so. Killian had to be sure.

She gazed into his eyes, connecting the both of them so he could see she wasn't lying or making something up or saying it to show her pity. It wasn't just a platonic I love you, it was an "I love you and I'll happily spend the rest of my life with you but I'm also kind of scared what this means, I'm so glad you are here" I love you.

"I do."

The meaning of those two simple words wasn't lost on Killian. Maybe in a couple of years, she would tell Killian those same words, tying their relationship for eternity. It was far too premature to start talking about weddings when they hadn't even kissed yet, but the very clear image kept on looping inside of Emma's head.

It seemed as if Killian was going to cry as well, but eventually, instead of little beads of water, a striking grin broke out on his face.

"I love you, Emma Swan," he repeated and this time Emma stayed exactly where she was, she didn't run. Killian opened his arms and she shuffled closer until her ear was placed over his heart, the steady thudding a comfort. His arms embraced her, holding her tightly and Emma felt his lips bury in her hair.

They loved each other.

"When you say you've loved me for a while," Killian mumbled against her locks, "how long exactly do you mean?"

Emma thought for a second.

"I guess two years or so. Maybe a bit longer."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you?" Shifting on the bed, Emma looked upwards to him, a smile on her lips. "You've been in love with me for a longer time."

"I suppose you have a point," Killian admitted with a smile of his own before kissing her forehead.

"So now that we've established that we love each other, what are we going to do?" Her hand trailed along his arm, drawing random figures on his skin with her nails.

"I suggest we continue our trip, simply with a little less bickering and a little more making out."

Emma playfully swatted him on the chest as he smirked.

"Hey!" he shouted.

In the silence that followed, Emma thought of something.

"If David called you this morning, did he ask you to be his best man?" she asked.

"He did." Killian nodded. "You're maid of honor?"

"Uhuh," she hummed in reply.

"I suppose we have an official first date, Swan."

"Yeah… I don't think so," Emma declined, moving out of Killian's embrace. "I'm not going to be able to wait that long." The worried look on his face disappeared as she leaned over him, placing her lips against his.

Going on a road trip with your best friend was great, but going on a trip with your best friend/ boyfriend? Fucking extraordinary