A/N: My contribution to the Captain Swan Thanksgiving fics. I'm aware this is late, but I figure better late than never. Might as well extend the Thanksgiving cheer!
Emma walked into the loft and shrugged off her long, red winter coat and let it land where she stood. It was now damp from the fresh falling snow outside and thus had her freezing. It was only Thanksgiving and all of Storybrooke already looked like the picturesque inside of a snow globe. She was not pleased.
She sauntered over to the fridge to put away the pies that her mother had forced into her arms earlier in the evening, after their dinner.
Killian followed her in, never taking his eyes off of her, and leaned his chest against the counter. He didn't know much about whatever it was they just celebrated, but he did know enough, thanks to her son, Henry. Finally, he broke their momentary silence. "So, the lad tells me that on this day you're supposed to say what you're thankful for?"
"That's correct," she responded, turning back to him.
"So, Ms. Swan," he said, enunciating every syllable. "What are you thankful for?" His eyes peered into hers, reading her like the open book she was to him.
Emma knew the answer he was searching for, but she wasn't going to give it up that easily. She looked around the room for something to say. Anything. Finally, her eyes landed on the confection she had just put in the fridge.
"Pie," she responded. "I'm thankful for pie."
"Pie?" he asked confused, not expecting that of all answers.
"Mhmm," she said, nodding. "It comes in a lot of different flavors and it's perfect for any time of year." She paused. "Why? What are you thankful for?" She tilted her head to the side and looked back at him the exact same way he was looking at her.
Two can play this game, he thought, knowing exactly what she was doing. He thought long and hard about his answer, before landing on "leather."
"Leather?" she asked dumbfounded.
"Mhmm," he said, nodding the exact same way she did. "Almost anything can be made out of it."
"Fair enough," she said, shrugging.
She closed the fridge and turned to head to their bedroom, so she could change out of the rest of her clothes and into her pajamas.
"Anything else?" he asked, following her.
"Yah!" Emma said excitedly, pulling her pajamas out of her drawer. "Henry!" Even though her back was to him, he knew she had a wide grin plastered on her face.
At least we're talking people now, he thought.
"And you?" she asked, turning back around.
At that moment, she reached up and removed her top, letting it hit the floor. Watching her, Killian thought of two other things he was thankful for. But he'd save that for a later date.
He was too engrossed in her to hear what she said. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she said, giggling to herself. She knew exactly the effect she had on him and was quite satisfied with that knowledge.
She rid herself of her pants and replaced them with sweats. She then pulled a tank top over her head and climbed into their bed.
He rid himself of his clothes and followed her under the covers, resting his head against one of their many pillows.
She pressed their bodies together, laying her head on his chest, her pillow, and her hand over his heart.
"Are you sure there's nothing else?" he asked, looking down at her head on his chest, almost saddened by the fact that she had yet to say the answer he was so desperately searching for.
"Hmm… let me think," she said, turning to face him, the corners of her lips tugging at her cheeks.
"You, silly," she said, shaking her head, wondering why he even felt the need to ask. "I'm thankful for you," she said slowly, yet matter-of-factly, making sure he heard every word. She leaned up to kiss him chastely and he smiled against her lips.
"Me too," he said, pulling back and pressing his forehead against hers. "Me too."
She laid her head back down on his chest and played with the hairs there as he moved his fingers through her hair. They fell asleep like that – contently curled up in each other with smiles on their faces.
