A/N: Thank you all for the lovely comments, follows, and favorites. They mean the world to me, and I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter.
Before the movie was even halfway over, Kilian looked down at Emma's head ‒which was on his lap‒ and found her fast asleep. He smiled and paused the movie; though she'd already seen it and would likely have no objections to him finishing it while she was conked out, he wanted to be able to share the novelty of the Jump Street franchise with her. Her phone buzzed on the table, and Killian held his breath, hoping she wouldn't wake up. She simply stirred, yawned, and snuggled closer into him, as if that was even possible. He carefully reached forward and picked her phone up and was surprised to see a text from Regina, not David.
What time are you picking Henry up?
Curt and to the point as usual. After debating for a few moments, Killian decided he should respond to Regina on behalf of his Swan. He punched in the four digit passcode that Emma had shared only with him ‒the truest act of trust, Henry had said.
This is Killian, Emma is asleep with a cold. It would probably be wise for the lad to stay with you until she's better so as not to get him sick.
Killian pressed the lock button and leaned back with a sigh. He just wished he could make Emma feel better. He realized it was nearing lunchtime and apparently, so did Emma's stomach. It growled, but in her deep sleep, she didn't seem to notice. Just as began taking a mental stock of what they had on hand ‒bread and cheese, eggs, pancake mix‒ the blonde's face screwed up in a pained expression and she let out a tiny whimper. He stared down at her, unsure of what to do. She needed her rest, but he also didn't want her suffering from a nightmare.
He knew exactly what that was like, and he wouldn't even wish it on the Crocodile.
"Emma," he said gently. When she didn't wake up, he tried shaking her shoulders slightly. Still nothing.
"Killian!" The blonde screeched and bolt upright, nearly knocking both her and Killian off the couch in the process. It took her a moment to get her bearings, and slowly but surely, the terror in her eyes faded to fear and embarrassment.
"It's alright love, I'm right here," the dark haired man pulled her to him. She leaned into his strong embrace and let out a breath of relief and mumbled 'sorry' into his shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about," he whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could look her in the eye. "I survived dying, I'm not going anywhere."
"This is the third spectacle I've caused today," she groaned, untangling herself from Killian so that she could hide her face in her hands. "I really hate being the center of attention."
And he had to laugh at that because of course she was coming down from a nightmare, sick as a dog, and still worrying about what people thought of her. He knew that if she wasn't sick, she'd have swatted his arm by then, so he reeled himself in and asked,
"How about lunch?"
Though her stomach did flip-flops at the mere thought of food, Emma had to admit she was hungry. She nodded, and he got up to turn on the stove.
"I figure grilled cheese is the best option. Nutritious but bland enough that it shouldn't make you sick," he said.
"I don't know if my mom would agree about the 'nutritious' part but that sounds great, thanks," she begrudgingly left her comfy spot on the couch to sit at the counter island and watch him. She loved watching Killian do even the simplest tasks. The domesticity of it all gave her comfort and hope that they'd eventually work past everything. He buttered four pieces of bread and put them on the pan, then added a piece of cheese to the top of each. As he put a kettle on for hot chocolate (bless that man), Emma blurted, "I dreamt that I wasn't able to save you from the Underworld."
Her words caused him to freeze in place and nearly drop the mug he'd just taken out of the cabinet.
"Emma‒"
"I'm not expecting you to say anything," she mumbled, looking down at her hands. "I just… for what it's worth, I've been having nightmares since we got back. And I know you have been, too, and I'm not trying to force you to talk about anything because you have the right to wait till you're ready, if you're ever ready, and…" she trailed off, realizing she was babbling. She looked up and saw his stiffened body and knew that if he'd been facing her, she'd see his jaw clenched.
"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm. Oh, it was filled with love, as always, but Emma picked up on the hard edge he tried to keep out of it. He was angry, and for a few moments she was worried the anger was directed at her for calling him out on the nightmares. She then decided that no, he wasn't mad at her, but at himself.
"Same reason you haven't said anything either," she shrugged. "Killian… we've been through a shit ton. Both of us. I think it's okay if we're not okay."
He seemed to relax at her words, which made Emma happy.
"I suppose you're right," he sighed and went to retrieve the glass of water she'd left on the coffee table. After he put it in front of her he disappeared again and came back with two Advil. "These should help with the fever and headache," he said.
"Thanks," she smiled. As he flipped the grilled cheeses, he said,
"My nightmares are about losing you. Or that I actually followed through with my plan and killed your family. Or that… that I didn't come back from the Underworld," he hung his head at that, and Emma got up to wrap her arms around him, grateful that the sleep had at least gotten rid of the vertigo for the time being.
"Killian," she said quietly. When he refused to look up, she said more firmly, "Killian, look at me."
"What?" He sounded defeated as he struggled to meet her gaze.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of. I can't… I can' even imagine what you went through down there. Trust me, nobody would think any less of you, least of all me. Both my parents had nightmares after their sleeping curses. Henry did. Regina might act like a total bitch, but underneath all the snarkiness she's a total sap. You know about me and all of my issues. Gold's a friggin', well, goldmine of insecurities. None of us are as put together as we want people to think, and neither are you. I know that beneath your swashbuckling rapscallion persona, you still wonder what you did to deserve me ‒there are many things, and it would take me too long to get into it‒ but the point remains: we're all human, including you. If I've learned one thing from my crazy family, it's that letting people in doesn't make you weak; it makes you strong. So whenever you're ready, my ears will be waiting."
"Your ears will be waiting?" Killian cocked an eyebrow, and Emma smirked.
"See, this is why I don't do sentimental. I suck at it."
"I personally think it was lovely until that last sentence," he smiled, wrapping his arms around her.
"As much as I love this, if you burn my grilled cheese I'm gonna be pissed," she said, making a show of smelling the air to prove her point. Killian laughed, really laughed, for the first time in what felt like ages before pulling away and flipping the grilled cheeses onto the plates Emma had gotten down.
As she reached for her plate, he grasped her wrist. Blue eyes met green and he said,
"Thank you."
Emma simply smiled and nodded.
"For the love of all the gods above, will you please just take the bloody medicine?" Killian said in a much too carefully measured voice.
He was a patient man. A very patient man. He'd waited three centuries to exact his revenge on the Crocodile. Then he'd waited one and a half utterly agonizing years for Emma to finally realize her love for him.
But if Emma didn't start cooperating he thought he was going to spontaneously combust.
"I don't need the medicine!" The blonde protested, nearly swatting the bottle of Nyquil out of Killian's hands
"That's it, I'm calling your mother," he reached into his pocket and fished out his cell, and as he began scrolling through his contacts, Emma realized he wasn't bluffing.
"Fine! I'll take the damn medicine," she threw her hands up in defeat and all but yanked the bottle out of his grasp. Hiding a smirk, Killian put his phone back in his pocket.
Half an hour later, after he'd gotten Emma tucked into bed and sound asleep, he went downstairs to clean up from lunch. He jumped when his phone vibrated, and once again took it from his pocket and hit 'accept call'.
"Hello?" He said, careful to keep his voice low so as not to disturb Emma.
"Hey, how is she?" David asked by way of greeting.
"Better than this morning I think. It's hard to tell, though, considering she doesn't complain. I had to threaten to call Snow to get her to take her medicine."
"Sounds like she's doing better, then," David chuckled.
"She can walk without falling over now, so yes." Killian paused, thought for a moment, then continued, "She took your advice, mate."
"What advice?" David feigned confusion, which the pirate saw right through.
"Come on, Davy, you and I both know what I'm referring to: the nightmares. She and I had a nice chat."
"Oh," David breathed out and chose to ignore the irritating nickname Killian had come to develop an affinity for. "Well, I hope you don't hate me."
"I don't," Killian said. "I could never, not if you don't hate me after everything that happened."
"We've been over this. You did the right thing in the end, though I'd prefer if you hadn't plotted to kill us in the first place. No harm no foul, alright?"
"I know," Killian sighed. "Look, as much as I enjoy talking to you, I should probably get back to Emma."
"Yeah, okay. Goodnight," David hung up. Killian scrubbed a hand over his face, then resumed cleaning up before falling into bed next to Emma.
Emma woke up feeling much better than she had the day before. A part of her thought about milking the whole thing, and playing sick for the week. She knew Killian would be more than happy about playing the part of the doting boyfriend. And the little girl in her was ecstatic at the care she was getting from her family. She'd never had that growing up, and as an adult, she'd always taken care of herself when she was sick. To have Killian get her water or another blanket when she didn't want to get off the couch was a blessing.
But there was still the part of her that was used to doing things on her own and didn't want to be a burden to everyone else (though she had a feeling that if she voiced that out loud she'd have to listen to another lecture).
As much as she'd love to have a lazy day in bed with Killian waiting on her, she just couldn't do that to him.
And she was far too stubborn.
She slipped out of bed and began looking for the leggings she knew were clean somewhere. To her surprise, Killian didn't wake up. She frowned; he always woke up when she got out of bed. She glanced at the alarm clock next to her bed. As she began to wonder why the hell she was up at 7:00 AM without needing to have been woken up by an alarm clock (or Killian), she realized it was way more out of character for him not to be up at this time. She shrugged it off, chalking it up to him being up late worrying about her and finally getting a full, deep sleep after weeks of nightmares waking him up every night like clockwork.
She threw on her leggings, along with a sweater, and decided that nobody could bitch to her about 'proper work attire' because she was the boss of the Sheriff's Department. Killian, at any rate, certainly wouldn't complain once he woke up.
She quietly crossed the hall to the bathroom and applied light makeup, then threw her hair up in a ponytail.
She could breathe out of her nose today, thank god, and hadn't yet felt the urge to cough. She put her red leather jacket on and grabbed a pop tart. So close, she thought, if I can just start the car without him waking‒
"Swan!" She heard him yell.
Shit.
"Yes, Killian?" She called back in the sweetest voice possible.
"I'm sick!" He all but whined. When she didn't immediately answer, he said in a nasally voice, "Come take care of me!"
In that moment, Emma realized she didn't have nearly as much patience as Killian Jones.
