Emma rubbed her hands down her arms, trying to chase away the chill that the racing wind sent through her. The ship creaking beneath her feet and the smells of wood and sea mingling together managed to erase the frown from her face. Even when coldness seeped into her bones the smells and sounds of the Jolly Roger always managed to put her at ease. And really this had all been her idea.

Killian had all but moved into her apartment but he still couldn't go more than a couple of days without visiting his other girl. She would never admit it out loud but at first Emma had felt a hint of jealousy. Yes, that's correct, Emma Swan had been jealous of a ship. Then she had taken a day off work that had changed all that. Killian had spent the whole day with her and Henry until they had to leave the kid over at Regina's. It was on their way home that the pirate had stopped suddenly, rocking on his heels lightly and scratching his ear in that self-conscious way she found so damn adorable. He had looked almost guilty when he asked her if she wanted to swing by the docks with him. And at the same time his eyes had looked so hopeful. Something had clicked in Emma's mind. He didn't want to spend quality time with the Jolly. He wanted to spend quality time with her on the Jolly. They had spent the night on the ship and three days later when Killian had said that he was going to the docks Emma had waited an hour, swung by Granny's for a thermos of hot chocolate and welcomed herself aboard too.

Killian's smile had been so bright that she couldn't resist turning their joined visits to the ship into a tradition.

Emma didn't realize that she had reached the Captain's quarters until the door groaned slightly under her hand and her eyes found a pair of tantalizing blue ones upon entering.

"You're early, lass," he said, his appreciation of that fact evident in his voice.

It was true. She had been bored to tears at the station and had finally decided that it was Friday night and she could leave an hour early without feeling like the worst sheriff in Maine.

"Yeah, and my ass is freezing out here so feel free to start warming me up anytime."

His eyebrows shot up, a devilish smirk, that she really had to declare illegal, stretching his lips.

Emma pushed down the laugh bubbling in her throat and rolled her eyes.

"With cocoa, pirate," she said, allowing her lips to twitch upwards slightly. "For now."

At that the captain moved with what she could only label 'pirate speed', stealing a quick kiss from her cool lips. However, before she could even start reciprocating, he was off, rummaging in a cupboard for a couple of mugs, the thermos of hot chocolate already resting on his desk beside a deliciously old volume. Who knew that it would take Captain Hook to awake the book worm in Emma Swan. There was just something absolutely magical about reading fairytales that fairytale characters had written and read. Well, she supposed there were a lot of magical things in Storybrooke as a whole but those moments below the deck of the Jolly Roger with Killian's accented voice reading to her tales of princesses and pirates written by fairies and benevolent godmothers while she clutched a mug of liquid heaven… those moments had a charm all of their own.

"Bloody Hell!"

The pirate's angry outburst drew Emma out of her thoughts and made her frown down at him.

"Killian, what are you doing?"

"I can't find your blasted mug, lass. Give me a second."

Emma eyed the three cups he had already placed on top of his desk, obviously to get them out of his way, and opened her mouth to question him again when his words suddenly registered in her brain. He was looking for her mug.

Oh.

The house wasn't too big and that was probably why it was always so warm. When she had first walked in Emma had let that warmth seep in and tried to let it pull her in and make her feel at home. Yet she had always felt something eerie in the quietness that ruled over all the rooms, a warmth on the outside but a weird coldness in the pit of her stomach. It was somehow unnatural for a house that had two kids, beside herself, to be so… still. It unnerved her from the start but the girl just shook her head and told herself to stop being stupid and just be grateful she had a roof over her head. And to try to keep it this time.

She had been in the kitchen, helping Maria, who she never even thought of calling 'mom', get some biscuits on the pretty violet plate on the counter and some tea in the cups next to it.

Emma smiled at the chocolate and vanilla treats she had arranged in the shape of a flower and reached over for a bright yellow mug.

"Hey, that's my cup!" Kate's indignant voice made Emma freeze before her fingers had even made contact with the pretty porcelain.

The blonde snatched her hand back as if burnt. Kate had been here long before her. She had no problem calling Maria 'mom'.

"I'm sorry," she muttered beneath her breath, eyeing the rest of the options with mistrust, she wasn't sure which ones she had the right to touch anymore.

"Here everyone has their own cup, Emma," explained Maria without looking at her, keeping her attention on the dishes. "Like a toothbrush. Nobody else uses it but you."

"Oh," Emma glanced at the cups before her again, this time with longing. "Can I… Can I have one?"

At last Maria turned to look at her, the slight confusion on her face lasting just a second before she replaced it with what Emma thought was a smile that must be hurting her face.

"But, of course, sweetie," she said cheerfully, pointing to a green cup with something grey that probably should have resembled a dragon painted on it. "This is Mike's but you can choose whichever one you want from the rest?"

The blonde studied the cups with great attention, biting her lower lip while contemplating her choice as if it was the most important one she had to make in her life.

Maria cleared her throat after a few minutes. The slightest trace of annoyance evident on her features. Emma felt her heart squeeze and quickly pointed to another green cup with a white handle. She regretted her decision almost immediately. The cup looked too… ordinary. Like something that would be broken sooner than expected. But she didn't dare say anything, shaking her little head and smiling at the thought that she even had her own cup.

It was two weeks later when Emma came down the stairs to see a social worker sitting on a chair opposite Maria. The woman had short red hair and she was drinking from Emma's green cup. The moment she looked up the girl just knew. She should have known from the moment she walked through the door, should be used to it by now. But she wasn't. Without thinking she marched towards the table.

"That's my cup! Why are you letting her drink from MY cup?!"

There were yells and her name spoken in harsh tones and her little hand being tugged away with frightening force. And Emma had been right. The cup had never been meant for a long existence. Soon it was just a handful of green pieces scattered over a brown carpet, like leaves sensing the winter's approach and falling submissively to the ground.

"Aha!"

Killian's triumphant yell snapped Emma back to the present. She realized that she had sat in one of the chairs next to his desk, which she was gripping tightly.

"Here you go, luv."

Emma's eyes were glued to the streaming mug that he was handling her. It was a dirty sort of yellow, almost golden. Its rim was a crimson colour and there were streaks in the same shade on its handle. The colours were so warm, they looked like they were sliding over the porcelain like honey.

"Swan?" Killian gazed down at her with undisguised worry.

The sheriff's eyes followed his hand as it laid her mug, her mug, down and he kneeled before her. His hand found her knee, starting to rub slow circles on it, and finally drawing her gaze to him. He inclined his head to the side as if trying to read her and the lines on his brow became even more pronounced. Emma instinctively reached out to smooth them out.

"What's wrong, lass?"

Her right hand slid down, cupping his cheek and her left reached over, grasping the golden mug, her fingers shaking slightly. She caressed Killian's stubble absentmindedly while feeling the small imperfections over the mug's otherwise perfectly smooth surface. There were five of them, they were like the smallest pebbles, trapped below the honey that had been spilled over the suddenly precious object, and she liked to think that if she connected them they would form a star.

"Emma?" Killian prompted her again, making her eyes focus and come to rest on the scar on his face.

The most beautiful things are made even more beautiful by their imperfections.

Damn, she was cheesy.

But her eyes were kinda full, her head was buzzing, Killian's gentle touch was gradually calming down her racing heart, her fingers were still trembling over the porcelain in her hand and there was a warmth deep inside her that was chasing away all the coldness from the vicious wind outside. She could see his silver mug out of the corner of her eye, resting next to the modern thermos that looked so out of place in his cabin. Their cabin?

Emma's eyes crinkled up, her lips stretching in a shaky, genuine smile.

"I'm alright," she whispered and then cleared her throat and tried to blink away the moisture in her eyes. "I'm glad you found my mug."

Killian furrowed his eyebrows again, this time in wonder rather than worry.

"Stop doing that!" Emma laughed softly, smoothing out his skin before she let go and, grabbing both of their mugs, made her way to his bed. "Grab that book and come join me, pirate."

Killian shook his head and got to his feet, giving her one of those adoring looks that let her know that some parts of her were still a mystery to him and he loved unrevealing them one by one.

"Come on, the chocolate is getting cold."

But it wasn't really. The mugs keeping the warmth inside with their own unique brand of magic.