A/N:In the season finale, I got the feeling that the whole "muscle memory" and "teach Killian some fighting skills" was way too much fun for Emma. Almost like she was getting to flip the tables on him.
"Swan, watch that foot."
The sharp sound of dulled metal clashing filled the warmer than normal air of the Storybrook park. The echo off the water carried the sound across the green grass, no doubt garnering the attention of the park's other partakers.
"You're still not minding your weight placement," he warned, yet again.
The surprise of this morning couldn't diminish the pride Killian felt when his beautiful Swan squared her shoulders with the dulled, albeit straight, blade (Emma had said that she had gotten her practice swords from her father, the upstanding knight and prince, which that meant the blades where painfully straight and heavy, lacking the curve and finesse of a cutlass. His fiery lass would benefit from a pirate's cutlass, no doubt).
"I am minding," she muttered under her breath; her bright hair moving from her ragged breath. Swan's high brow glistened in the late morning light, while she once again prepared to hit and parry.
"Do we need a moment?" he asked cheekily, knowing full well what her reaction would be.
"No," she scowled. "I'm fine."
"Good." Killian fought and won the laughter and smirk that wanted to rise up. Swan was amazing at besting him, and he didn't want to put fuel to the fire. "Let's go through the 4 again."
With a nod, Emma attacked with her blade through the four positions he had taught, and then he reciprocated with the same series of attacks so that she had to practice the defensive maneuvers that accompanied.
"Weight forward," he reminded. It was definitely her greatest shortcoming. Emma had the tendency to put too much weight into her back foot as if pulling away would protect her more. Which wasn't a surprising habit of hers considering her nature of self preservation. Killian knew that she would have to eradicate that bad habit as soon as possible, and therefore he pressed forward picking up speed and pressing into the four attacks he had been using repeatedly against her until the inevitable happened with a loud thud.
Emma's glare from her seated position on the ground would have struck fear into a lesser man, but he was Captain Hook, so he just approached her cautiously with his most charming smile while offering to help her from the ground.
"What was that for?" She grumbled after finding her feet underneath her and retrieving her blunted weapon.
"You needed to learn what would happen if you keep your weight on your back foot."
"So knocking me down was your solution?" Her voice had taken on that usual prickly tone whenever she was irritated.
"No, darling," he softened his voice to try to take the ire out of hers. "I would never just knock you down."
She side eyed him as she pulled her long hair back and off her neck, unable to hide the smile pulling up. "So you say," she muttered.
"Here," he placed his weapon on the grass while slipping around her to stand at her back. "How about I teach you the next four?"
"Fine," she said. Her breath hitching as he pressed into her, his left forearm braced against her hip, his hand surrounding hers on the hilt of the sword.
"It gets better Swan," he spoke softly into her ear as he progressed from the 5th attack to the 8th, constantly manipulating her elbow and wrist in a coordination that sent the blade on larging arching patterns in the early afternoon sun. Emma had to focus extra hard on the exact motions he was showing her and not the the heat of his chest against her back, the pressure he applied into her left hip, the gentle rhythm of his breath in her ear, nor the dark grey and blue paisley pattern of his jacketless sleeve. She couldn't help her eyes from rolling: her ridiculously hot pirate boyfriend and his paisley shirts.
"Eventually," he continued teaching, "your body begins to know instinctively the pattern you need to take. In a fight, it is less about strategy and more about being in the moment and relying on your training."
"Muscle memory," Emma said.
"Hmm?" he hummed the question.
"It's what we call it here." Emma was trying her best to follow and memorize the attacks he was showing her, but she appeared to be getting more and more distracted. "You do something enough, and your body will take over."
He could tell that she felt his reaction to her words; especially, when she said that last phrase in a lower octave. His Swan knew how to play him into the palm of her hand. Left forearm pressing tighter, his heart increasing its beating into her back, his breath hitching near her neck just the right way that makes her squirm- oh so deliciously. All's fair in love and war. He knew how to play her right back.
"Aye," his voice is hoarse. "Muscle memory."
He had all but stopped moving the sword around and was simply holding her against his chest. Pirate captain reduced to a pile of amorous feelings.
"So, would you call this move offense or defense?" She teased at his obvious distracted mind.
The growl low in his chest would be unmistakable for her to feel from the position they were standing. "Swan," he pressed his lips against her ear. "You're making it rather difficult to train you."
"Training me?" She looked over her shoulder so Killian could delight in the flush that stained her fair skin. "Is that what you're doing?"
Unable to stop himself, he held her tight while his lips brushed against her, only for her to pull back far enough that he couldn't chase her in the position they were in.
"Is this how you were train?" She asked, eyebrows arching in curiosity.
"Ah," he loosened his grip. "That would be a no." And this moment was such a testament to how far he had come in life. No dark shadow fell over his face and no heavy weight clung to his heart when he spoke again. "Liam taught me."
A simple statement on an idyllic afternoon, but Swan's eyes grew smaller and the smirk she held on her lips softened in understanding. "Your brother?"
"Aye, my brother."
"I wish I could have seen that." Swan's voice was soft and blended into the sounds of wildlife that the park boasted.
"Getting my arse whipped by my brother?" He snorted.
"No… well, yes, that too," her eyes twinkled his favorite shade of green. "It's just.." she shook her head in that way that he knew if he just gave her the moment, she'll find the right words. He has learned that she will reward his patience. "I just can't imagine you like that." The white of her teeth caught his eye as her smile grew into that radiant one that he was increasingly becoming more familiar with, and he couldn't help himself from responding to it with his own. "You're just so… you." She waved her hand up and down at him. "But sometimes you show this other side to you that make me wonder what you were like when you were young."
"A damn naive idiot," he reaches for her to plant a kiss on her forehead.
"Uh huh," she swayed into him.
"No really, with all of my 'good form' and no rum nonsense."
"No rum?" She looked at him like she couldn't even imagine it.
"Aye," one more kiss to the corner of her mouth before he stepped back to retrieve his discarded sword. "5 through 8?"
Emma looked at him thoughtfully before giving him a curt nod and readying her own weapon. Thank every deity in the sea and sky, that his fierce love would never truly know that younger version of himself. She would never let him live it down if she knew how many rum flasks he confiscated and tossed overboard.
