She knows how to hold her liquor better these days. College has taught her a thing or two and knowing the biology behind her bodily functions and workings – studying pre-med has its perks – doesn't hurt. Besides, Emma is one of the people who studies and works really hard during the week: taking 16 credits this semester alone and working somewhere around 30 hours a week at Granny's. But those rare days where she has no commitments, Emma knows how to party.

Tonight, right now, she's enjoyably tipsy. She would have been really drunk – worshipping the porcelain throne, sweaty and disgusting – right now if she hadn't slept some of it off earlier that night. No, her nap on the couch was refreshing, working off some of the alcohol in her system and keeping her from falling straight to sleep again. Not that she could now that she knows the feeling of strong arms curving around her body, supporting all of her weight in his arms.

She's pleasantly buzzed – enough to know that the idea currently knocking around in her brain is probably not the best idea she's ever had, but too entranced by it to think of anything else.

It's been three years since she'd had a taste of Killian Jones's physical affections. Three years until tonight, maybe twenty minutes ago, when he effortlessly carried her from the couch. Once she'd woken up, she could've walked herself to bed. Should have walked herself to bed. And what did she do instead? Settle further into the warmth his body exuded.

Some part of her is trying to send a message to her consciousness or her brain or something. The circuits just aren't lining up and the message is getting muddled in translation.

Emma scoffs, kicks the covers off, and rolls on to her back, staring up at the ceiling, hoping to whatever higher powers that she can make up her fucking mind.

The message that finally makes it through – the one she finally decides to act on – is just do it.

An hour passes before she eases out of bed. Creaking the door open, Emma surveys the landscape. Heavy snores emanate from the floor at the front of the couch. Even in the dark, she can differentiate easily between Killian's shaggy hair and his brother's curled locks once her eyes adjust.

Emma tiptoes around, the dark head of hair her beacon in the moonlit room. When she reaches his side, she kneels down at his head. If he were to open his eyes, the blue would look directly at the freckle on her knee.

Killian's breathing is soft, causing the blanket beneath him to ruffle with each breath. Some of his hair falls across his brow and into his eyes. Subconsciously, Emma gently brushes back the bangs from his face. Sleep makes him look so much younger than the years she knows he's lived. She knows from David and brief discussions and even little looks that he's had it just as rough as she has.

But he's survived. He's become successful at the academy and she knows he'll go on to graduate and become the best at whatever he's doing in the Navy. She's happy for him: she's happy with him. Or at least the few times they've spent together she was.

His bangs fall back into his face, forcing a giggle from Emma's lips. She brushes them back again. This time, his nose scrunches up in his sleep. It's quite endearing. So much so that she can't help but bend forward and press a quick kiss to his cheek. Maybe it's the alcohol still running through her veins that makes her do it, but she can't say she'll regret it come morning.

He stirs, sleepy eyes and all. His eyes meet her knee, just as she predicted, and it takes him by surprise if the inhale he takes is an indication. Emma quickly places her hand on his cheek to calm him, a finger going up to her lips to silence him. Killian nods and easily sits up.

"What's the matter, Emma?" he asks. His blue eyes are alert, as if something might be amiss in the apartment. "Are you okay?"

She nods, "Yeah, of course, I'm fine."

Brow raised in smirkish question, Killian whispers, "Then why did you come out here and wake me when you should be sleeping yourself?"

Emma hesitates, then shrugs. "I was lonely?" she says quietly.

That catches his attention. "Were you now?" His voice is scratchy, rough from his unconsciousness. "And how do you suppose you solve that problem?"

"I don't know." She shrugs again. "Maybe you want to come and check under the bed for monsters or something?"

Killian's grin grows exponentially. "I would eat my own feet if it meant I didn't have to spend another minute next to this snoring arse."

Emma feels her smile spread wide across her face as she pushes herself to standing with the help of the couch. She offers Killian a hand up, which he casually takes, but doesn't let go. Emma withholds her giggles until they sneak to the threshold of the guest room, she leading him by the hand.

"So there's the bed," she says quietly, pointing at the object. "Can you just..." With a roll of her wrist, Emma expresses her uncertainty. There is a man – a handsome, sassy man who she may or may not have been interested in for years – in her room and for as experienced and educated on the subject of sex as she is, Emma hasn't a clue on how to proceed. "I don't know, make sure the coast is clear?"

"I'm sure it is," Killian assures her, "just like it was when I brought you in here not too long ago." Cautiously, he backs her up until she's seated on the foot of the bed before he joins her. "What are you really up to, Swan?"

"I don't know. I really don't know." Emma flops back, her arms spreading wide and the blankets flying up beneath her. "I was lonely and the only person I could think about was you…"

"And why is that?"

Springing up into a seated position, Emma whispers-shouts, "I don't know, Killian!" She groans and rubs her eyes. "Christ, I thought you were studying engineering or marine life, not psychology."

Killian laughs. His hand comes to rest on the bed between them. "I just want to know what you want from me." He leans forward, approaching the barrier of her bubble space. "I want to know if you invited me into your bedroom to sleep with you or sleep with you, or neither of the above. Because I will do whatever you bid me."

She can't help herself: his words are so kind, far kinder than she deserves for waking him from slumber and dragging him into her room. "I just…" Emma hesitates. "It's been, what, three years since we shared the floor? And then you carry me to bed tonight after showing up out of the blue for dinner."

"You're just stating facts, love," Killian says through a chuckle. "Get to the point or else I'm going back to sleep."

Emma sighs. Her hands drag down her cheeks as she faces him head on. "You helped me. That night at the party. I fainted on the dance floor and you were there and you caught me, but I never got to say goodbye or thank you."

"I know."

"I just…" She inhales deeply to gather courage. "I feel like we missed an opportunity there."

He smiles almost sadly. "I know."

"And now we're here," she starts, slowly. "We're older and a little wiser and a little stupider and I hope we're both still a little drunk…"

"Don't say that, love," Killian interrupts her. "If you say that, then I'll feel even worse about the thoughts running through my head right now."

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"Emma." The way he says her name is – she hates to say something like worshipful, but it sounds like that. "Emma, look at me." Again, his tongue wraps around her name, an embrace to help her through whatever problem she's trying to parse through. His fingers crawl over her skin, up her knee to where both her hands lay. His hand is warm on top of hers, comforting.

"Are you trying to say you want to make up for lost time?"

"I guess something to that effect," she says with a nod.

"Are you sure?" Emma tilts her head to the side. He wants to make sure she's sure and it makes a sappy smile cross her face.

It's quickly washed away when Killian abruptly stands from the bed and pulls her by the hand upright as well. Emma stumbles a bit into his chest. No comment passes either of their lips, but something has changed between them. She can't help but ponder it as he leads her to the side of the bed that's already untucked. Without a word, he gestures to the open spot. She sits in the bed, legs crossed, and watches him crawl over the bed to get to the other side. He gets under the covers himself.

"What in the world are you doing?" she asks, trying and failing to keep the laughter out of her voice.

"Making up for lost time." He scoots closer to her, until their knees touch. He opens his arms wide. "Want a repeat of our one fantastic night on our brothers' dorm room floor? I've been told I give fantastic hugs."

This time, Emma doesn't hold back her laughter. Instead, she leans forward and wraps her hands around his neck, her forearms on his shoulders. Killian's eyebrow raises in question. It takes all of Emma's willpower to stay on her current track of action and not physically force that silly expressive brow down with her finger. None too gently, she pulls him into her, until their lips meet, far overdue.

"I was thinking something better," she mutters against his smile.

"Oh," Killian murmurs. "I am more than amiable to that."

a/n: YAY THEY'RE FINALLY TOGETHER! TAKE THAT, LIAM AND DAVID.

As always, feel free to leave a word. Until next time :)