AN: Brief mentions of character deaths in this chapter, none related to the central and present storyline. But I like to give fair warning for that kind of thing to those who want the heads up. xoxo


Breakfast is a little more real. It's partly due to the fact that she's no longer drunk, and partly because she and Mulan have that same glassy expression in their eyes no matter how hard they try to keep up with the conversation. But ten months is a long time to be away from people; their lives continued on as they were while Emma was uprooted, flown halfway around the world, and then dropped back in the middle of all of this.

Killian, because he's Killian, immediately notices her discomfort, but she waves him off from asking about it while they're all enjoying their meals. She still manages to get caught up on the latest gossip and bask in the pure love of her friends, which definitely brings her back to earth a little bit. But she can't shake the feeling that she should be swelteringly hot. That she should be wearing her full uniform. That she should be getting ready for patrol or shift change or checking up on her roommate.

Instead, she's shoveling crepes into her mouth like someone is trying to take them away from her while she's absolutely swimming in Killian's sweatshirt. She's still cold, but this is the best she's getting for the moment. The minute she gets back to Storybrooke, she's diving under a pile of blankets.

When the conversation turns to going home, the idea of being left alone in her apartment suddenly seizes her. She has not been alone for more than a couple hours since the hotel room she was in during her stay in Boston. Even in Jersey, they were practically layered on top of one another in the barracks. At least Mulan and Ruby share a residence. She won't have to struggle with that, just every other aspect of reintegration into civilian life.

"I do believe Ruby mentioned that she's been sneaking your stuff back into your apartment during her last couple visits, so it should all be there for you. Hidden," he adds with emphasis, "but there." This conversation happens on the brief drive from the bed and breakfast back into Storybrooke.

Before he can even pass up his own building, however, Emma clears her throat and sucks up her courage. "You uh, mind if I stay at yours? I mean, mine's still all dusty. And there's no food in the cupboards or fridge."

"Of course, love. Stay as long as you wish. I just thought you might wish for your own bed again."

"The bed can wait. I'd much rather spend a little longer with you."

"Will you be all right while I head to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I can go back to mine, get the place cleaned up and unpacked. Maybe grocery shop. Maybe come back here and take naughty pictures in your bed and send them your way." She's glad the banter between them has always been easy for her. This feels more like coming home than anything else, as does his laughter in response. He rests his hand on her knee, the warmth of his palm sinking through the leggings she threw on before they left, and it's as easy as blinking to place her hand over his and relax into the seat until they pull up to his building.

Since he didn't wash himself when they showered earlier, he heads toward his bathroom almost immediately. She settles onto his couch while he's in there, throwing a plush blanket over her shoulders with another one on her lap for extra warmth. She must space out again before he gets back, because she doesn't even realize he's entered the living room, hair still damp and looking refreshed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, until he's gently nudging her forward so he can slide into his spot in the corner. She moves, then, and they shift around for a minute until they're both comfortable, sprawled across the springy surface that she missed so much.

"So," he says when they've done nothing more than comfortably breathe for a couple minutes. His apartment is quiet, other than the ticking of the clock on the wall by the door. "What do you suppose the hardest part of transitioning back is going to be?"

She thinks about the question for so long that he actually jumps a little when she begins answering, as he probably thought she fell asleep as she rests against his chest.

"I'll have to pay for food and bottled water again. I'll have to drive my own car and pay for the gas, which is just such a weird concept at this point. The Bug is still running, right?"

"Aye, I took her out every other week for a short drive to keep her in shape for you. Just drove her to work on Friday, in fact, so the tank is topped off right now, as well."

"Cool. So there's that. And choosing my own clothes will be weird. Don't let me wear tan unless it's drill weekend for a while. I'm going to gravitate towards it by habit. Not having a weapon on me at all times is also going to be weird, not gonna lie."

She shifts to sit up. Now that she has the ball rolling, it all starts tumbling out of her at once.

"This is a good one. No public showers. Like, I can just leave my soap in the shower, not wear shoes in there, and nobody else will be in the bathroom." She looks up at him, her lips tilting up as she catches his eye. "You're an exception, obviously."

He smiles back, shifting up to sit up across from her, both of them cross-legged on his couch and facing each other.

"I get to have my cell phone on me again. And it's going to take a while until I remember I can just call people and talk to them anytime instead of having to plan it. I'll jingle when I have change again instead of the weird cardboard coin-ish things we had. The weather is going to be a pain in the ass, especially since I got back right when it's getting cold and I am just always going to be cold. There will be actual fucking seasons here."

"Keep talking, I'm going to make you hot chocolate."

She sighs in happiness, ready for these kinds of comforts to be back in her life. "I get to wear my hair down," she comments, pulling a chunk over her shoulder to run her fingers through the slight waves left over from it drying naturally. "I can order takeout. You can make me food," she emphasizes, realizing that the meals they talked about last night are all entirely conceivable now.

"The smokers will finally stop bitching so much about the price of cigarettes," she adds on when Killian walks back in the room. She graciously accepts the steaming mug, bringing it close to her nose to just inhale the scent for a little bit.

"Is that all then? Just that tiny little list?"

"That's all I can think of off the top of my head. Give it a couple weeks, I'm sure there will be more."

While she finishes the warm drink in her hands, Killian fills her in on even more bits and pieces that didn't fit anywhere in his e-mails. He tells her about the banquet center, which is probably the most exciting thing, only because she's looking forward to an end to the Hades meetings almost as much as he is. By the time the mug is empty, Emma's eyes are getting heavy and Killian tugs her up from the couch to urge her into the bed, instead.

She wants to ask him to stay, and opens her mouth to say as much, but she yawns instead. It turns out she doesn't have to ask, because he perches on the side of the bed, reassuring her that he'll be there when she wakes up, but he wants to let her sleep on her own for a little bit before he joins her.

"When you wake up," he promises, "there will be Veggie Mess waiting for you, as well."

She might respond with a sighed out 'excellent' but it comes out more muffled than anything, and Killian just chuckles quietly as he checks to make sure she's fully cocooned before turning out the light.

-x-

There are people from all walks of life that have found their way to Storybrooke. Will Scarlet blew in one summer on a beat-up motorcycle. He applied for a job at the club on a chance, trained but having spent the last several years doing manual labor instead of his calling. Killian hired him on a trial basis as the off season began, and before the tourists started pouring in that summer, he was already promoted to sous chef.

Emma came along because of David, whose mother lived on the outskirts of town on a small farm before she passed away after David returned from college. Mary Margaret was born and raised here, a small town girl who only left long enough to go to college so she could come back and teach at the middle school her mother taught at before she passed away at a young age.

Regina wound up in Storybrooke after a series of anxiety attacks at her high-strung job made her re-think her career choices, especially coming off the tail end of her fiancé's death from a brain aneurysm. To say that incident opened her eyes about the path she was headed down was a bit of an understatement, and so she set her sights on something her mother would be proud of: opening her own high-end business in a place where the stress was manageable.

Robin and his son found their way to town when their car broke down outside the limits while they were on a camping trip. He'd only planned to stay a few days, but found that after the passing of his own wife that he preferred the peace and quiet the small town had to offer, especially while he was at the tail end of his grieving. Even if it had been three years since his first love had passed after giving birth to their little Roland, he still found it impossible that he would meet anyone to spend his days. He met Regina on his second day in town, and though he knew he'd always miss Marion, he was immediately smitten with the woman whose eyes showed the same pain.

Killian was pulled almost directly from culinary school on the recommendation of one of his culinary instructors, which he would later discover was Regina's mother. Cora passed shortly after he got the job and moved, but he found that he would always be thankful for the warped guidance she gave him.

And surprisingly, there was Archie. The small-time psychiatrist mostly catered to children, and he spent a lot of time with behavioral problems, but with his quiet demeanor and soft-spoken words, it was hard to remember that he was originally in the Navy. His degree would eventually land him a clinical position in his branch of the military, helping rehabilitate returning servicemen, but when he retired from his position, he meandered his way through the country and ended up in Storybrooke, Maine.

This is something even Emma forgot, despite knowing the man also had military experience, until a week after her return to town when she and Killian are walking down Main Street on their way to Granny's from the movie theater.

"Miss Swan!"

She turns when she hears her name, called in that same calming tone she's heard Archie use so many times before. "Hi, Dr. Hopper. How are you?"

"I'm well, thanks for asking. I don't want to keep you long, but I just wanted to welcome you home from your deployment. It's good to have you back in town."

"Thank you," Emma responds, smiling warmly. It's been nice having people welcome her back. After years of feeling like she wasn't wanted in the foster system, it's nice to know that people miss her when she's gone from the place that she calls home.

"I wanted to remind you that I did a lot of counseling for returning military members. I know reintegration can be a difficult process. If you ever need to just talk or get anything off your chest, my door is always open to you."

Her hand tightens in Killian's with the exhilarating thought that this is a resource she has available to her without having to travel to Boston and go through the hassle of finding a counselor of her own. Killian is wonderful to talk to, but there are things that she can't find the right way to express to him. There are situations that wouldn't make sense to him, at all. So while he is the best listener she could've ever asked for, there are still aspects of her deployment that she can't share with him, and there are concepts of her homecoming that he just couldn't understand as a civilian.

"Thank you," she finally tells Archie. There's a lump in her throat as she speaks, but she swallows it and continues. "Thank you, Dr. Hopper. I'll make sure to stop in sometime this week."

Archie smiles, nodding his head in salutations to both her and Killian as he continues back the way he came. Killian tilts his head, raising an eyebrow in question to check that she's okay, and he leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek when she nods and gives him a smile in reassurance.

"It's so good to be home," Emma remarks as they continue their walk to the diner.

At Granny's, there's a heaping pile of onion rings waiting for her almost as soon as she walks in the door. The hug that Granny gives her is borderline smothering, but it feels so good that Emma can only laugh into the older woman's shoulder and thank her. The onion rings are even better than she remembers.

-x-

Emma keeps her word and walks into Archie's office later that very week. He settles into his chair with a notepad and invites her to sit on the plush leather couch. He's set aside an hour and a half for her first session with him, and one hour sessions to follow if she needs them as she readjusts.

"Start anywhere you'd like," he tells her.

There's a small coffee table in front of the couch where he's placed a pitcher with ice water, and Emma pours herself a glass and plays with the condensation for several moments before she responds.

"I don't really know where to start."

"Why don't you start at the beginning, then, and we can take it from there. How did you get into the military?"

Her cheeks puff out as she blows out a breath. "Well, that actually starts years before I every signed on the dotted line. Which, I feel like that was a total letdown. Mine wasn't dotted, it was an electronic signature pad. Who even came up with the concept of the dotted line?" When she realizes she's rambling, she looks up at Archie, who isn't quite laughing at her, but it's a close thing.

"It can be a nerve-wracking process. Take your time," he reassures her.

With another calming breath, she centers her thoughts on what started it all.

"I was an orphan. Found on the side of the road, in and out of foster homes all my life, and none of that matters except for the last foster family I had before getting stuck in group homes until I aged out. The Swan family sent me back after they conceived a child of their own, and I kept the name years down the road to remind myself that there was no such thing as hope. And then I almost got adopted by a woman named Ingrid and her husband, who took in a lot of foster kids over the years."

She sips the water for comfort more than necessity before continuing. "Ingrid liked the problem children. She liked finding a way to bring us around to being pillars of the community instead of delinquents."

Emma describes her life at Ingrid's, which was something more than any other foster home she had. She was fifteen when she went to live there, intent on running away after the first night when a bully got in her face within the first hour. Ingrid, in her patient way, gave her the perfect retaliation in case he picked on her again, and Emma found after that she didn't want to leave. This was the closest thing she'd ever had to home.

Ingrid's husband was a recruiter with the army, and he was there for several months before starting his own deployment. She joined Ingrid for the phone calls he was able to make every couple months, squeezing herself next to her foster mother in order to overhear as much of the conversation as she could. She didn't really have dreams and aspirations to follow in her foster father's footsteps, but she was intrigued by his world away from home.

There was talk, when Emma turned sixteen, that Ingrid wanted to adopt her. They just wanted to wait for her husband to come home so they could finalize the paperwork. When he got back, however, he announced that he was leaving. Ingrid and Emma both sat stunned at the kitchen table while the other foster children almost dejectedly started packing their bags, knowing exactly what this meant for them. But this was supposed to be Emma's home. She was supposed to stay here until she graduated from high school, until she went off to college and came home for breaks to tell her new mom all about what was going on in her life. Looking at Ingrid at that moment, she saw the woman's heart break, could see the walls building up as her husband grabbed a duffel of his own belongings and walked out the door.

She was back in a group home by the end of the week. She and the lost boys and girls, the ones who Ingrid had painstakingly rehabilitated, all returned in one fell swoop. A couple of them aged out of the system after that. A few others got picked up by other foster parents. Emma, however, spent the rest of her high school days within the walls of the group home.

Until she met Neal, of course.

Five days before her graduation ceremony was scheduled, she met Neal at the coffee shop around the corner from the group home she would have to vacate by the end of the month. And she thought he was it. He was the rest of her life. He looked at her like the sun shone out of her ass, and it was that enamored expression which made her skip the ceremony and give the school a PO box to send her diploma.

But they were poor. In love, but poor. And when she turned eighteen, he scraped together the last of their funds so they could stay in a nicer hotel than the cheap motels they usually crashed in before housekeeping could kick them out. She didn't have much to compare it to at the time, but it was the most special night she could've asked for.

One thing led to another, and soon they were ripping off corner stores left and right to get a meal. But they didn't have a home, and they didn't have regular food, and they didn't stay anywhere long enough that Emma could've gotten a job. Neal, it turns out, was wanted in too many places to have a legal job. He was always looking over one shoulder, and it just got worse the longer they spent together, the longer they ran.

Neal pitched a job – the one that would set them for life – and she went for it because they were out of options. She wanted a bed that no one else had ever slept in, and this was the only way that it was going to happen. Neal had been scoping a jeweler for weeks, and knew the exact time the man that ran the shop disappeared without locking the place up. All they had to do was walk in when he went to the back room, take a handful of watches, and get out of there.

"It wasn't that easy, you know," Emma says at length.

"It never is. No matter how simple something sounds, it never really is. Please, continue," Archie prompts. He motions to the water again as she swallows heavily.

"So the old man goes to the back, and Neal and I go in as quietly as possible to not activate this bell he had over the door. And since I had the nimbler fingers, it was up to me to get the case opened as little as possible and pull out this line of watches, these big expensive things that I'm pretty sure even Mr. Hades wouldn't be caught dead in."

She tells him about the quick and effective end of her and Neal: the alarm trips, Neal bails, the old man catches Emma and locks the door until the police can get there. She never saw or heard from Neal ever again.

"You're one of the most upstanding citizens I've ever met. Between the police and the army, how did that come about?" Archie sounds more like she's reading him a thriller novel than recounting her life. There are few people who have heard the full tale, but she gets the same reaction every time and it has never failed to amuse her, even now.

"The old man couldn't let me go after he'd already called the cops. He couldn't betray his own morals. So, despite seeing how young I was, and knowing that it clearly wasn't my idea, he still waited with me until the police showed. He did tell them to go easy on me, since I was just an accomplice to burglary, but I still had to go to arraignment. I'd heard of a couple other thieves asking for military recruitment instead of jail, from when I was in the system. And that's what I did."

She did know of a couple of the former foster kids that had done this. Lily was one of them, but she still ended up serving a couple months for petty theft and did community service. Emma also had an ace up her sleeve: the man that had stopped her from being adopted. All she had to do was mention Staff Sergeant George King's name, and the judge granted her permission to join the reserves and serve community service after her basic training was completed.

"You've had uh, quite the history Emma."

"The judge told me that without King's name and my already elevated status from the time in Ingrid's care, he would've sent me to prison," she finishes, glancing at the clock and realizing that what felt like seconds was already over an hour.

"We've already run out of time, unfortunately. Will you be back next week?"

She sits and evaluates how she's feeling. They've just started to scratch the surface, but there's so much in her twelve years in service that they haven't even covered yet, including both deployments. And even though she's told the story of how she ended up in the army before, there's a significant weight taken off her shoulders, like this is the last time she ever has to tell that story if she chooses.

"Yes, I will be. Same time? David still has me on military leave for another two months, but maybe coming here every week will keep me occupied until it's time for me to go back to work."

"Excellent, see you next week then." He rises when she does and shakes her hand, giving her his signature calming smile.

Walking out of the office and onto the chilly streets, November air nipping at her heels, Emma already feels like a better version of herself than what came home from Afghanistan.

-x-

Normally, Emma would already have everything back in order if she were returning from drill weekend. Her laundry would all be completed and put away, and she would feel justified lounging around her apartment doing whatever else she wanted to do. Instead, she's waffling on unpacking all the duffel bags that Ruby had (very cleverly, honestly) hidden in her apartment. It's not that she doesn't want to get cleaned up and organized, because she normally loves her tidiness, but finding the motivation to do any of it when she's still on leave from the station and now has access to her DVD collection and Netflix is really, really difficult.

With Killian at work, she knows that now would be an ideal time to work on all this. But anything she needs to do would require getting up from her couch, and she just doesn't think she can accomplish that right now. Especially as the temperatures drop outside her apartment.

Killian swings by when he's done at work, smelling like a multitude of things. She has no real desire to steal his coat but has no reason to push him away, so she happily accepts when he settles down next to her, pulling her feet into his lap after he sets a small bakery box on the coffee table in front of her.

"What's that?" she asks, mostly unwilling to sit up from her comfortable position sunk into the couch.

"Welcome home gift from Belle," he explains, his fingers wriggling beneath the blankets to find her ankle, and even that is buried under a layer of fuzzy socks and sweatpants. His fingers are warm when they finally make contact with her bare skin, and she sighs as his fingers glide around her ankle and up her calf. "Did you get much done today?"

She grumbles a little bit, unwilling to admit that she didn't do anything at all, but he doesn't push. He does lean forward to grab the box back up off the coffee table, opening it to show her the perfect cupcakes nestled inside with her swans on top.

"If you'd like, I'll help with anything you ask of me. If you work for one hour, you can have one of these. We'll save the other two for after the dinner I'm making you tomorrow."

"What're you making me tomorrow?"

"You'll see. I have to make it here because I can't use the electric stove for what I'm planning. But I think you'll like it."

She hums a little while she considers him, looking between his amused expression and the cupcakes being presented to her. Finally, Emma shrugs and slowly extracts herself from the blankets, immediately regretting her decision when she shivers hard enough to chatter her teeth. Killian is right there to pull her close, rubbing his hands up and down her arms outside the long sleeve thermal top she put on when she woke up.

"That cupcake better be worth it," she tells him, kissing him once and enjoying the way his lips linger before they get to work.

The cupcake is more than worth it. And they end up working for longer than an hour, by the time they finish for the day. Killian dutifully carries each load of laundry to the laundry room just outside her door. He sets it down and waits as Emma unloads the dryer into a waiting empty basket, which Killian carries back to her bedroom while she takes care of starting up the next cycle on each machine.

Her cupboards are still mostly bare, but Killian takes over cleaning in there while she folds laundry, making sure the products that have been left behind haven't expired yet. He offers to go grocery shopping with her later, but she waves him off and orders a pizza for a late dinner. They eat off paper plates in the living room while a movie plays, with Killian in his favorite recliner and Emma stretched on the couch. The apartment is slowly losing that stale feeling, but it still has a way to go.

To help along making it feel lived in, Emma lights candles and turns down the lamps in the living room when they're done eating and all the loose ends have been taken care of for the night. She settles back in under a blanket while Killian selects another movie. His uniform is sitting folded on her dresser, clean and fresh for his late shift tomorrow, and he's changed into a set of flannel bottoms he keeps at her place.

This is the easiness she missed most. Her friendship with Killian was always as comfortable as her favorite pair of jeans, and it only enhanced that when they started in on the path that would lead them to a relationship. So as he snags the remote off the table and shimmies under the blanket with her, she sighs in total contentment, happily accepting the warmth he has to offer.

When her eyes start drooping closed longer and longer, she finally relents and struggles up off the couch. She leans over to give him another kiss, mumbling about locking up and blowing out the candles when he comes to bed. It's easy, then, to stumble into her bedroom and fall into bed, not even waking up whenever Killian does join her but comfortably waking up with her hand pressed to his lower back under his t-shirt in the morning.

Yet another transition clicks into place when she wakes up. They've gone from whatever they were at the start, to friends, and then to friends with benefits and an awkward gray area before they began a relationship. And all through that, they've been these two entities that co-exist in a beautiful harmony in two separate places. But now she's thinking that maybe she doesn't want two separate dwellings anymore.

-x-

"In basic training, I made a friend named Graham."

This is going to be the hardest day of therapy that she's had, yet. Archie has been incredibly helpful, listening intently to every word that has come out of her mouth not only about her time in the army, but also into the issues from her childhood that she buried deep beneath the surface. With just a week before Christmas, she needs to get this out of her brain and maybe, again, this will have to be the last time she ever has to tell the story of how Graham died in her arms after a routine PT test, and how devastated she was to lose the man that had quickly become inseparable from her.

Maybe this is the last time she'll have to tell that story, and the story about meeting Walsh. She chokes her way through telling Archie about the pictures he took without her knowledge, and how he almost used them to bribe her. He had described their sexual encounters in detail to members of his detachment, which was thankfully not the same as hers. When it got back to her, and when she heard the rumor that there were apparently photographs to go with it, she threatened to sue him for sexual misconduct. Knowing that it would probably result in a dishonorable discharge, Walsh seemed to fade away out of the military, instead choosing to keep his head down as he finished out his contract.

The water she drinks after that story just manages to keep the bile from rising in her throat, but it's a close thing.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss regarding those memories?"

"No," Emma answers quickly. "No, thank you." The repetition is at least more human than the anguish that clawed its way out of her throat, so she's proud of herself for that. "I do have something else I want to discuss, though, and I don't know if this is something you've seen a lot or not."

"Go right ahead then, and I'll help any way I can."

"I've noticed that when I'm alone, I can't seem to get as comfortable as I used to be. I mean, at night. I spend a lot of nights with Killian, but when I'm home alone, I don't settle."

"You just got back from ten months where you were practically crawling over each other all hours of the day. It's normal to feel lonely. Especially because I imagine people are still getting used to you being back, correct?"

"Yeah, sometimes they still forget that they can just call me or stop by or text me."

"It's a very lonely existence when you return, Emma. You're used to having a roommate and coworkers and military friends who you can talk to about anything surrounding you at all times. It's a huge adjustment for you, and for those who you're coming back to. Although, it sounds like Killian's had the easiest time adjusting to you being back." He says this with a gentle smile, having only just gotten Emma to admit to their relationship the week before.

"He's always been that way, though. No matter what army stuff I throw at him, he adjusts and acclimates and just does better than most people would ever even try."

"That is typical of coming home to a loved one," he reassures her, since her tone sounds like this is something out of the ordinary and she knows it. "I think you'll find everyone else adjusting faster when you go back to work. This time seems loneliest while you're doing nothing more than sitting at home, or waiting for the one person who remembers you're back."

"You're probably right, but I feel like it's more than that." She struggles to find the words she's grasping for, completely at a loss for how to describe what she's feeling. She's never had the urge to cohabitate with someone, but it's becoming glaringly obvious that she's no longer thriving living on her own. And with a year of an actual relationship under their belt on top of the multiple years of friendship, Emma's sure that part of what she's longing for is the next step.

"I want to move in with Killian, but I don't know if I'm rushing things along. We've been together for over a year, but for a large portion of that, I was out of the country. We're just settling back into a system here, and finding our rhythm as a couple. And it still feels so new. Is suggesting we live together rushing thing too much?"

"That's a question only you can answer, and only Killian can answer. I recommend talking to him about that, Emma. And really looking inside your own heart for what you feel is best."

It's snowing outside when she leaves Archie's office, the fat flakes tumbling down at a leisurely pace as she walks the short distance to Granny's diner. She's had a standing appointment with her usual order after every appointment, the grilled cheese and onion rings being set on the counter right after she walks in now that Granny knows when her appointments end. They're still the best onion rings she's ever had, even though Killian did make her duck fat fries, and she also made orgasm noises as they ate them that night after their clean-a-thon.

There's also hot chocolate waiting for her at her normal seat, and she sips at that while she thinks about what she just discussed with Archie. It's not that she needs to live with someone, she's just finally coming to an understanding that the solitude she used to enjoy is far less pleasurable than being with Killian, or surrounded by her friends. She does think the good Dr. Hopper is correct that a lot of things will finally settle back to normal when she starts work, but she's getting to the point where, when she goes to bed at night, she doesn't want to do it alone, if it can be avoided.

At least she finally knows what she wants for Christmas. Now to just find the best way to bring it up to Killian.

-x-

"Where are you going?" She's barely awake yet, as it's Christmas morning and she had every intention of sleeping in as long as possible beneath the comforter she got Killian and gave him the night before. But he must have something else in mind, because he's climbing out from beneath the covers, exposing her to the frigid morning air before he tucks the heavy blankets back around her shoulders.

"I'm going to make you Christmas brunch, love," he tells her, shuffling around to her side of the bed to kiss her forehead. She wants to reach for him, but that would mean willingly extracting herself from beneath the covers, and that's just not going to happen. So she lets him go as she burrows deeper, content to close her eyes as the comforting sounds of Killian in his kitchen filter in through the cracked doorway.

"There are few things as heartwarming as seeing you shift to the very center of our bed, Swan," Killian murmurs next to her ear. Her eyes spring open, because she swears he was just in the kitchen, but a quick glance at his clock shows that she was out for almost an hour before he returned.

"You're one to talk," she mumbles into the fabric still pulled up close to her face to keep her warm. "If you'll recall, you have the same bad habit of traveling in your sleep."

He shifts onto the bed so he's kneeling over her, bracing himself with a hand on either side of her body as he bends low to nose along her neck to the spot behind her ear. She shivers beneath him, and it has nothing to do with the cold for once. She shifts around to accommodate him, his body pressed between her thighs and pulling her further awake even with all the blankets between them.

They spend way longer than she thought they would doing nothing more than leisurely kissing, Killian's tongue sweeping through her mouth to give her hints of the coffee he already consumed while he was preparing brunch. While his body is warm, her hands are chilled where they clutch the back of his sweater. Despite the holiday, and the very enjoyable activities they're currently partaking in (especially with Killian slowly attempting to coax her out from under the covers to access the hem of her shirt), she grumbles as she breaks the moment.

"When we buy a house, we are going to make sure we have a better heating system than the one this place has. Isn't the thermostat set at sub-tropical temperatures?"

"Close to it, I believe. It's the bloody forced air heating. If it wasn't for the – wait a moment. Did you just say 'when' we buy a house? Are we buying a house now, Swan?"

"Yeah, we are. I would hate moving in this weather, but I'm sure we can get everyone to help out if we offer hot alcoholic beverages and damn good food when it's all done." She starts to list off the friends they could get to help, knowing that the restaurant is still closed on Mondays for the time being, and Robin is still on light duty as the winter means less people touring the surrounding forests in Storybrooke. She's on a roll making plans when Killian places a finger over her lips, his expression wide-eyed and lovingly surprised, if she had to describe it.

"Emma. Are you serious? Would you like to look for a place for us to live?"

She can't help the look that crosses over her features, her lips twisting up into a wide smile as her eyes crinkle at the corners, and yeah, she's been thinking of this for weeks now but Killian's expression further cements her determination that this is what she wants.

"I mean, yeah. If you want to, that is."

He doesn't answer, just kisses her smile with his own as they sink into giddiness.

"Merry Christmas," Emma tells him as she finally shoves off all the covers in order to drag him back under after they've stripped each other bare. They only leave the bed once the oven timer beeps to let them know their brunch is ready. Killian makes sure to leave an extra sweater at the foot of the bed for her as he scrambles into his clothes and out of the room to set the table.

By the time she wanders out, her stomach is growling from the cacophony of aromas drawing her to the kitchen table. He's outdone himself for the two of them, and a happy sigh escapes her as she spots the signature mug of hot chocolate sitting next to her usual seat. There's a plate with steam still rising from the ham, egg, and cheese breakfast cups he made, and from the individual bowls of cinnamon roll oatmeal sitting by their plates. He's laid out bagels and croissants, and homemade hash brown casserole rounds out the table.

Instead of sitting in her seat right away, she waits until Killian is seated and leans over to kiss him, quick but hard, by way of thanks for the food on the table.

It's only once she's settled into her own chair that she looks up and sees the smile on his face, his fork hovering over his food as he looks at her with love and adoration and a thousand other emotions right there in his eyes for her to see.

"Stop that," she says, fighting down a smile of her own and blushing to the roots of her hair.

"Stop what?"

"That face. That expression on your face. Stop that."

He sets his fork down with purpose, propping both his hands under his chin and turning up the smarm and charm in his expression. "Is this better?"

She laughs before shoving a forkful of hash browns into her mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing before she gives him a pointed look. "You're weird, and lucky that I love you."

"I'm well aware of that, love. No clue how you got past the strangeness to fall madly in love with me, but I'm quite glad you did." He winks when he's finished speaking before starting back in on his own plate of food.

"It's mostly because of the chef thing. Let's be honest."

He chuckles at that, taking the next moment to cheers his mug of coffee against hers of hot chocolate with a wide smile on his face.

Later, when all the presents have been opened and the lights are off save for the tree in the corner of his living room, Killian's hand is stroking down her neck in a move reminiscent of that first time they slept together and he was doing his best to ease the tension out of her. It worked then, and it's working now, as she buries her face against the soft sweater he's been wearing for most of the day.

"Next year," he murmurs against her forehead where he half-dozes in the quiet of evening, "we'll be sitting in front of a tree in our very own living room."

The realization sends a pang of warmth through her, and Emma knows without a doubt that this path, something she once gave up hope of ever having for herself after the rockiness of her past, is the exact one she's meant to be on with this exact person she's with.