Both of them scramble out of bed in the morning. Well, Emma scrambles out of bed at the sound of her phone alarm going off, waking him in the process of course.

"I gotta go," she grumbles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Catch you later, Jones."

"See you, Swan," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he glances over at the clock. It still early for him, and he highly doubts Liam is up at the moment, so he decides to take his time and get a little bit more sleep.

The bed always feels double its size when Emma isn't in it. He's grown fond of her presence next to his in bed, even though they've only shared a bed a handful of times when one of them is too lazy to go back to their apartment after hanging out. Her scent lingers on the empty spot next to him, and he fights the battle of trying not to lose himself in it. He groans, throwing the pillow over his head and sighing heavily into the mattress covers, remembering that he doesn't have any more than one hour of bedtime left, excluding the amount of time he actually needs to prepare himself for the day.

Even with his schedule of getting up early before, he's been slacking off recently, and no one really complains about it anyways, so he doesn't see the harm in it. Cherishing the extra moments in his comfortable bed has always been better than not, so that's exactly what he does.

He rubs the back of his neck as he walks into Granny's, scanning the diner to see Liam drinking his coffee at one of the table. He sighs and moves his body toward his brother, dropping down into the seat in front of him and motioning at Ruby for the regular.

"What's next on the list, brother?"

"Well, there are still some dealings that need to be sealed back in England, except I can't exactly do that considering Elsa is due soon," Liam explains, shaking his head with a small smile. "We could delay it, but tourism season is starting soon and I don't think it'd be a good way to start off. Perhaps you can do this for me."

Swan was right, bloody hell, he thinks, remembering the conversation from the night before. "So you want me to go back to England?"

"As soon as possible, yes. No more than a week's business of finishing everything off to bring it all over here," Liam elaborates, just as Killian's drink slides in front of him. "Is it too much to ask?"

"No, of course not," Killian quickly deflects back. "No more than a week, right? Perhaps earlier?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he mutters, picking his mug up and taking a drink out of it. He knows that making a decision without Emma's input is not a good idea, but what is there to discuss? Liam needs to take care of Elsa, and he's the only other heir to the company who can take on such a job. "Do you have the departure and everything planned already?"

"I do," Liam says, eyeing him carefully. "What of Emma? Would she… you know, mind about this sudden plan?"

"I'm sure she'll understand," he replies, shrugging. She may be angry or frustrated, maybe, but it's just going to be a risk he's going to take. "I'll just have to explain to her the details when I see her later." Setting his coffee down he leans forward. "So, when's the trip?"

He knows this is bad - taking up an offer like this the instant he was told, but he's got no other choice. He doesn't want to delay the plans, and with Liam having to be of service for Elsa, he can't do anything else but be the pawn in the game at the moment. It's not going to be a long trip anyways, a week at maximum and probably less than a week if he can get all problems sorted out quickly.

If their schedules weren't so faulty, they would have more time to talk about all of this, to actually take in that he's heading back to England for a bit after years of leaving all of that behind, but Emma calls in saying she won't be able to hang out with him, which means no discussing with her. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, letting the water run over his body from the shower.

Droplets of it hitting the ground beneath him echoes around in the shower as he braces his hands forward on the cool tile walls, trying to conjure up all possible outcomes of talking to her about this sudden change of plans. The hot water beating against his skin releases the tension that's been building up as knots underneath his skin, the steam fogging up the room while his mind is having a quiet battle of what in the world were you thinking agreeing to this without her input first?

Groaning, he stands up straight, reaching forward and turning the handle of the shower off, the last thing he hears is the sound of the water draining out. Pushing the shower curtain out of the way and reaching for the towel, he dries off, taking his time.

He doesn't really feel hungry, so after cleaning himself up by getting dressed and shaving just the appropriate bit to keep his scruff at minimum, he plops down on his couch and turns the TV on, opting to watch some Netflix for awhile. What he doesn't expect is falling asleep after watching a couple of episode of Game of Thrones. It's not pleasant to wake up to banging at the door with the TV still on and your neck and back sore from the position of sleep on a piece of furniture not meant to be slept on. Blowing out a heavy breath, he presses the button on the remote and shuts the TV off, going to answer the door.

It's a not-so-good-looking Emma Swan standing in front of him, and he think he looks like shit standing here after just waking up at… god knows what time. "Swan… what're you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" she asks, evading the question.

He nods and steps back from the door, letting her walk into his apartment. There's a bit of tension there, how she holds herself up, how she seems angry or upset, and he doesn't know why. He wants to know why though.

"When were you going to tell me?" she questions quietly, turning to look at him as he closes the door.

Jerking his head to the side, he narrows his eyes at her in confusion, shaking his head. "Tell you about what, love?"

"You going back to England!" she shouts in response.

It makes sense now. The brokenness in her eyes, the lilt of her voice as if she's going to cry, the fear written all over her face. "Swan… Emma, love, that's for a week! I… Liam needs me to do something for him since he can't leave Elsa alone with child," he quickly explains, the words just tumbling out of his mouth quickly because he needs her to understand before she makes some rash assumption - not that she hasn't already. "How did you know of this?"

"Elsa, she, well she sort of blurted it out but there weren't any specific details," she responds a bit more quietly. "I thought you were leaving."

"You should bloody well know I wouldn't ever leave you, darling," he quietly says. "I promised that before, and it's not changing. I'm just going to England for a week and then coming back - and if I'm lucky, perhaps I can return earlier than that."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Aye, but when you called last night saying you were busy, I decided against bothering you until later." He shrugs, scratching the spot behind his ear. "I couldn't deny my brother, so I took up the offer immediately to take it off his and his pregnant wife's hands."

She sighs. "Right, sorry for reacting so quickly. I just… you know, issues."

"I know."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Okay."

He sigh from relief, walking up to her and wrapping his arms tightly around her. "Okay?" he whispers, pressing his nose to the side of her neck.

They just stand there for awhile.

Hugs are important for them. He's lost Milah, after not holding on tight enough. She's lost Graham from not holding on tight enough, and then she lost Walsh when she did hold on too tightly. So embraces are important - significant in their relationship. They mean plenty of things, and sometimes they don't meant the same for the both of them, but sometimes they do. Sometimes he just wants to cling onto her forever, to have some happily ever after like fairy tales. But then, oh god, sometimes it's just a small little hug after not seeing each other for the entire day, and even those mean something to him. It means progress, it means that they don't worry about what others are thinking, it means that he's just as devoted and serious as she is.

Any sort of action of affection between them means something, small or big, important or not. He cherishes and relishes every moment he gets with her, because as much as she's afraid of him leaving, he's afraid of her running. They're scared of each other's insecurities, but somehow they manage to pull it off and patch it up when one wound peels open again. It's an automatic process between the two, as if it's already a habit, but he knows one day they won't need to worry about it, one day they'll just be happy without having any more concerns and worries.

She pulls back, looking up at him with a curious set of eyes. "When do you leave?"

"End of the week," he answers.

She frowns slightly. "Guess I'll have to spend as much time with you until then."

"It's only a week," he reiterates, making it out as a small deal. "You can't miss me that much, Swan," he teases. "Because I'm going to be the one who misses you more, since I'm the one going across the sea for a week."

"Are you seriously challenging me about who's going to miss who more?" she questions in a playful tone, raising a brow at his attitude. "I don't think that's a variable we can measure, so let's stick to the fact we're just going to need to last a week without each other," she says, a small yawn following after her talking.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted," she mutters, leaning her head forward onto his chest. "In the five years of being in the Sheriff, I have never done so much paperwork in my life," is her complaint.

He chuckles. "You exhibit more exaggeration over paperwork than I do." Bending down, he slips his arms under her knees and picks her up, walking toward his bedroom to drop her on to the bed. "Rest. Storybrooke doesn't have enough nefarious crime for all of us to work - we can manage without one Sheriff around today," he tells her with all the care in the world. "Besides, having a lady warm my bed, especially the one I like, has always been a massive advantage."

"Oh, shut up," she grumbles, kicking her boots and slipping her jacket off. "What're you going to do?"

"I suppose I'll gather some stuff to pack into a suitcase." He shrugs, opening his closet and fishing his suitcase out from the top of the shelf. "I promise I'll be quiet so you can sleep."

"Thank you Mr. Thoughtful."

He turns around, chuckling. "You're most welcome."

He swears he can hear her grumbling something about his cocky responses, but he's too happy that she's not that angry with him, that everything will work out fine, that he'll be back from that trip in a week or less, that life is being good to him now.

They don't exactly get much done after he's finished packing the majority of his necessities. He falls into bed with her for an hour or two, just enjoying the way her body is pressed against his warmly, securely, without having a worry in the world for anything else. And for the slightest moment, he wishes this is it. Wishes that he doesn't have to worry about what the world and what life has in store for them outside of his apartment. Having Emma really is enough for him, just enough for him to be eternally happy, quite frankly. Big, bold statement as it is, the weight of the matter is still the truth.

He sighs into her hair, breathing in the faint scent he's started to grown so bloody used to, he can even smell it even when he's not a couple of feet distant from her. He wishes he could remain in this perpetual state of bliss, because honestly, he has less than week to be by her side before he's off on a plane back to England for a week, doing things he'd be both excited and dread for.

Letting his hand slide over her middle, he finds her hand right by her stomach, and he interlaces his fingers with hers, giving it a small little squeeze. She does the same in response, and he smiles into her hair, pressing a lingering kiss before pulling back and letting himself continue to breathe in what she has to offer for him. Just her presence is enough to make him feel lighter - there's nothing else in the world that could substitute the amount of affection and care for her with anything else - and he wonders if he's the same for her. He wonders if he's as much of an anchor keeping everything at bay calmly, just as she is for him.

She turns in his arms, her nose pressed against the hollow of his throat and his lips part as he stares down at her, the bundle of a woman he clearly cannot stop thinking about and cherishing. Glancing up at him, she smiles, and his hand traces patterns on her knuckles from their entwined hands. He briefly wonders about what she must be thinking, if she's possibly having as many thoughts as he is having right now, if her particularly crowded brain must be working on and off from the recent buzz of a schedule.

She sighs. "Do you have a ride to the airport yet?" she asks.

"No," he responds quietly, confusion masking his emotions the moment her abrupt question comes into light, "unless you're offering your services."

Immediately, her face lights up, the uncertainty sprawled across her face fleeting the moment he answers. "Good, because I call dibs on driving you down to the airport," she promises.

"Sounds very much like a movie cliché, Swan," he says jokingly, thinking of the ridiculous goodbye scenes at airports. "Didn't know you were one of those people."

Emma scoffs. "I am not one of those people," she insists.

He hums, raising a challenging brow at her before lowering his head slightly, nudging her nose with his. "Of course not," he murmurs, ghosting his lips briefly over hers, smiling. "Because my Swan is not going to participate in any stereotypical mundane traditions of saying goodbye."

"Oh, so you own me now?"

"I think I've owned you since we first made eye contact, love."

Immediately, she deflects, "No, god no."

"How about yes?" he challenges, grinning unbelievably happily.

God, he loves this, all of this. Every little moment of banter they share in bed or in the kitchen, every little moment of frustration she shows whenever he may best her, or when neither of them want to say anything and just fall into bed together and somehow, through some floundering sort of wizardry, they find comfort enough to spend another hour or two discussing things of no real interest after lingering silences.

But sometimes, he can't help but muse about the possibilities of taking their relationship further. Not marriage, definitely not that, but perhaps moving in together. Going on more dates. However, that's a real issue considering there is not much you can technically do in Storybrooke. However, with his mind always thinking of intuitive ways, perhaps he can build up another brilliant date to surprise Emma with.

"Swan? I think I should go give David a call about you not coming in today."

"You do that." She yawns. "I actually need to sleep this time. I didn't get much last night."

Grinning, he kisses her forehead one last time before climbing out of bed, reaching for the phone on his nightstand before exiting the room promptly, shutting the door quietly behind him.

When David questions - with quite a curious tone of course - he carefully deflects the fact that she's at his apartment, in his bed, curled up and sleeping because exhaustion and fatigue have gotten the best of her. Meanwhile, he also notifies David of his leave by the end of the week, and at first he hisses some threats at him for leaving so abruptly without much notice, but with a shrug of his shoulders, he excuses himself and hangs up on the call, stuffing the phone back into his pocket before making himself a cup of coffee.

By the time he's back in his bedroom, she's completely out.

Yes, he definitely loves her and there's no turning back.