-E-
She feels angry. Then, she feels angry that she is angry, standing amidst shattered glass and ruined pancakes and she takes off after him, wrenching open the bathroom door to see Killian standing in the shower, good hand braced on the wall, head bowed and shoulders moving with either heaving breaths or sobs, she's not sure.
Then Emma is angry that he didn't even think to take off his splint before turning on the shower and after she strips, she grabs the plastic cover and steps inside, finching a little as some of the cold water hits her skin. Reaching around him, she turns the knob so they won't get hypothermia in their own bathroom and waits a couple seconds before sliding between him and the water, swallowing a yelp when the water burns her back.
Oops.
Throughout all this, Killian doesn't say a word, so Emma rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes before wrapping the plastic around the splint.
"Stop." He mumbles, but Emma ignores him, sliding the rubber band into place to seal the plastic, through it's likely too late anyway. "Swan." He protests as Emma reaches for his body wash, "Swan."
"Bloody hell!"
She's sure the look on her face is mutinous, not that Killian is looking at her. He stares past the top of her head, jaw clenching while the loofah he knocked from her hand sits on the floor between them.
"Stop trying to take care of me."
"It's your fault, you know?" Emma bites out, poking two fingers hard against his shoulder. But solid wall of muscle that he is, Killian doesn't even flinch, still staring above her head. "I was fine all alone, looking out for only myself until you walked into my diner and suave and dashingly handsome, making me fall in love with a scoundrel like you. You told me, you promised me you would never leave and here you are running. Quite literally, I might add." SHe pokes him again and he catches her wrist, bringing it back down to her side.
"Why are you doing that? Why are you running?"
His voice is broken when he finally speaks, desolate blue eyes staring down at her, "Because I am ashamed, Emma. And scared of losing you and everything that matters to me."
Cold disbelief fills her gut as her expression hardens, "You really think that would happen, given everything we've been through?"
"You tell me. Can you honestly believe that our future would look the same with me as a cripple? Unable to properly hold my love, let alone accomplish all my career goals enough so I can provide for us?" His voice raises to a shout, echoing in the bathroom and Emma's eyes fill with tears, of few of Killian's escaping down his own cheek.
Emma moves so Killian can step back under the spray, crossing her arms as she tries to control her voice from wavering with her next words, "No one said this would be easy. But Killian," She turns around to see him with his forehead cradled in his hand, shoulders rigid as he faces away from her, "I just want you. Even if you lost your entire hand, you would still be you and that's all I want. We will figure out the rest later, just please stop running from me." She barely gets the last word out before a sob catches in her throat and Killian moves almost instinctively at the sound, turning and wrapping her in his embrace, chin on her head as he rocks them back and forth on their feet.
"You treat me like you'll break me if you get too close or if you hug me too tight." He whispers, barely audible over the water, "You can't do that. I can't bear to live like that."
"I'm sorry." Emma squeezes her arms around him experimentally and Killian's lips move against her hair.
"Aye, lass. Just like that."
It's the first time in so long that they've been so intimately pressed together, but it's more healing than sexual, with every inch of their bare skin touching.
"You're everything I need, Killian. Missing limbs or not." She feels his full-body sigh and knows they're still a ways away from being okay, but this is a good start.
"And I thank my lucky stars every day that a dashing rapscallion like meself walked into your diner and won the heart of an ethereal creature."
"Ugh, sap."
"Yes, but yours." Killian promises, though there is still a note of insecurity in his voice. Maybe they will never get past their old fears and doubts, but she supposes maybe it's just what makes them who they are.
"By the way, the remains of your tantrum are still on the kitchen floor, waiting for you to clean it up. There's no way in hell I'm doing that for you now."
-/-
"Hey, welcome back from Boston." Emma calls out as she watches the door swing shut behind Neal.
"Thanks." Neal grimaces, nodding at Killian and Leroy as he passes their booth. It's a mid-morning lull and Ashley is in the back, prepping with Billy for lunch and the only people in the diner are Killian, Leroy and Walker, the latter of whom is slumbering in the booth while the other two pour excitedly over blueprints and maintenance guides, planning their spring project of fixing up Leroy's boat.
("Ship, love. It's a ship.")
"Hey, has Tamara been by yet?" Neal asks, sitting down at the center of the bar and Emma purses her lips, shaking her head. There's an unspoken agreement now that they are all civil to one another, smothering any ammunition the townspeople might use as gossip.
"Huh," Neal mutters, fiddling with his mug of coffee, "She went to train for her marathon, I thought she would be back by now."
Emma casts him a look, "Train? In February?" She says doubtfully.
"Well, she's very dedicated." Neal explains.
"Yeah, Neal-," Emma draws a breath, looking over his shoulder to where Killian sits, only to be met with his bright blue gaze. It's almost uncanny, the way her fireman is always able to anticipate when her eyes may wander over in his direction. "You know I'm not the jealous ex type…"
Neal's expression instantly turns wary but Emma plows on before she loses her nerve. "But training for a marathon in winter? Telling Ashley one day that she wants a big wedding back in Vancouver, then Aurora the next that she likes smaller ceremonies? Coming all the way here to Storybrooke with you, just to stay behind while you go to Boston to give your testimony?"
"Emma-,"
"Something doesn't add up, Neal. Look, we're all just trying to look out for you."
"I appreciate that, but you guys really don't know her. She's a big city girl. She just wanted to get to know the place where I grew up better. And besides, brides change their minds all the time- it doesn't mean anything."
"Have you even set a date?"
Neal stares at her, "No, we're waiting to see how the trial goes. C'mon Em. Cut her some slack. So she's a little different, so what? Not everyone fits into the five personality types this town allows for."
"Neal, you know I have this gut feeling about people, like my superpower-," She hisses but Neal pushes away from the counter, averting his gaze.
"Yeah, you always said. I never really bought it."
Emma leans back, his words stinging, "Yeah, you did." She retorts, snatching her rag and stalking off to clear tables, her free hand fiddling with the ring she's unconsciously pulled from her blouse.
"I'm off to the firehouse, love." Killian's hand rubs soothingly over her shoulder and Emma turns into his lips at her temple, closing her eyes for a second as she relaxes against him, "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Yeah. You'll be back for dinner?"
Killian winks, "Count on it."
Leroy waves as he follows the lieutenant out and Emma smiles in return, ducking into the kitchen as Ashley chats with Neal.
-/-
Tink calls Emma that night, excitedly explaining her success in convincing an old friend to come take Whale's shift on Valentine's day, a surprise for the hardworking paramedic. Emma vows in turn to make sure Ruby gets the night off to complete her end of the surprise so the couple can finally have a romantic night off.
When Emma tells Killian about it, he nods thoughtfully, regret crossing his face for a brief instant until he regains control of his features again.
"That sounds like a fine plan. I'm sure they will cherish the opportunity to spend time together."
"I was thinking… If Ruby's off that night, I don't want to make anyone else work in her place." Emma begins, tracing her fingers up his necklace, leaning her head up to look at him, "I thought maybe I'd take her shift and we can celebrate on a different date?"
"'Course, Swan." Killian replies easily, "It's not as though we can properly celebrate anyway." He says scornfully and Emma pushes herself up to kiss his cheek consolingly, patting his chest.
"They don't know it yet, but you just made Victor and Ruby very happy people."
Killian snorts, glowering petulantly at the TV until Emma pulls his face to hers to kiss him properly, which seems to appease him some.
"I promise we'll have a proper celebration once you get the all-clear."
"Promise?" Killian pouts and Emma laughs, giving him a final, smacking kiss.
"Cross my heart."
Killian heaves a dramatic sigh, "I suppose if you're working on Valentine's then I'll do the same. Perhaps I'll spend my evening at the firehouse so Locksley can take the mayor out. Or perhaps I'll swing by the Sheriff's station and see if I can help with the case. After all, you did get your date with Humbert, perhaps it's time I got mine."
Emma rolls her eyes, digging her hand into the hair at his neck, "You're impossible."
"You love me for it." Killian shoots back with a raised eyebrow and Emma just rests her head on his shoulder, not even faintly surprised when his head lands lightly on hers, dozing off not thirty minutes into their movie.
-/-
Killian wakes her on Valentine's by trailing kisses from her shoulder to neck, his tongue darting out to trace her collarbone that's been exposed by him tugging down the neckline of her sleep shirt.
"Happy Valentine's, my love." He says, breath tickling hotly against her ear and Emma shivers, curling her hand into his hair, pulling him down for a drugging kiss.
"Killian," She warns when his hand starts skimming her thigh, the velcro of his splint catching a little on her shorts. In show of solidarity (Emma is convinced it's more necessity), they've agreed to hold off all forms of sex until Killian gets the okay from his doctors. Emma is particularly stringent on this rule because she knows once she gets going, he won't be able to resist, as much as he believes that he can.
Plus, it would be downright cruel to get her jollies off, so to speak, when he's left to just… think.
It's gotten to the point where she sometimes has to cut off their goodnight kisses in bed, lest he's forced to go take a lap around the kitchen again until he's calmed down enough to get back into bed.
Friday's appointment can't come soon enough.
"Emma," Killian whines when she repositions his hand.
"If you set back your recovery time again, so help me God, I will start sleeping at the manor until you're fully recovered." Emma threatens, but they both know she's incapable of sleeping without him at this point.
Killian's forehead drops to her chest, dangerously close to the 'no fly zone' so Emma cups his cheeks, tilting his head to look up at her, "Friday." She says firmly.
"Today's Tuesday."
Emma traces the line of his jaw, trying not to laugh at his petulant frown, "You can do it. I believe in you." She turns to look at the clock, only to find a plate of cinnamon rolls and a mug topped with whipped cream almost as tall as the cup itself sitting on her nightstand.
"Oh, I do love you!"
Killian props her pillow against the headboard so she can sit up while Emma carefully reaches for the plate, balancing it between them on her knee.
"I'm still not putting out." Emma tells him, accepting one of the forks he hands to her and Killian chuckles, snaking his arm around her shoulders so he can lean in and take the bite Emma offers him.
Not long after their quaint breakfast in bed, Emma has to head to the diner to prepare for the night. Valentine's is always a busy evening, but it's still a favorite of Emma's, ever since she was a kid. She loves to see their customers dressed up, ready for a date night at the specially decorated diner, complete with candlelit tables and scattered rose petals, courtesy of her and Ruby's pet project when they were teenagers. At one point in time, the holiday used to make her feel lonely, until she realized being out of the limelight for the first time in a long time wasn't so bad. It was far better to focus on helping others achieve the perfect night rather than stew in her own heartbreak and loss.
And so, while she's busy delivering orders and pouring wine, she doesn't notice the diner door opening right away. They're almost at full capacity, nearing nine o'clock and the only seats open are at the bar. Emma finishes setting the plates down for the cobbler and his kindly wife before looking up to greet the newcomer.
Flowers. That's the first thing she sees. Blossoms and sprigs of all different colors, thrown together into a rather haphazard bouquet. It's so random and eccentric that it's almost endearing. Then Emma's eyes travel up to see a familiar blue, more gorgeous than the flowers he's holding and she squeals.
Wait no, actually it's Mary Margaret who squeals. Emma just gapes wordlessly, drawing the attention of her patrons. Her mother pushes her a little, causing Emma to stumble forward (when did Mary Margaret come out of the kitchen?) and Emma shoots her a glare over her shoulder, wishing for the first time that the one concession Mary Margaret made to never working at this diner wasn't on Valentine's day.
"Killian?" Emma breathes, stepping closer to him, expecting him to disappear like a daydream but her fingers touch his very solid bicep and his grin widens.
"Hullo darling."
Emma laughs, as lightly and freely as the first time he made her do so, and stretches herself up to cup his scruffy but cold cheeks, peppering warm kisses on every inch of skin she can find. Somehow, he manages to steady them after a few stabilizing steps backwards, shifting the flowers to one arm so he can anchor her to him with his bad arm around her waist.
"Easy, easy- steady on, Swan." He chuckles, regaining his balance. Emma pulls away with one last kiss on his lips, leaning back to peruse the extraordinary bundle of flowers tucked into the crook of his arm. "Mo, uh, obviously didn't have any more roses or carnations, so I asked for everything else he hand." Killian explains in a tone mixed with sheepishness and a little pride.
"Did you buy all his remaining flowers?" Emma almost giggles, but she stops herself, smiling giddy up at Killian's abashed features. This is easily one of the most romantic gestures she's ever received.
"No." He says, though the look in his eye suggests otherwise.
Emma takes the bouquet from him, spinning it around carefully to see all the flowers, "Well, I love it." She declares and wraps her hand around the lapel of his wool coat, drawing him in for a kiss for the benefit of their audience. "I love you," She whispers against his lips for his benefit solely.
"And I you, Swan." He gently brushes his knuckles against her cheek before straightening into what Emma calls his 'lieutenant pose,' shoulder's drawn back proudly, features placid, "Now, I didn't come here to interrupt your work. I'll go sit at the bar and you carry on as if there isn't a charming fireman watching your every enchanting move." He says with a wink.
Emma smiles, shaking her head a little, until Killian catches her wrist, plucking a singular snowbell from the bouquet and sidestepping Emma to reach her mother. Killian bows slightly at the waist, presenting Mary Margaret with the sprig with a murmured, "Milady."
Emma's heart swells, watching her mother's eyes fill with tears as she accepts the flower.
The rest of the night passes in a flurry of collecting dishes, serving dessert and coffee and not-so-secret glances between her and her lieutenant. After the last family has left, Emma and Killian convince everyone to head home, taking responsibility for the remainder of the closing duties.
It's then that Emma's finally able to kiss Killian the way she's been dying to do all night.
"What happened to working tonight?" She asks him, brushing her nose along his, feeling his smile under her lips.
"I tried, but I couldn't stay away." He responds, "Humbert could see me pining so he sent me on my way."
She lets him pull her closer so their hips are flush together, humming as he brushes aside the curls that frame her face.
"Mm, I have a confession to make, Swan." Killian says, brushing his scruff along the column of her neck.
"Most men do," Emma gasps as he sucks gently at her pulse point. His hands tighten almost imperceptibly around her and Emma smiles to herself, knowing that's his usual reaction of jealousy whenever she mentions other men, even jokingly. Killian has a possessive streak and it intrigues her greatly.
His fingers caress the back of her neck, his eyes focused on her lips until they finally flicker upwards to meet her eyes, half-hooded with desire. "I've always had a rather compelling fantasy about you in your uniform."
"Oh?" Emma manages to say breathlessly.
"Aye." The deep timbre of his voice sends tingles down to the pit of her stomach, igniting a heat between her thighs. Killian's finger traces a path down the center of her chest, following the necklace under her blouse until he reaches the ring and splays his large palm over her flat stomach, the heat from his skin burning through her blouse. Emma tries desperately not to launch herself at him, struggling to keep her breathing even. She knows Killian always had a thing for her in her waitress uniform. She isn't blind. Emma's seen the way his eyes rake over her form as she works, lingering on her legs that stay bare even in the wintertime, thanks to the effective indoor heating that Granny wisely decided to invest in. She's never missed the way his tongue swipes across his bottom lip whenever she straightens up or comes through the kitchen doors, even while she sports coffee stains on her skirt or has streaks of flour and berry juice on her face.
"Um…" Emma forces herself out of her reverie, dodging his kiss and stepping away with great difficulty, "I need- we need-,"
"What do you need, my love?"
Emma squeezes her eyes shut to avoid drowning in his sultry gaze. She wishes she could press her palms against her ears because his smooth voice is her ultimate weakness, but she shakes her head instead to clear it from the haze of lust clouding her judgement. "I need to finish closing up and you need to keep a lid on it until Friday. Or longer, if the doctors decide that."
"They won't." He says confidently and Emma shoots him a look.
"They better not." She mutters. "Now come on, Jones. Let's get this place tidied up so we can go home."
-/-
"Cinnamon apple french toast, special eggs and 'bangers.'" Emma slides the two plates in front of the eagerly waiting firemen, who pick up their forks and dig in with gusto.
"Any news?" Will asks out of a mouthful and Killian swallows before he answers.
"Graham finished calling the families that live in the targeted towns- their kids confirmed being bullied by Felix while they were at the group home, but haven't seen him since. Not all the fires were in residential areas, though."
"Still no news of Nightshade, then?"
Killian shakes his head dejectedly and Emma sighs.
"So Will, how was your Valentine's?" She asks, changing the subject to something cheerier, "Did Elsa enjoy whatever secretive romantic plan you cooked up for her?"
"You bet your arse she did. Wait-," Will looks up, confused and Emma just smirks at him, topping off his mug of coffee.
"Don't talk about her arse." Killian growls and Emma rolls her eyes.
"Killian," The diner door swings open, cutting her off and Emma gasps in delight when she sees who it is.
"August!"
From behind her, Killian makes a slight noise of disgruntlement as Emma all but runs up and throws her arms around a rosy-cheeked August, laughing as he lifts her off her feet and swings her around a little. Some things never change.
"When did you get back to town?"
"Last night, actually." August grins and waves at a few other patrons who call out their greetings and follows Emma back to the bar, shaking Will's hand before extending his hand out to Killian.
"And you must be the new lieutenant everyone's been yammering on about."
"Killian Jones." He says a little haughtily, and Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes again, "And you are…?'
"August. Marco's son." He responds cheerfully, seemingly unaffected by Killian's scowl.
"So what brings you back to humble little Storybrooke?" Emma asks quickly, throwing Killian a warning look that seems to make him lower his hackles some.
August takes a seat next to Killian, an easy smile dancing across his lips and dumps his usual load of sugar into his coffee, "Other than because I missed my father? I heard Neal was back in town with a guest."
"Tamara?" Will pipes up, polishing off his plate and August nods slowly.
"You know her?" There's a little less disdain in Killian's tone now as interest takes over.
"We met while I was in Vancouver. I'm a travel writer," He adds for Killian's benefit, "She's sort of a conniving kind of character, but I didn't think much of it at the time. You know how some journalists can be. Plus, everyone knew that Neal was still hung up on Emma, so I didn't think anything would come out of that relationship." August continues, oblivious to the glance Emma and Will trade because Killian is studiously avoiding everyone's eyes. "Then my papa called me and said they are engaged?" August looks around for confirmation, receiving nods in answer, some more terse than others.
"So you came back to what, warn him?" Killian asks in a lowered tone and August shrugs cryptically.
"I'm not sure he would listen to me. We had a… disagreement when I found out he was with Tamara. She and I have a history." August says evasively over his mug of overly-sweetened coffee.
"Wait, I thought Tamara was a fact checker for the Vancouver Courier." Emma rubs absentmindedly at a spot on the counter.
"Only because she can't get published."
"Explains why she's always lurking about, trying to ask questions." Killian muses and Emma grimaces in agreement.
"You think she's trying to write about us?" Will says indignantly, already spoiling for a fight.
"You need to be careful around her." August warns, draining his cup and handing Emma a couple of bills. "Gotta run, I promised Papa I would meet him at your mother's diner for breakfast. Good to meet you, Lieutenant. Will." August gives a final bob of his head before strolling out, whistling a faint tune. Emma leaves with Will's empty plate to go clean more tables and doesn't return to the bar after she seats a couple more customers who just wandered in.
"So, you used to be close. You and this August… manchild." Killian says in a forced casual tone that has Will deliberately picking up a nearby newspaper and hiding behind it, humming off tune while he does so.
"Oh, Killian." Emma reaches across the counter to wipe away a nonexistent smear of syrup from the corner of his lips, "Now is not the time to be jealous."
"Jealous?" Killian scoffs like that is the most absurd thing Emma has ever uttered, "Why would I be jealous? Though," He cocks his head to the side in a move Emma secretly finds adorable even though she knows he thinks it's suave, "I do know you're partial to men in leather jackets."
"August is an old friend. Like Graham." Emma adds for emphasis, "He was one of the first people to leave Storybrooke and really make a life for himself in the big city. He's the one who helped Neal and I apply to Boston and get settled far away from home." Emma shrugs, "These days, he's more preoccupied with traveling so we hardly see him anymore, except the rare times he blows back into town before leaving just as unexpectedly."
"Hmph." Killian looks slightly appeased by this explanation and Emma smiles, knowing his broodiness has a lot to do with the doctor's appointment he has later this afternoon.
"Well," Will sets down the paper with a flourish, making a show of checking the time, "Time to get going if we don't want to be late."
"Hey," Emma reaches out, lightly curling her hand in the collar of Killian's shirt, "I'll see you later?"
"Of course, love." Killian lets her pull him in for a quick kiss, leaning over the counter to accommodate the space between them.
"Good luck with your appointment."
"Listen," Will glances furtively around as he pulls on his coat, "Don't harangue Elsa when she comes in later, alright?"
Emma smirks, "Worried she might change her mind about you?"
"Shut up, Nolan."
Killian shoves Will toward the door, nearly making him collide with another patron coming in.
"Hi, Neal." Will says in an awful excuse for a nonchalant tone, widening his eyes at Emma behind Neal's back. Better you than us, Will mouths, pointing emphatically at him until Killian shoves him into the cold, throwing Emma a raised eyebrow before he shuts the door firmly behind them.
Neal smiles blithely at Emma and Ruby, who's just come out of the kitchen, the latter spinning around with a contemptuous huff and disappearing back behind the swinging doors.
"She's never going to forgive me, is she?" Neal takes a seat near the middle of the bar and Emma shakes her head, walking over with a pot of coffee.
"Someone's gotta remind you what an asshole you were. Who better than Rubes?"
Neal presses his lips together in silent agreement before hastily changing the subject. "So is it just me or was August just walking down the street?"
"He got back last night." Emma confirms, leaving quickly to pick up the orders from the kitchen. When the other patrons assure her they don't need anything more, she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she's about to have.
"August told me you guys ran into each other in Vancouver."
The smile slips off Neal's face for a second before he puts up another, more tense quirk of his lips. "Yeah, that's right."
"Yeah. Emma fiddles with her pen for a second, "You know, he said the same thing about Tamara that I was trying to warn you about earlier."
"Emma," Neal starts but Emma continues on, wholly undeterred this time, no matter who Neal says.
"What happened in Vancouver, Neal? You two used to be so close."
"What happened is August is still a pathological liar and a huge flake, just like when he was little."
"Really?" Emma sighs, "He was ten. We were all pathological liars then. You're really going to side with Tamara over the instincts of the people you've known your whole life?"
Neal rubs a hand over his face, "Emma, she's my fiance."
"Exactly." Emma crosses her arms defiantly, "Still time to get out."
He looks up at her incredulously, "Are you kidding me? Look," Neal drags a hand over his stubble, "August and Tamara had some sort of falling out before we met. She had a lead on a story and he got a jump on it, stole the feature from right under her. It was a different angle, but it didn't matter because his paper published first. Anyway, we run across him in Vancouver and he confronts me about what happened with you in Boston, accuses T of being some sort of an impostor, worming her way into stories and tells me I'm better off without her. I had nobody, Emma. What was I supposed to do?"
"You listen." Emma says coldly, "You listen to those who love you, who you've known since birth and you trust them and consider your options before blindly shutting us out."
Guilt floods his face instantly and Emma laughs spitefully, shaking her head, "Last time you hurt me, Neal. This time- you could hurt a lot of people in this town. God, you just never learn, do you?"
-/-
It ends up being an unexpectedly busy day, thanks to a catering order from a nearby township that Emma promises to fill for Sunday. That, on top of her pie making duties, keeps her busy until well into the evening shift, at which point she decides she might as well stay and finish the books before helping close up.
She's just helping Ashley stack the chairs when Killian slips in. His expression is smooth, the same air of self-assuredness and swagger that makes Emma's stomach flip, no matter how many times she's seen him wear it.
But there's an added gleam to his eye that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in anticipation, heat beginning to curl at the apex of her legs at the thought of promised activities that will have other things curling between her thighs soon enough.
"Um, Ashley, why don't you and Jaq take off. Killian and I can finish things here." Emma offers, trying not to appear too affected by Killian's hot gaze on her.
"Sure. Thanks, Emma!" Ashley says happily, handing over the broom and dustpan before untying her apron and exiting to the kitchen to relay the good news to the chef. Emma also undos her apron, setting it on the seat closest to her while Killian drapes his coat over the back of it.
"Allow me, love." He grasps the broom and dustpan confidently in his hands and resumes sweeping while Emma ties off the trash for Ashley to take on her way out.
After checking to make sure everything is cleaned up in the kitchen, Emma walks out to the front again, only to be cornered by Killian, who's just finished checking the locks at the front.
"Now that we're alone…"
Emma nearly gasps at his tone, dark and sultry, heavy with unchecked desire and she swallows against her racing heartbeat. She lets Killian back her up into the hallway, his head ducked down to skim his nose down her neck, simply breathing her in as his arms circle possessively around her. Emma moans as his lips make the briefest contact with her skin and Killian chuckles darkly.
This is really happening.
"You… you got cleared?"
"For all intents and purposes."
"Oh God. Finally." Emma barely finishes speaking before Killian wraps her ponytail loosely around his hand to tilt her head back so his lips can claim hers.
Everything is kind of a haze after that; demanding kisses, legs hitched up over waists, hands sliding up thighs and under red skirts to- quite literally- rip her panties off. Until suddenly, Emma finds her hands tracing the waistband of Killian's jeans and she knows exactly what she wants.
It's easy to distract him, a few strategic tugs of his hair, some light nibbling of his earlobe and Emma is able to maneuver them so he's the one pressed up against the wall, and from there, it's a quick drop to her knees, likely leaving Killian feeling suddenly bereft until Emma pulls him out of his pants, giving him a few quick strokes.
"Bloody- buggering fuck." He curses, and Emma smiles around his cock in her mouth, bracing herself when his hips jerk uncontrollably forward, seeking the wet warmth after nearly a month and a half of no action. She works her lips over his length, moaning when his hands slide into her hair again and then suddenly he's pulling back after a particularly forceful thrust that makes her gag a little.
"Gods, love I'm so sorry- Emma, wait," He pleads when Emma leans back in to tease the underside of his length.
"It's been too long, I can't-," Killian squeezes his eyes shut when Emma looks up at him from under her lashes, mouth still teasing over his tip and she heeds him, but only because her core is throbbing and she can't wait to feel him inside her again.
The second she's back up to full height again, Killian's hands dive under her skirt, cupping her bare ass and hauling her up against him, kissing her with abandon. She cries out when his fingers meet her dripping center, fisting her hands further into his shirt until she's sure she's going to tear the fabric.
Desperate to regain some semblance of control again, she takes her opportunity when his mouth travels down her throat to her chest to murmur in his ear.
"How do you want me, Lieutenant?"
Killian snarls, grabbing her ass again more forcefully before pushing her skirt higher up her waist, his nose simultaneously nudging aside her blouse (when did he find the time to unbutton that?) and her bra to suckle a nipple between his lips harshly before pulling back with a wet smack.
Emma lets out another gasp when he abruptly spins her around, pinning her front to the wall (but not without reaching up with his good hand to make sure he cushions her head in case it hits the wall with his sudden movement). A deft knee nudges her legs apart and he sucks a mark into the back of her neck that will likely require Emma to wear her hair down for a few days.
"Alright, love?" He checks, voice tender in contrast to his rougher actions.
"Yes," Emma says, her own tone breathless with lust. Killian shuffles a bit behind her, his bad arm still wrapped around her waist, keeping her arched into him while she braces herself with her hands on the walls, his mouth expelling hot air into the sensitive skin at her neck and she thinks (not for the first time) that Killian is really too good at this.
Not that she's complaining.
Finally, his other hand returns to her as well as the rest of his attentions and Emma doesn't know what to focus on: his hand cupping and fondling her breasts or his mouth working over his favorite spot just behind her ear as his bad hand nudges her skirt out of the way, allowing him to slide through her slick folds.
"Oh," The sound is half-gasp, half-moan at the first feel of him, hot and heavy right where she needs him most.
Killian curses again, "Just a second, love, we need-,"
"No." Emma's hand instinctively shoots out, grabbing his hand, "We don't. I'm sure, please, just-,"
Her tone must have sounded so desperate that Killian doesn't need to be told twice, sliding home without another word and it's probably bad that neither of them bother to hide their cries of relief and pleasure but Storybrooke isn't known to be particularly crowded on Main Street after 10pm.
It's almost an embarrassingly quick race to the edge, but given how long they've waited, it seems pretty on par with what's to be expected for their first time after their dry spell. Cleaning up is quick as well, Killian tucking himself back into his pants before going in search of tissues to clean Emma up, but not before shoving her ruined panties into his back pocket with a bit of an arrogant smirk.
Thirty minutes later, they're home and he's got her spread on their bed, head under her skirt, with a self-proclaimed "thing for her in red" and Emma responds by riding them both into oblivion with his hands clasped in hers above his head.
Killian later admits that the doctors warned him to take it slow for the first week but he does so at the strategically right moment that Emma is just about to succumb to sleep and she isn't able to respond before she gets pulled under.