She wishes he didn't look so nervous, his eyes darting around the cabin, looking anywhere but directly at her.
She wants to pull him straight to the bed and crawl into the warmth of his body, let the fatigue of the day overcome them both while lying in each other's arms, but he's shifting around, scratching behind his ear in a movement so reminiscent that it makes her smile.
In an attempt to sooth him, she stops midway across the room and faces him, grabbing his arm and going up on her toes to place a small kiss on his cheek. The action has him flinching and for a moment her temper flairs, then she realizes it's not the kiss that has him distressed, it's the position of her hand on his arm, reminding her of the cut he'd received the night before.
"You're hurt."
"It's nothing, love."
"It's not nothing," she replies, gripping the lapels of his coat. "Take this off and let me have a look."
"You don't have to do that. It'll be fine healing on its own."
"I know I don't have to. I want to. Now, take off the coat."
He seems suddenly amused with her, the corner of his mouth turning up, "Trying to get me out of my clothes, princess?"
Her cheeks stain scarlet at his flirty banter, but she's so happy at his change in mood that she grins back at him, "Are you going to pretend I'm the first woman who has tried?"
His eyes widen so comically at her retort that she laughs outright, adding, "Don't worry, Captain. Your virtue is safe with me. At least for tonight. I think we're both a little too tired for such strenuous activities, wouldn't you agree? Now, give it over."
Pride surges through her because she has apparently rendered him speechless and she takes matters into her own hands, moving around him so she can help him pull the garment off. She's happy when he cooperates, letting the heavy leather slip from his arms and into hers.
"This thing weighs a ton," she says in surprise.
Apparently, he finally finds his voice, turning to give her an amused look. "If you think it's heavy now, you should feel it when it's wet."
She chuckles at that and examines the jacket, poking her finger through the hole on the left arm where the blade had cut him. "It's hard to mend leather," she comments. "What will you do?"
"I don't know," he responds, "It's never been ripped before. I suppose I could try to track down the lass who made it for me. Perhaps she can fix it. Or make me another."
"Hmmmm," Emma replies thoughtfully, "Who is this lass?"
She can feel her eyes narrow, the jealousy coming from nowhere. And it only gets worse when she sees the flush staining his cheeks.
"She's a uhmmm…" he clears his throat, "a young woman in Cobbler's Landing."
"And just what would this young woman expect as payment?"
He turns absolutely scarlet at the question.
"Don't answer that," she says quickly. "I'm not sure I want to know."
When she turns away to take the coat over and hang it up on one of the hooks mounted on the wall, his voice calls out behind her. "Maybe the tear adds a bit of character. Perhaps I won't get it fixed."
And just like that the jealousy is gone. "Perhaps it does," she replies with an internal smile, hanging the coat carefully and smoothing it out with a few brushes of her hand.
When she turns back around, he looks relieved, like he'd just maneuvered through a very dangerous storm.
She moves back to him and reaches for his hand, lacing their finger together. "Hold still," she says, but doesn't get a chance to lift her other hand before he catches it with his hook.
"You don't need to tire yourself out on my account, love."
"I want to do this, Killian. There's no need for you to be in pain. Besides, if I pass out, you're right here to catch me."
She means the last part as a jest but his eyes darken and he steps forward, releasing her wrist to wrap his arm around her waist as though preparing to do just that.
She smiles to herself. "Hold still," she tells him again, lifting her hand just above the injury and embracing the spark of magic. The cut heals in less than two heartbeats, not even leaving a scar to mar his skin. Before he has time to move, she shifts her hand to the gash on his forehead, healing it as well.
"Thank you, darling," he says as soon as the magic fades, immediately searching her features, looking for any sign of fatigue.
But she doesn't feel weak in the least, in fact, she feels emboldened. To prove it, she wraps her hand around the back of his neck and goes up on tiptoe until their faces are level. His eyes darken on a sharp inhale when she stops just in front of his mouth. Tilting her head, she lets her lips hover in front of his, her eyes focused on the way his part in anticipation. Without kissing him, she changes the angle, rubbing their noses together, all the while watching the short breaths he takes. Then she lifts her eyes and squeezes his neck, prompting him to look at her.
"You can pay me later," she says in a low voice, dropping her heels to the ground.
It takes him a moment to react to her words, his head dipping with hers to keep their lips close. Another swell of pride surges through her that he seems too mesmerized to even process the quip but then he blinks and a slow smile spreads across his features.
"I am in your debt, milady," he replies with a flirty wink, his eyes twinkling.
"And I will be calling in that debt, Captain."
He chuckles but still doesn't release her, his eyes inspecting her again. "No weakness?" he asks.
"No weakness," she confirms.
She almost wishes she had lied when his arm immediately loosens on her waist but he doesn't step back like she expects him to, he simply stands straighter. "Have you wondered why that is? It seems your magic isn't wearing you out like before."
Yes, she has wondered. And she's got an opinion on the matter. But, honestly, she's not sure if he's ready to hear it yet, so she just shrugs. Then, in an attempt to distract him from that line of questioning, asks, "Shall we turn in?"
"Turn in?"
"Yes, go to bed," she clarifies, nodding toward his bed.
When his eyes widen in understanding, she cuts him off before he can say anything. "I don't want to let you out of my sight either."
He looks like he's having trouble breathing and she can certainly relate, her own chest tight while she waits for his reply. His Adam's apple bobs when he glances over to the bed, looking for all the world like a man who'd just been ordered to walk the plank. He stares at it for a good while, and she tries to be patient but trepidation fills her that he'll refuse, so she takes drastic action. The muscle in his neck is right in front of her eyes, and she licks her lips as she lifts to the balls of her feet, intent on discovering how it will feel under her tongue. But it's in that exact moment when he turns back to her and her lips end up hitting his chin instead.
She freezes on the spot, her eyes widening in amusement and a nervous chuckle escaping her. His eyes soften at her mirth, a quick flash of teeth when he grins. She starts to pull away but his hand comes up and catches the back of her neck.
"Shall we try that again, love?" he asks playfully.
Before she has time to answer, his hand is threaded in her hair, guiding her head so that when his lips descend, they collide with hers with perfect accuracy. She hears her own surprised gasp, her hands grappling for something to hold onto so she can help keep their lips together. They land on his shoulders and she grips fiercely for a moment before running her hands down his arms.
His brow furrows at the sound of a click as they break apart, but they clear with understanding a moment later as she waves the hook in front of him.
"You don't sleep in this, do you?" she asks.
Her teasing tone has him grinning. "No, I don't. Why don't you put it on the ledge and wait for me while I change into something more suitable for sleep?"
"Okay," she agrees.
After one more quick kiss, she watches him walk away until he disappears behind the wardrobe door. Suddenly breathless, she listens as he ruffles around in the cabinet. When he pops his head out from behind the door to catch her staring, she snaps her gaze away.
"I should probably wash a bit, too," he comments, the words making her eyes fly back to him.
He steps to the water basin and her heart pounds in her ears. Is he going to undress in front of her? She's dreamed of seeing that chest bare of clothing for nearly as long as she known him and the possibility that she's finally about to see it makes it difficult to breathe.
But he doesn't. He turns to face her once he's standing at the basin, hesitance in his posture. She turns away again at his unspoken request, crossing to the bed on suddenly shaky knees.
Trying to distract herself, she examines the hook still in her hand, her eyes landing on the key engraved in the base. She nearly chuckles at his cleverness. What a perfect place to hide a key, she marvels to herself, wondering what lock it fits. It doesn't take her long to figure it out, her eyes flying to the chest sitting next to the bed, the one she's puzzled over nearly every night since she's been on board.
Her hand reflexively lifts to her necklace, her finger tracing the curves of her swan pendant. He said he'd kept it in that chest, and she desperately wants to know what else might be in there.
She briefly wonders if he'd open it if she asked but immediately dismisses the idea. If he refused, this wonderful night would be marred and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want to give him any excuse to leave or retreat back into whatever thoughts had been plaguing him all day.
Resolutely laying the hook next to the chest, she begins straightening the blankets and fluffing the pillows, all the while listening to the splash of water, the creak of the wardrobe door, the clunk of his sword being propped against the wall. She's tempted to sneak a peek but she resists, leaving her back to him until she hears his footsteps approaching.
When she turns, he's walking slowly toward her, taking careful steps like he thinks she might order him from the room at any moment. He's changed into soft black pants and a white shirt that accentuates the dark hair on his chest, the open collar affording her a breathtaking view of it. His brace is still peeking out from the open end of his sleeve and she wonders briefly why he's left it on. She doesn't take time to dwell on it, though, because the rest of him is so stunning that she can barely breathe. His hair is damp and pushed back off his forehead in a perfect sweep, his eyes locked on hers and so blue it reminds her of a spring afternoon sky. It's not until he's standing in front of her that she notices how shaky his breathing is, everything about his posture tense and hesitant.
Somehow that makes her calmer and she steps into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her head under his chin. His arms encircle her and she feels the smallest kiss being placed to the top of her head. It makes her sigh and sway in his arms, his hand settling in the middle of her back and squeezing her closer as rests his chin on top of her head.
The soothing feeling of being in his arms causes the fatigue of the day return with full force, making her body heavy and weak. Taking his hand, she turns to the bed and climbs in, pulling him down with her.
He's careful when he lays down, intentionally settling himself in while leaving as much a gap as possible between their bodies. But Emma is through with distance, so she lifts his left arm and slides into his side, planting her head on his chest.
His heart is pounding under her ear, beating fast and hard, and she patiently waits for it to slow down. After a few minutes, it appears it's not going to so she reaches across his stomach and takes his tightly fisted hand in hers. The fingers loosen at her prompting and she twines hers with them, settling their joined hands on his chest and leaning forward to press a light kiss to his thumb.
He lets out a long sigh and relaxes the slightest bit. "Sleep, darling," he murmurs, "It's been a long couple of days."
The rumbling of his voice under her ear is a balm to her weary body and she closes her eyes, happy to hear his heartrate finally start to slow to a rhythmic beat. The spicy scent of him lingers in the air around her and her limbs sink into him and the mattress, his breath blowing lightly through the hair on top of her head. She's hard pressed to think of a time when she felt more comfortable, and she drifts into that lovely place between sleep and wake. She has nearly drifted off completely when his body shifts and she jolts to attention, gripping at him in fear that he's going to leave her.
"It's alright, love. I'm not going anywhere," he slurs in a sleep-drugged voice, his body now facing hers and his arm draped across her waist.
Sighing with relief, she immediately relaxes again, exhaustion already dragging her back under when he adds on a breath, "At least not until you order me to."
Her eyes pop open to see his face mere inches from hers, completely relaxed in sleep. She's tempted to shake him awake, to make him explain that statement, to tell him how wrong he is but, at the same time, her throat clogs, her heart breaking at the thought that he's still expecting her to.
She struggles with it for a moment, the anger and the sadness caused by his sleep-induced confession churning in her stomach. In the end, she simply snuggles closer, gripping him tight and pressing a kiss to his chin. "Then you'll always be with me," she forces out past the lump in her throat.
Killian awakens to the smell of lilacs and the feel of hair tickling his nose. He'd swear this is a dream but the weight on his shoulder is too heavy to be anything but real.
He tries to shift but she's got him pinned to the mattress, lying on her stomach with her head planted in the crease of his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest and her leg tossed across both of his. Her fingers are laced into the hair behind his ear and when she mumbles at the jostling, her thumb caresses along his cheek.
Only his right arm is free and he reaches up to rub his hand over his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes. His left arm is tingling from loss of blood flow but when he tries to extricate himself, her hand grips in his hair almost to the point of pain. Giving in to defeat, he nudges her head down further on his chest, at least enough to get the feeling back in his arm and grits he teeth at the pins and needles until the limb is functional again.
His lips quirk into a smile, the snarl of blond curls just beneath his chin possibly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. She certainly is a stubborn one. Even in sleep she won't let him go, her tenacity a trait he loves and hates about her. He'd woken during the night a couple of times to find her in a similar position as she's in now. She'd even whispered his name once, her sleepy murmur like a caress to his soul. Add to that the way she'd groped for him in slumber, her fingers gripping his side to keep him from going far, tells him just how determined she is.
He's fighting a losing battle and he knows it and, honestly, with the how perfect she feels pressed up against him, he's happy to give into defeat. How one night of decent sleep can change a person's perspective, he doesn't know, but this is one time he's not going to question it.
Dipping his chin, he kisses the back of her head, inexplicably amused when she retaliates from the small movement by once again digging her nails into his scalp. He's suddenly very anxious for her to wake so that they can end this sleep-generated battle.
Softly, he starts smoothing out her hair, blindly running his fingers over her forehead and down her temple, pulling the massive length back and splaying it over his left arm. It's like the finest silk in his fingers, the tendrils easily unraveling and releasing the most incredible aroma into the air. It's springtime and beauty, the sweet fragrance a heady combination that makes him close his eyes and breathe deep.
Once the tangles have been completely worked out and she still hasn't awoken, he switches to running his fingers along the column of her neck. She wriggles when he places a light caress behind her ear and he makes a mental note that there's a particularly sensitive expanse of skin there that he'll examine more thoroughly at a later time.
The idea makes him long to see her face, to continue to gauge her reaction to his touch while in the unguarded moments of sleep. So he gently nudges at her chin, now being careful not to wake her. Disappointment rolls through him for an instant when it doesn't work, her eyes blinking open the moment he can see them.
"Good morning, love," he murmurs.
She's obviously not fully awake yet, her eyes sliding shut again on a low grumble. Her body stretches out, languidly rubbing into his side and her knee bending until it runs over his mid-section, making him hold back a moan. Her nose finds its way into the crook of his neck, running almost all the way up to tease his earlobe and his eyes flutter shut at how wonderful it feels, her sleepy movements both adorable and arousing. The placement of her knee over his groin is driving him to distraction, especially when she shifts closer and locks her heel around his outside leg, but he resolutely clenches both his jaw and his hand, doing his best to keep control over his body, telling himself over and over again that she's half-asleep and surely isn't intending to arouse him like this.
It doesn't help much.
He realizes she's fully awake when she pulls her nose out of his neck and lays a kiss on his cheek, the words 'Good morning,' more a rumble in her chest than actual words. It's like a dream, hearing her sleep-roughened voice so close to his ear, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts pushed into his side. He wants to hold onto it, so he tightens his arms and twists his head enough to kiss her hair. She hums louder at that, gliding her hand from his neck and down to his chest under the loose shirt. And, damnation, there's no way he'll be able to control his body if she continues like this.
But she doesn't continue. Once her hand makes it to just over his heart, she uses the leverage to lean up far enough to look at him, her eyes searching his for a long moment. He studies her as well, marveling at how perfectly a tendril of hair slips off her shoulder to land on his collarbone.
Then, without a word, she leans in and places a timid kiss to his lips. She doesn't close her eyes when she does it, like she's trying to gauge his reaction, and he smiles in response.
Her face immediately breaks into a happy grin, leaning in slowly for another light kiss, then another. They're sweet, innocent kisses but his body doesn't seem to understand the difference and it reacts all on its own. His hand moves to her chin the next time she leans in and pulls it down to open her mouth so that when it lands on his he can tease her bottom lip with his tongue. His arm at her back gently nudges her until her body moves to completely over him, her legs straddling his thighs. His chest arches up to feel those lovely breasts pressing into it even as his hand moves to the middle of her back to increase the contact.
Her quick gasp gets his attention and he stills, opening his eyes to find her face hovering over his with an awed expression, her eyes closed and her lip caught between her teeth. It sends a tide of warmth through his blood and he holds the position until her eyes open. The tender and delighted smile he receives has him relaxing his grip on her back, joy filling him as he settles into the mattress so he can simply grin back.
She goes back to her soft kisses, smiling between each one, her fingers now tracing along his neck and chin. Her obvious happiness has him following her lead, a beautiful sense of rightness filling his heart as she leisurely explores his lips with hers and the lines of his face with her fingers. Her eyes drift closed every time their lips meet but open in between every brush, each time landing on some new spot that her fingers are exploring. Her thumb traces one of his eyebrows; her index finger glides down his cheek. Every touch feels like a brand, a claiming, and he knows he'll never allow any other woman this liberty again regardless of what his future holds.
Her fingers find their way into his hair, delving her hand all the way under his head until it's caught between it and the pillow. Her nails dig at his scalp to angle his head and he complies instantly, her kisses turning hungrier. The first one that has her tongue sliding past his lips, makes him moan. The second, she goes even deeper, her free hand moving to grip at his hip and his hand fists in her nightdress. It's the third, though, that his body can't ignore, the way she locks their lips together, the way her tongue rubs languidly against his and the way she nips his bottom lip before diving back in.
He knows she feels his reaction, it's too obvious for her not to, but what he doesn't expect is her surprised gasp. Her eyes pop open wide, her mouth forming a startled 'O' that makes him think she wasn't aware that what she was doing would affect him this way. It confuses him for an instant because why on earth would she not know?
Unless…
Bloody hell…
Unless she hasn't…?
A sharp rapping at the hatch has both of them swinging their heads in that direction.
"Hook! Are you down there? Hook, there's a whale off the port bow! Can we chase it?"
Grace's voice is so filled with excitement that Emma huffs out a laugh before turning back to him. "Sounds like you have somewhere else to be, Captain," she teases.
He can only nod in response, his throat too tight to speak while the question continues to pound in his brain. In fact, he's so distracted by it that he doesn't even respond when she presses one last chaste kiss to his lips before rolling off of him and hopping to her feet.
He can't take his eyes off her as she shakes out her hair and walks over to the chest where she has apparently been keeping her clothes. He watches as she leans over it, her nightdress riding up to where it hits high on the back of her thighs, and he swallows hard.
Could it be possible? That even after all these years, she's still innocent?
When the next rap hits the hatch, it jolts him to a sitting position, shaking his head to clear it.
"Hook? Are you awake?" Grace calls.
Emma quirks an eyebrow as she turns to face him, now holding some clothes in her arms. When she sees his certainly wrecked expression, hers eyes darken and she tilts her head, a pride-filled smile spreading across her face. The way she looking at him tells him she doesn't know what he's thinking and relief floods him. She's got that look in her eye women get when they know they've got a man under their spell, that confident knowing look that challenges a man's resolve.
Without looking away from him, she calls out to Grace, "He'll be up in a moment, Grace. Don't worry, that whale won't get away."
Somehow, her words get his muscles to start obeying his commands again and he climbs out of the bed. Clearing his throat, he looks over to the hatch, adding, "You just keep an eye on her, darling. We'll give her a run for her money."
Emma takes her time getting dressed, listening to Killian and Grace on deck. The mixture of his deep laughter and her light giggles are like a sweet song and she closes her eyes for a moment, imagining this as their life… Or at least what their life should have been. Him, captaining a ship, perhaps with her and their children aboard as they sail off to visit some foreign dignitary. It's a beautiful daydream, a beautiful fantasy, to picture him with a raven-haired little girl on his hip while he stands behind the wheel, teaching her the ways of the sea.
She gets lost in her dream for a while, nothing but laughter and love surrounding them, sitting on the steps and reading to their children, showing them the constellations at night then sending them to bed and curling up together, holding each other until dawn.
If it hadn't been for Regina, that's what they'd be right now, blissfully happy together with no doubt or reservations. He wouldn't worry about her leaving him, not ever. He wouldn't hold back his thoughts or his affection. He'd be her prince, her husband, her lover.
So much had been stolen from them. So much pain had been endured. But now, on this ship, they have a chance to seize those moments. It may not be the way she'd always pictured it, but she's determined to have it nonetheless.
The sound of more footsteps on deck tells her that the rest of the ship has awoken, so she decides to head to the galley to help Ruby with breakfast. When she enters the room, she finds Patricia there, too, also helping out. As promised to Grace, honey cakes are on the menu this morning and Emma offers to knead and roll the dough while Patricia mixes and Ruby shapes the pastries.
They are working on the second of three batches when she feels Ruby nudge at her hip.
"So, the Captain is finally sleeping in his cabin again," she says with a meaningful smile.
Emma's cheeks flame when she turns to her friend. "You're not going to give me a lecture, are you?"
Ruby laughs heartily, "Are you joking? Do I look like Leroy or Granny? Or even Sleepy? Honestly, I think it's about damn time."
Emma smiles in relief, turning back to counter to continue her kneading.
"So?" Ruby asks after a moment.
"So what?"
Ruby rolls her eyes, "So… did you?"
"Ruby!"
"She didn't," Patricia puts in, drawing both of their attention to her where she's standing at the table behind them, mixing the last batch of dough.
"How do you know?" Ruby asks.
"I just saw Hook on deck. The man looks positively strained, definitely not the look of a man who has recently… you know."
Emma doesn't even have time to respond to that before Ruby whirls on her. "Well, why not?" she demands.
Ruby looks so indignant that it makes Emma laugh. "Really? After a day like that? We were both pretty tired and, honestly, it took quite a bit of convincing just to get him to agree to stay."
"So nothing happened?" Ruby asks in disbelief.
And the blush is back. "Well, not nothing. This morning we – I mean, I – I kissed him when I woke up. And, he… well, he kissed me back and…" she trails off, too embarrassed to continue.
"And?" Ruby coaxes.
She considers telling her for a moment, the way his cock had hardened against her thigh, how good it felt pressing up against it. But Patricia is listening and, while she seems nice enough, Emma doesn't know her very well and sharing the story of the most intimate thing she's ever done is a little too personal for a first meeting. So she just inhales a deep breath and replies, "And then we got interrupted. Grace wanted to chase a whale."
"Sorry about that," Patricia puts in, "My little girl has always been an early riser. She snuck out while Jeff and I were still sleeping."
"Oh, it's okay," Emma says quickly. "I wasn't complaining. Grace is a sweet child. And she was just excited to be on the ship. I understand. I remember my first voyage. I wanted to stay on deck the whole time. I even tried to talk my parents into letting me sleep there."
Patricia smiles at that. "Still, I'll have a talk with her about not waking the two of you again. I'd say you're entitled to some privacy after everything you've been through…" she hesitates for a moment, then continues, "Look, I know it's none of my business, but I've known Hook – Killian – for a long time now and I've never seen him look so… alive. There was always this part of him that was… defeated. But now… Well, I'll just say I'm happy you found each other again."
"I'm glad we did, too," Emma replies, which earns her a nod from the woman.
"Here," Patricia says, handing over the last batch, "this one is ready. I should go check on Grace, make sure she's not getting into trouble."
After Patricia walks out, Ruby and Emma get back to work, silently rolling the dough and shaping it for baking. It's a mindless task, and one they've performed together many times, so they fall into a well-rehearsed rhythm. Ruby keeps sending her sidelong glances and Emma knows she's itching to know more about what happened this morning. But Emma keeps working, not sure how to start the subject again, even though she's dying to talk about it.
Once the last batch is in the oven, Ruby turns to her while they both wipe the lingering flour off their fingers.
"Emma," she says quietly, concentrating on cleaning her hands, "You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, I want you to know that if you have questions… You can ask me. Or if you just want to – "
"Does it really hurt the first time?" Emma blurts out before she can stop herself.
Ruby looks up from her hands and Emma blushes to the tips of her hair. She doesn't look away, though, keeping her gaze steady on her friend.
"It does," Ruby replies, "Or at least it did for me. But I think a lot of it has to do with the man. Peter and I were so young. Neither of us knew what we were doing." Ruby swallows hard and Emma feels instant remorse for asking. Peter had been Ruby's first and only love and she'd unintentionally killed him before she gained control over her wolf form.
"I'm sorry, Ruby. I shouldn't have…"
"No. It's okay," she interrupts, "It was a long time ago." She stops for a deep breath. "My point is that Killian… Well, he knows what he's doing… so I think yours will go much easier than mine did."
Emma reaches out and takes Ruby's hand, still feeling guilty over bringing the subject up.
Ruby pats the back of her hand in reassurance. "It's really okay, Emma," she says, "It was years ago. I'm just glad it was him. I'm glad it was with someone I loved. Like you and Killian. Whether or not either of you is ready to admit it, you love each other. And the two of you have waited a long time for this. I have no doubt it will be perfect for you. He'll make sure it is. You may not like the idea that he's… more experienced now, but trust me when I say, you're going to appreciate it when it finally happens."
"Maybe you're right. I just… I wish I knew more about it. He's this legendary pirate and I'm hopelessly naïve. I don't want to disappoint him."
"Emma, there's no way he'll be disappointed," Ruby says sardonically.
Emma isn't so sure but she lets that go. "So, how do I… How do I let him know I want to? He's been so… distant. Even last night, after everything that happened, I still had to practically drag him to his quarters. And then he looked like he was ready to bolt out of the room at any moment. And he said something in his sleep… But then this morning, when we were kissing, he… Well, he got…"
"Excited?" Ruby supplies.
"Yeah. And it sort of caught me off guard. I mean, we'd barely started kissing. I didn't think just kissing would make him… you know."
"Hard as a rock?" Ruby asks with a sly smile that brings the blush back to Emma's cheeks. "Look, it doesn't take a lot for men. And it's nothing to be afraid of – "
"I'm not afraid of it," Emma cuts her off, "I want to. Like you said, we've waited long enough. I just don't know how to let him know."
"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that," Ruby tells her with a laugh. "I've never known you to not get something when you wanted it badly enough. Just be the stubborn princess we all know and love and don't let him out of that room until you're finished with him."
Ruby adds a wink at the end that makes Emma feel much better.
It's a beautiful day. Perhaps the most beautiful of his life. And it's not only because of the bright sun overhead or the lovely breeze on deck. It's not only because of the gentle waves or the full sails or the way the Jolly cuts through the water with ease. It's also about the musical sound of a child's laughter ringing across the deck and the jovial mood of everyone on board. It's the freedom of being on the water, the tranquility that accompanies being among friends.
And it's Emma.
It's Emma and the way she's never far from his side. The way she sits next to him during breakfast, stands with him at the helm, rests her head on his shoulder when Grace begs to climb up to the crow's nest and the amused smile she gives him when he agrees.
It's the closest he's felt to being Lieutenant Killian Jones in a very long time.
Ruby, with help from Emma and Patricia, prepares a delicious feast for them for dinner. Killian and Jefferson set up a table on deck and they all gather around it at twilight to celebrate their victory from the day before, Grace's safety, Dopey's survival, their escape from the clutches of Regina's soldiers.
Emma sits next to him, of course, as they all take turns telling Grace stories about life before the Evil Queen's reign. Emma is nearing the end of a story about the time they'd gotten caught in the rain and had to wait out the storm in an abandoned cottage when Grace chimes in.
"And you thought you'd be in trouble when you returned to the castle, but no one said a word about it. The king and queen were just happy you were safe and thanked Hook for taking such good care of you. Then he walked you to your room, and you gave him his coat back, and he kissed you goodnight."
At Emma's shocked expression, Grace adds, "I've heard that one before. Hook told me. I just didn't know it was about you and him."
Emma turns to him with then with a stunning smile. "You told her stories about us?"
"I did," he admits without shame, his heart filled with happiness when she leans over right then and kisses him softly on the mouth.
Yes, it's a beautiful day. A perfect day. Too perfect to worry about tomorrow. Too perfect to ruin with sad tales and guilty confessions.
He knows they still need to talk, he needs to tell her about his life since the fall of the kingdom, but somehow that doesn't seem as urgent at the moment. He keeps telling himself it should. He should tell her everything before anything else happens between them. But, at the same time, the pirate side of him tells him to use this peace they've found to solidify her affection while he still has the chance. Maybe if he can show her how life could be for them, she'll be less likely to push him away after.
And then there's the question of her innocence, as well. It's been beating around in his head all day and, if what he suspects is true, he can't deny he yearns to be her first. It's consuming his thoughts, the chance that after everything that was taken from them, there is a possibility that this one thing can still be as it should have been. Only now, he won't be fumbling around like an overeager young lad. Now he'll be able to show her everything there is to know about the wonders of the dark. He can guide her through the secrets of ecstasy, teach her how to move, where to touch. He can bear witness to the first time she feels a woman's pleasure and be the man who gives it to her.
There's a small part of him that rails at the idea. They're not married. He still has so many things to tell her. But that damn pirate side keeps whispering in his ear, needling him, coaxing him to throw propriety aside and take what he wants while he can.
It's not the most noble idea, but his body isn't listening to his noble side at the moment. He's been walking around half-hard all day, tempted at every turn to take her in his arms and carry her to his cabin, to bury himself inside her and ravage every inch of her skin, to use every bit of sexual prowess he has to guide her through the wonders of passion… show her every blood rushing, sensual secret he knows… make her senses overload, make her body quiver, make her forget everything but him and the pleasure he can give her.
Make her his – in every sense of the word.
It's a struggle, to be sure. Trying to talk his body out of what it wants so desperately. Especially with the way she's been looking at him all day, the quirk in her brow that tells him she knows what he's thinking and wants him just as much.
It's still fairly early when they finish dinner, but the sun has disappeared and he's just about to seize that flimsy excuse to offer her his arm and suggest they turn in for the night. But then Dopey appears with a flute he must have found in the crews' quarters and, to everyone else's delight, starts playing a tune. Disappointment rolls through him but he tamps it down, resolving to stay on deck through at least one song. They've got all night after all, and patience is one thing he's always prided himself on.
Midway through the song, Jefferson takes Patricia's hand and leads her to the middle of the deck, he gives her a flourishing courtly bow that has her laughing and pulls her into his arms for a dance. It takes Patricia a moment to catch on, the elegant waltz not the type of dancing she's used to, but soon she's gliding along the deck with her husband, both of them smiling softly at the other.
Killian watches Emma out of the corner of his eye, her foot tapping along with the music. He's just about to ask her to dance when Grace appears at his left, begging a dance for herself.
Picking the little girl up, he spins her around on deck to the beat of Dopey's song, Emma's eyes following their every move. She's got a faraway look in her eyes, a gentle smile touching her lips that makes his heart swell.
When the song ends, Grace hugs him tight and thanks him. And before he knows it, the second song begins. Without hesitation, he crosses to Emma and sweeps his princess into his arms, their gazes locking and the years melting away...
She's smiling at him, she's in his arms, and suddenly, they're back in the ballroom on the night of their engagement party, twirling around the floor without a care in the world. The music surrounds them and they get lost in each other's eyes. He spins her out and pulls her back, her mischievous grin prompting him to go one step further and splay his hand on her spine, lowering her into a deep dip. He stops while she's leaned back and she giggles, the sound more beautiful than anything Dopey could ever play.
But when he slowly straightens her, her gaze falls to his chest and the mood shifts, the smile leaving her face and her eyes clouding.
He knows her well enough to know what she's thinking about, he's thinking about it, too. She's remembering the attack that followed, the ring of steal, the screams, her last glimpse of her parents, the balcony collapsing and their final goodbye.
He's not sure how much time passes, both of them frozen in the middle of the deck, still holding their waltz frame, chests heaving with deep breaths not caused by their current dance but by the agonizing memory of that fateful night.
When she lifts her head, tears are streaming down her cheeks, and it's only then he notices the music has stopped. He's just about to pull her into his arms – because this time he can – this time there's not an insurmountable gulf between them, but as he makes a move toward her, her eyes widen and her shoulders stiffen.
He stops in mid-movement, his brow wrinkling in confusion when she swallows hard. Her eyes darken with a sudden understanding that has his stomach plummeting and she jerks her hand from his shoulder, taking a step back.
"It was my fault we got separated," she says, her words laced with horror.
He's got no bloody idea what she's talking about, but whatever it is makes her face crumple, her hands going up to cover her mouth.
"Darling – " he starts, taking a step toward her.
"It was my magic. My magic caused the ground to shake. The balcony collapsed because of me."
Her voice is trembling, her lower lip quivering and she catches it between her teeth, looking up to him with eyes that beg forgiveness.
His heart splinters right in two at that look, the realization hitting him hard in the chest that she's now blaming herself for their fate. "You can't know that, love – "
"Yes, I can," she insists, "It was my magic, I'm sure of it. My mother was being drug from the room, my father was being attacked from behind and I was so angry. I didn't realize it then – I didn't realize it until just now – but that was the first time I used magic… And it separated us."
Her voice cracks and he tries to reach for her but she's too quick, taking a step back and pulling his hook up between them. "Your hand…"
Her words are thick with self-loathing and his heart breaks for her. "Don't, darling. It wasn't your fault."
"It was," she cries, the words garbled when she brings a wrist up to cover the sob that escapes.
She drops his hook and takes another step away, her shoulders hunched. He follows but she continues to retreat, shaking her head furiously and holding her hand up as if to ward him off.
"Listen to me, darling," he entreats, matching her step for step, lifting his own hand toward her in a calming gesture.
But she doesn't hear him, she's mumbling under her breath, something he can't quite make out, her eyes set on the planks at her feet while she continues to retreat. Her breath is stilted and strained against the tears and he swears he can feel her agony in his own chest, the sinking feeling in his gut making him desperate to hold her, but she's still got her hand up in a request for distance, so he just continues to match her steps, unwilling to let her get too far.
He sees the rail behind her and prepares for the moment it will hinder her retreat. When it does, he takes immediate advantage, hauling her into his arms. She struggles against him for a moment, landing one good pound on his arm, but then the sobs overcome her, a nearly inhuman sound of anguish escaping her lips.
He pulls her into his chest as her body collapses in on itself, her temple landing on his shoulder. It's then that he catches what she's mumbling – my fault, my fault – and his heart cracks, curling himself around her and keeping her from falling when her knees buckle.
"It wasn't," he vows, enunciating each word, "It wasn't your fault. It was Regina's. It was the Evil Queen and her thirst for power and vengeance."
Her weeping cries are still drowning out his voice, so he sinks to the deck and settles her in his lap, his hand tangling in her hair to push it out of her face, trying to wait until the sobs subside so that she'll hear him. But he can't take it, he can't stand to see her like this and he fists his hand in her hair, trying to lift her head.
When it doesn't work, he switches tactics, cupping her chin in his hand. "Emma, love. Look at me," he implores, his voice close to a croak as emotion strangles him. But she still doesn't move.
"Emma," he repeats, a little louder this time, "Look at me, please, darling."
Perhaps it's his pleading tone or perhaps it's that she realizes he'd called her by her name, but she finally lifts her head.
"If what you're saying is true, then you saved your father's life that day. I saw the man coming for him. He would have been dead a moment later if it hadn't been for you," he tells her, wiping at her tears with his thumb.
She shakes her head. "But that was the moment I lost everything. When that balcony collapsed. I've wondered about it thousands of times and I never understood what happened. But it was me. It was my magic, not Regina's."
Her eyes glaze over again and his breath freezes in his lungs. "I was cut off from you. There was nothing I could do when I saw that sword aiming for your wrist. I couldn't get to you. I couldn't even comfort you."
Her hand raises to his cheek and she swipes her thumb across it as though she's offering him the comfort now that she couldn't give him then. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't. Don't say you're sorry. It wasn't your fault. Regina took everything from us… No, don't look away, darling. Listen to what I'm saying. She took everything. But she didn't take our lives. Against all odds, we survived. We found each other again. We're here now. We're together. And soon, you'll see your parents again. We'll help your father save your mother and we'll defeat Regina for good."
He searches her eyes while he speaks, praying that she'll believe him, praying that she'll stop blaming herself for something that was out of her control. She draws several long breaths, her gaze never leaving his and finally she nods, making his body slump with relief. His head falls forward until it rests against hers and he wipes the tears from her cheeks, a lump forming in the back of his throat as they cling to each other, offering each other the comfort they were denied so long ago.
It goes on for a while, both of them wiping at each other's tears, their breaths returning to normal. He sees the guilt leave her jade eyes and he sighs in relief, her body relaxing as she brings her hand up to run the backs of her fingers along his cheek.
"Promise you'll never leave me," she requests quietly.
He meets her gaze head-on, making sure she can see the truth in his words. "I'll never leave you, Emma. I promise. I'll stay by your side as long as you wish it."
She nods and sniffles, and then they're both moving, sealing the vow with a long kiss. He can taste the salt from her tears and he pulls her closer, angling his head to deepen it. She moves easily with him, in no more of a rush than him to let this moment end. He savors it, the feel of their mouths working together in perfect synchronization, like they're reading each other's minds.
When they finally separate, the world comes back into focus around them and he's suddenly aware of the fact that everyone is watching, but he can't bring himself to care. He's with his princess. They beat the odds and here they are. She's looking at him with love swimming in her eyes and his breath catches, her soft smile making his heart soar.
"Killian?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Say it again?"
He smiles.
"Emma."
A/N: I want to thank everyone again for their support. You guys are INCREDIBLE.
I'm also wanted to let you know that the next chapter will take longer than usual. I'm leaving for vacation in a few days and I won't be back until mid-July, so don't expect an update for a while. I don't know if I'll have any time to work on it during my trip, but I'll get something out as soon as I can. Believe me when I say, I'm just as anxious as you for every chapter, but work and kids and vacation are demanding a lot of my time recently, so I can't make any promises on when the next chapter will be out.
Until then, I live off your reviews and comments! You guys truly brighten my days!
Lots of love to you all! xoxox