She didn't get off the floor.
To be fair, it probably would have been difficult to get off the floor. There were papers and bags and what, at first glance, looked like several dozen chocolate chip cookies and Killian didn't blame for her staying where she was.
Emma shook her head. "Double chocolate chip," she said, and Killian's knees were having a very difficult time staying straight.
He grinned.
"You looked like you were trying to figure it out," Emma shrugged. "Made sense to cut out the banter'y middle-man. As it were."
"Do you not want to banter about desserts, Swan?"
"Not really."
"Who made them?"
"Mary Margaret," David answered. He stood up, rolling his eyes when Emma opened her mouth to make sure he followed the path Killian was certain she'd designed in order to get out of her office. An office David probably shouldn't have been in.
Technically.
"Did you take the whole day off or…" Killian started, closing his mouth when David glared at him and he might have deserved that. Technically.
He wanted David to leave, like, five minutes ago.
"Just a few hours," David muttered. "I wasn't counting on your presser only lasting five minutes. That was way more efficient than any of us thought it'd be."
"Us?"
"Don't act like you're not almost painfully aware of our quest."
"They didn't call it a quest."
"That's what we decided on."
"When were you naming it?" Killian asked, leaning against the doorframe and Emma had opened the bag of cookies. He shook his head when she offered him one. David needed to leave ten minutes ago.
"Prepare to feel like complete and utter shit," David warned, but Killian barely had a moment to shrug before he kept talking and the warning was kind of unnecessary. "While we were sitting in the ER waiting room and Regina was yelling very loudly at front office and several children of varying ages were in varying degrees of distress."
"Huh."
"That's it?"
"What would you like me to say, David?" David sighed, a put-upon sound that was probably fair considering the number of take-out bags on the floor. "Did you go to the Shake Shack on 42nd? That must have been crazy at lunch."
David groaned, head thrown back in frustration and, maybe, acceptance, and Killian glanced at Emma in confusion. She almost smiled, a flash of something on her face that made his pulse sputter in his veins and this team had no concept of boundaries at all.
It wasn't really a team.
Technically.
But family sounded kind of melodramatic out loud and he could only begin to imagine what the headlines for his mini-tirade in front of the cameras would be.
Probably something with family in it.
"Why don't either of you know where the Shake Shacks in this city are?" David shouted, and Killian got the distinct impression that wasn't really the question he wanted to be asking.
"Apparently there's a Shake Shack on Broadway," Emma muttered, resting her forearms on her knees and her hair fell over both her shoulders.
Killian needed to move.
He needed to get out of this doorway and around the papers and the bags and he needed David to leave, like, fifteen minutes before, but he was glad David was there and-
"Mary Margaret couldn't leave school again," David said, answering a question no one had actually asked. Killian blinked. "You were doing something almost too obvious with your eyebrows. Like you were thinking too hard."
"That seems kind of judgmental, actually," Killian countered.
"That's kind of been his mo for the last few minutes," Emma said. She grabbed the cup next to her, making a frustrated noise when it was clear she'd run out of milkshake and Killian wasn't only worried about his knees.
He was fairly certain his entire body was shutting down systematically – one organ after another and he could almost feel the adrenaline leaving his system, like winning in OT and coming off the ice to find...something.
He'd never played in a metaphorical game like this one.
This wasn't a game.
God.
He was on a melodramatic roll.
"Trust me, Em, you got off easy on this one," David said, resting a hand on her shoulder and she mumbled a string of curses under her breath. It was difficult to understand while she was still trying to pick up the last few dregs of milkshake.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, you only got me. And baked goods from Mary Margaret. There was potential for Rubes if she wasn't so swamped and playing distraction with the Rookie."
"He's not a rookie anymore," Emma argued. "He's literally got some kind of memorial thing tomorrow for point totals."
"Is that the word you were looking for?"
"Absolutely not." Emma glanced at Killian when he couldn't quite keep his laugh in, and maybe the melodrama was making him a little crazy too because this was not the talking he was promised a few moments ago and he kind of just wanted to kiss her until she couldn't see straight.
Or something less aggressive.
"That's what I keep thinking of it as too," Killian said. "But memorial's got a distinctly macabre connotation to it, doesn't it? Like we're honoring his work or dedication to the cause."
"The fact you can even use the word macabre in conversation seems like a pretty good indicator that your brain is fine," Emma muttered, but her voice shook a little as the sentence went on and Killian walked further into the room. "You don't happen to know where Phillip's mom is, do you?"
"Is that something I should know?"
"It'd be weird if you did, but apparently Phillip doesn't know where she is or if she's coming to whatever we're calling tomorrow and Merida's probably patrolling the Canadian tundra looking for her right now."
"That'd be impressive since I saw her in the hallway a few seconds ago."
"Do you not think Merida knows how to teleport?"
Killian hummed, smirk settling on his face with practiced ease and he was certain Emma's hair got brighter or her eyes got greener or maybe he just fell in love with her a little more, right then, but those were all ridiculous things and David sounded particularly disgusted by each one.
"God, the blatant flirting has got to stop," David grumbled. "It's ridiculous. Also, I feel like I should tell you right now that I almost take offense at you suggesting your kids are better than anyone else's. You're totally biased. And lucky Locksley wasn't at your presser."
"He wasn't?" Emma asked sharply, and David was going to set a record for groans and grouses and some other verb that started with the letter 'g.'
"I told you, Em, you got easy on the quest. How many of them ended up showing? Ariel wasn't sure if she was going to be able to blow off Husinger."
Killian didn't really gasp, wasn't entirely surprised, but he was a little frustrated that he probably owed Ariel three life debts now and that just seemed kind of unfair.
"Ah," David breathed. "She didn't mention that part, did she?"
Killian shook his head. "Conveniently left out. And if you count the FaceTime, seven of them."
David let out a low whistle, squeezing Emma's shoulders slightly when her eyes widened and her head snapped between them quickly enough that Killian swore he heard it crack. "That seems kind of excessive, don't you think?" she asked, nearly yelling the question at him.
"I mean, yeah," David shrugged. "But we're all us and Arthur agreed to no walk-through in a surprisingly short amount of time. Or so Ruby said when she told him."
"Well, if Lucas told him, then Arthur was just doing his best to stay alive at that point," Killian said, David nodding a quiet agreement.
"I'm totally going to tell her you said that and then whatever absurdly romantic thing you just did at that presser is going to be null and void."
"I wasn't doing it for bonus points with Lucas."
"Ah, c'mon, that's even more ridiculous," David sighed. "You can't just say shit like that. I'm swooning over you."
"I always knew you liked me the best, Detective."
"Sergeant," Emma corrected lightly, but she was smiling and she'd finally put the goddamn milkshake down.
David made an impossible noise in the back of his throat, but she didn't say anything else and Killian needed to move . His legs wouldn't listen. He was frozen and a little stunned and ridiculously in love with his own wife.
He needed David to leave.
"Did you guys really not bet on anything though?" Emma asked, looking up at David like she was asking Matt how much ice cream he'd really eaten. "That seems decidedly out of character."
"We were in the emergency room, Em! We were worried about Killian's brain!"
"Can we stop phrasing it like that?" Killian mumbled. "It's really messing with my head honestly."
"Was that supposed to be a joke?"
"Absolutely not."
"It wouldn't have been funny anyway," Emma added, eyes back on the floor and fingers twisting around her laces and Killian wasn't really sure how his brain actually worked, but his legs were moving suddenly and finally and he didn't knock over a single stack of papers.
She clicked her tongue when he stepped into her space, barely any carpet between his sneakers and the bend in her knees, and it probably wasn't supposed to be the single most endearing thing in the world when she tugged lightly on the side of his jeans.
"Like some charging white knight sent to save my sanity," Emma said softly, and Killian shook his head before she'd even finished.
"The exact opposite, in fact."
"God damnit," David growled, backpedaling towards the door with Shake Shack bags in his hands. "Is this karma? Is that what it is?"
"That's suggesting that you know you and Reese's have been absolutely, disgustingly in love for the last twenty-thousand years," Emma pointed out.
"Ok, it has not been that long."
"Hasn't it though?"
It was as if all the fight fell out of David at once, shoulders drooping and body sagging and his smile wasn't quite as challenging as it was before. "I mean, maybe," he admitted. "But I've never announced how much I love Mary Margaret during a press conference. It shouldn't have gotten to that point, but-"
"-David!"
"Nah, he's right, Swan," Killian said. Her hair almost hit his shins when she snapped her head back towards him, mouth dropping open slightly as she exhaled. He crouched down, trying desperately to keep his balance and he leaned into Emma's hand when she rested it on her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"I know that," she whispered.
He turned, brushing his lips over the back of her palm and the side of her wrist, moving just above her laces and ignoring David completely.
He didn't make a sound.
"Merida really didn't teleport to Canada," Killian muttered, Emma's hand shaking when he worked a laugh out of her. "Although I do think she absolutely would for you."
"That's so stupid."
"No, it's not, Swan. And I may have gotten more people in my quest, intervention, whatever they were calling it, but I'm fairly certain Scarlet may challenge David in attempts to defend your honor."
"That seems really counterproductive."
"And he's definitely not stealing my spot," David said. "I've got years of this. My experience is unprecedented."
Emma laughed, closing her eyes softly as her fingers fell across the back of Killian's neck. His knees were starting to ache. He didn't move. "Make sure you mention that when they want to promote you, ok?" she asked. "Seriously, though, what was the bet? You're avoiding it. That means it must have been especially ridiculous."
"I mean, not ridiculous…" David wavered. Emma smiled at Killian. It was becoming more and more difficult not to kiss her.
He was considering doing it anyway.
He did it anyway.
"I'm standing right here," David yelled. Killian didn't move – he really wasn't sure he could, and he'd have to mention that to Ariel at some point because his knees definitely should not be that sore – just slanted his lips over Emma's and appreciated her quiet sigh against him and her fingers in his hair and it was a mess of limbs and tongues and feelings and references to late 80s toys.
Emma pulled back before Killian was entirely ready, lips pressed together tightly and breathing slightly erratic. He couldn't feel the back of his hair standing up, but Killian knew it was wrecked at best and he wasn't entirely sure what happened when Emma met his gaze, but it was like a world that had been spinning out of control since that hit in Jersey finally found its gravitational pull again.
He absolutely did not know enough about space to make claims like that.
"I love you," he said instead, resting his forehead on Emma's. Her eyes fluttered shut, fingers moving back to his jaw and careful around the cheekbone that was still very broken and incredibly bruised.
"More than anything," she finished.
And, really, he would have been more than willing to sustain whatever injury he was, no doubt, inflicting on his knees because it was definitely some kind of shift in gravity.
"Locksley, Ruby and I bet how many cookies Mary Margaret was going to bake because she felt bad she couldn't be part of the quest," David announced.
Killian didn't turn around.
Emma opened her eyes though – a flash of amusement and happiness that almost felt acceptable, despite dramatic press conferences and the several requests for another comment Killian was sure Ruby was dealing with.
"Did you win?" Emma asked.
"Nah, I thought she'd only make two dozen, but I've clearly underestimated how much she likes you. And maybe Killian. But mostly Emma."
"I'm not really offended by that," Killian admitted, glancing over his shoulder and David nodded like that was the only acceptable answer.
"Good because Locksley totally won. He thought more than three dozen. I swear Ruby did almost permanent damage to her lungs laughing at that. Nearly woke up Matt in the ER. She's going to be embarrassed now."
"What were your stakes?" Emma asked.
"Now Rubes and I have to take turns paying for whatever anyone with a Locksley and or Mills last name wants to eat the restaurant tonight."
"Were we going there tonight?"
"You want to pick up your kids, don't you?"
"Wait, what?"
"Scarlet and Banana took Peggy before my presser," Killian explained. "And then announced they were going to pick Matt up from school and then something about-"
"-The library," David interrupted. "I told you, Em. It was a very complex and involved quest. Mary Margaret took notes. Ah, God, don't tell her I told you that."
"No, no, no," Emma shook her head, smile as bright as it had been in weeks. Killian needed to get off the floor. "That's the kind of information I plan on lording over all of you for the rest of time. That's…" She exhaled, not quite a sigh or a huff, but decidedly emotional and Killian kissed the top of her hair. Her fingers had moved to the front of his shirt at some point, holding on tightly and he couldn't see David without falling over, but Killian assumed he was smiling too.
"It's ridiculously nice," Emma said. "Even if it's a complete disregard for personal boundaries."
"Yeah, well, you guys can't stop flirting with each other and you've been married forever, so, comparatively…"
"I don't think that's the same thing at all."
"No, probably not," David admitted. "Killian, tell Scarlet I'll beat him up for rights to be Emma's top defender and I'm really serious about my arrest threat."
"You're going to arrest Scarlet?" Killian asked.
"No, you."
"Oh."
"Right."
"Thank you Sergeant," Emma muttered, a fondness in the words that was almost too obvious. "For the excessive and only slightly necessary dad'ing."
"God, I hate that word."
"At least a little bit of older brother'ing."
"That's kind of better."
"Kind of," Emma echoed. "What are you going to do with all those cheeseburgers? How many things of fries did you order?"
"Way too many. I'll see if Mer wants any while she's tracking down Phillip's mom and then, I don't know, I'll just go hand them out to strangers or something."
"You might get arrested for that," Killian pointed out.
Emma laughed, letting her head fall against his shoulder and it was a strange balancing act when he tried to move his arm around her waist, but not touching her seemed insane and he was already a little frustrated they weren't still kissing. "David Nolan, cheeseburger fairy of Madison Square Garden," she giggled into Killian's shirt.
"That's the worst name I have ever heard, Swan."
"No, that's so good."
"Just Madison Square Garden?"
"You're totally right," Emma agreed, pulling her head up and her smile felt a bit like staring into the sun. "You've to take this show on the road, David. Just wandering around handing out slightly overpriced, but undeniably delicious cheeseburgers."
"Ok, ok," David muttered. "I am leaving now. I am not giving out cheeseburgers because we all know that is absurd. Talk to each other. Stop being so goddamn stupid. I'll see at the restaurant later."
He left in a huff, bags hitting his legs as he spun on the spot and Killian could barely make out you guys want some cheeseburgers as David stalked back towards the elevators at the other end of the hallway.
They didn't say anything for a moment, Killian still inexplicably crouched in front of Emma's legs and it was difficult to think of a single word when she kept doing that thing with her fingers.
She took a deep breath, a quiet hitch in the air and he'd never moved his head that quickly – snapping up and staring wide-eyed with something that felt like hope churning his gut and his incredibly sore calf muscles.
"Swan, I-"
"-Killian, I."
He chuckled lightly, head dropping forward enough that his hair nearly fell into his eyes. Emma pulled her lips back behind her teeth and her ring had fallen over her shirt at some point, light reflecting off the stone and, possibly, the ends of her hair and he didn't really think before he stood up.
That kept happening.
The no thinking thing.
Killian held his hand out, pulse thudding when Emma took it without question. Her fingers were warm when they wrapped around his, letting her direct her towards a surprisingly empty chair and she only argued a little when he tugged her against him.
"This can't possibly be safe," she mumbled, but the words didn't have much fight in them and Killian grinned into the jut of her shoulder.
"I'm not a time bomb, Swan. I really don't think there's any safety involved."
"You know that's not what I meant at all."
"Yeah, I did, but I'm really not worried about my ribs. There was an almost full nap staged on top of them earlier today."
She leaned back, his palm flat on her shirt to make sure she didn't move too far away – a move that either made him vaguely overprotective or the single most selfish person in a fifty-block radius and it was probably a strange combination of both.
"Yeah?" Emma asked softly, chewing on her lower lip like it was the world's biggest question. Killian nodded.
"Mine was definitely an intervention. There was quite a lot of sweeping judgment and I'm only a little concerned that the integrity of our front door has been compromised."
"Did Anna always kick it? I don't remember that happening before."
"That's because it's a very old habit."
"That so?"
Killian hummed, eyes closing and memories playing out and he had several strong suspicions that Anna might not be leaving New York any time soon. He wasn't sure why that made his heart feel as if it was growing exponentially.
And that was another enormous lie.
He needed to stop doing this.
The point of this was to stop lying.
"You going to tell the story or, like, just keep stalling by making your hair do that thing?" Emma asked, and Killian's eyes snapped open.
She grinned – as if she knew she won and he wasn't sure what she won exactly, but he was more than willing to give it to her and maybe the conversation could wait for a little more flirting and a little more reminiscing and if they started making out in that chair again then he wasn't really going to argue.
"It didn't start with the door," Killian said, trying to remember dates and secret codes and it was difficult to stay focused when Emma kept staring at him like that. Like maybe proclaiming several things in front of the entire New York City media and national hockey reporters was enough to make her swoon just a bit.
"You're still a garbage storyteller," she accused, tugging on the front of his shirt and shifting on his leg. He widened his eyes when that proved particularly difficult to deal with and her eyes absolutely got brighter that time. That was just science or something. "How come you didn't wear team-branded?"
"Swan, you can't ask questions that aren't part of the original story."
"Last one, I promise."
"Gina told me it would be better if I dressed up. Prove my dedication or professionalism or something. I didn't really care."
"Lazy."
He shrugged, tightening his arm around her waist. "Mostly I didn't want to spend fifteen minutes listening to El and Banana trying to decide which shade of blue was the most appropriate and closest to my uniform color."
"They would."
"A fact I am almost painfully aware of."
Emma laughed again, brushing her lips over his temple and the side of his hair. "The story, Cap," she muttered. "It apparently didn't start with the door."
"No, it didn't," Killian agreed. "My room in the brownstone was in between Banana and El's. It used to be some kind of actual playroom because that was the kind of house it was and when I picked that one Banana was furious. I stole her and El's spot and was, literally, in between her and El and it was a whole thing."
"She's awfully dramatic sometimes, isn't he?"
"I wouldn't mention that to her if I were you."
"Obviously."
"So," he continued, fingers tracing patterns against Emma's spine. He was slightly optimistic she leaned into it. "Banana was pissed, or as pissed as an eight-year-old could ever be when losing a room that most normal kids would never have."
"You're getting distracted."
Killian hummed, kissing the side of her neck and that only led to more moving on her part and an arm around his shoulders and fingers in his hair and he was almost out of breath by the time he started talking again.
"Anyway. Banana started kicking the walls."
"What?"
"I'm not kidding, Swan. Straight up kicking the walls. All the time. Morning, afternoon, middle of the goddamn night. It was the single most annoying thing that a human child could ever do, but I was terrified Mr. and Mrs. V were going to send us back at any given moment and Banana knew that too and I didn't say anything."
"God, that's evil," Emma muttered. "Seriously. Should we be letting her watch our kids?"
"There's a happy ending to this story, I promise," Killian said. He wondered if his whole soul would ever stop doing whatever at the phrase our kids. Probably not. He hoped not. "At some point, probably after she offered to be my first fight at the Piers, Banana decided she didn't quite mind that I took the room. And didn't quite mind that I was there or that Liam and I were staying there for the foreseeable future. But she didn't stop kicking on the wall. And eventually it kind of evolved into a...communications system sounds really lame, doesn't it?"
"I mean, a little," Emma admitted. "You didn't just want to learn Morse code with your feet?"
"We didn't have time for that. There was way too much hockey to be played."
"So you invented your own language. With kicks? And that's why she was kicking on the door? To communicate with you. Secretly."
"It sounds absurd when you say it like that," Killian mumbled, but Emma was already shaking her head. Her hair hit him in the jaw.
And, honestly, he probably should have been ready for it – Emma's head moving and her lips finding his and it wasn't quite possessive, but it was pretty damn close and he would have gone willingly, agreed to anything if it meant this stayed as it was or continued to be and the tenses weren't important.
Because nothing was more important than the moment and them and several other prepositions.
He figured it was prepositions.
He kissed her back.
It took, approximately, three seconds for Emma to sling her legs back over his, both hands in his hair and hips rocking against his and this wasn't really the plan, but it was definitely abetter plan and she gasped when Killian's tongue traced over her bottom lip.
Killian tried to sit up straighter, ignoring the rush of pain to his ribs and he was only a little worried his left eye was starting to swell shut. None of it mattered when his hands found their way under Emma's shirt, hiking up fabric until he moved over skin and the ridges of her spine and he hoped Merida had gone to Canada because the idea of this ending any time soon was almost offensive.
Emma arched against him, digging the toes of her shoes into the ground to try and get leverage and it was heady and desperate and needy and a whole slew of adjectives that didn't have a particularly great connotation either.
But the last two weeks and three days had been just that and neither one of them stopped.
They pulled back, breathed and kept going.
Again. And again. And again.
Emma's fingers kept moving, carding through hair that was far too long and over his shoulders, moving over his arms like she was trying to map them. He would have let her. Gladly. Enthusiastically.
He was basically a one-man thesaurus at this point.
Suffering from severe oxygen deprivation.
Killian might have gasped when they pulled apart, but that might have been Emma and the specifics weren't really important because he was, at least, seventy-two percent certain they were just occupying the same space at that point.
"God, that was…" Emma breathed, licking her lips and brushing her hair away from her face.
"I'm going to take that as a compliment, Swan."
"That was how it was intended."
He tried not to wince when he shifted in the chair, suddenly aware of whatever was poking into his back, but Emma had some kind of sixth sense for that and she narrowed her eyes when he hissed in a breath of air.
"We're really not doing great on this talking thing, are we?" she asked lightly, brushing over his side and the sigh wasn't so much a reaction as it was instinct.
Melodramatic asshole.
"Ah, I don't know about that, love," Killian countered. "Talking is sometimes incredibly overrated."
"We're going to end up breaking your ribs."
"But what a way to go.
Emma laughed in spite of the look on her face, and he moved his eyebrows – a smirk and an expression that was nearly a decade in the making. She swatted at his shoulder, or, at least tried, but he caught her around the wrist, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and just above her ring and Emma's eye roll didn't seem very enthusiastic.
"Stupid athlete," she mumbled.
Killian nodded, not letting go of her wrist. "I meant it, you know. Every single word. They could stage a presser for me every day and it wouldn't be enough to apologize to you, love."
"That seems kind of excessive," Emma sighed, smile falling off her face and that shouldn't have hurt nearly as much as it did.
"I"ll talk to Lucas. Once a day every day for the rest of...time or something."
"Definitely excessive."
"Worth it."
"I get why you didn't say anything," she said. "I do. And I get why those assholes in Jersey didn't force you into an MRI, even if I've come up with some very detailed and slightly dramatic ways to kill them and make it look like an accident."
"You've got an NYPD Sergeant on your side, love. I'm fairly certain you could get away with just about anything at this point."
"He'd rather kill you."
"I picked up on that, strangely enough."
Emma laughed, but it still sounded a bit like a sigh. And she must have moved before she'd thought about it, twisting so she was curled against his side in a chair that was definitely not big enough for that.
Killian didn't say anything.
He waited for her.
Indefinitely.
"I understand," Emma whispered. "And it's...God, I wish you hadn't done it. I hate that you did it. That you ever thought it was an ok idea or a good idea or...what happened if you got hit again? What would have happened if you never passed out and some asshole goon from, I don't know, Winnipeg decided he really wanted to make a name for himself by jamming you into the boards?"
"Did you pick Winnipeg for a specific reason?"
"I was trying to think of a small market."
"Ah, of course," Killian muttered, reaching up to brush the tears away from Emma's cheeks. She sighed again. "And I did think of it. Every single time I laced up and every single time I got checked in the corner. I thought about symptoms and repercussions and how much trouble those guys in Jersey would get in if anyone ever found out."
"But?"
"But then I'd get off the ice and you were there. And that wasn't a lie either, Swan. I can't be held accountable for my thoughts when you're wearing my number."
"What a line."
"The absolute truth," he corrected. "I'd get off the ice or I'd get home from a road swing and there were kids and smiles and Mattie is…"
"Definitely better than any other kid we know combined," Emma finished. "Both of them are."
"Yeah, they are. It's, God, Swan, it's everything. You know that, don't you?" Emma nodded. "When I got hurt before, I thought that was it. I'd maybe get back to the game and maybe win eventually and I wanted to win."
"That's because you're absurdly competitive. I refuse to believe I'm more competitive than you are. That's just blatant lying."
"Possibly equal."
"I could consider that."
"Good," he said, kissing just on the edge of her mouth. He could feel her smile. "This changed all of it, Emma. Made it matter and mean something and winning wasn't everything, but we kept winning and I just wanted…" Killian bit his lip, dragging his tongue across the front of his teeth until he was threatening to cut it.
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Emma said bluntly. He nearly knocked her on the floor. That probably would have ruined the moment.
"What?" Killian sputtered, but her expression didn't change and this was not the turn he expected the conversation to take.
"Dumb," Emma repeated. "Like the dumbest thing I have ever heard. I mean I knew it, but it's...shit, I can't come up with another word except dumb."
"That's pretty scathing as is."
She scoffed, body practically falling against his side and it kind of hurt his face when she gripped it in both hands and kissed him – hard.
"You know I was only kind of kidding about stupid athlete before," Emma mumbled, not bothering to move away from his lips. "You do not have to win another thing. Ever. You could get DFA'ed-"
"-That's baseball, Swan."
"Take my exaggerated point for what it is!" Killian nodded seriously, more than ready for her scowl and scoff and her hair fell through his fingers easily when he moved his hand. "I love you," she said, stabbing a finger into his chest for emphasis. "It has always been you and it will always be you and, yeah, Matt wants to win a Stanley Cup, but he's four. He'll forget the Stanley Cup exists if you don't ever skate again. He wants to be you, Killian. It just so happens, you're a hockey player now.
You are the best dad either one of our kids could ask for," Emma continued, a crack in the words and Killian wished he could stop making her cry. That didn't seem fair to either of them. "And it isn't because we stole a Conn-Smythe that one time or won anything. We could be the shittiest team in the league and it wouldn't make a difference. It'd still be you and me and us, collectively. As our own unit."
"Team, love," Killian said softly, Emma's breath hitching. "A team, right?"
"Not if you don't disclose injuries to your literal one and only teammate."
He let out a shaky laugh, burrowing his head into the crook of her neck and it smelled like that same body wash and home and that was absurd, but they were making veiled metaphors and shouting emotions in each other's faces and their very important, possibly life-changing conversation had been interrupted by a rather intense makeout session.
"I know," he said. "I know, but I didn't want-"
"-If you're about to tell me that you didn't want to disappoint me, I'm going to scream."
"You're kind of already yelling, Swan."
"Do not argue semantics with me right now. I've been going insane for the last two and a half weeks and I…"
She closed her eyes, jaw tight when she snapped her mouth shut and Killian tilted his head. "You what?" Emma shook her head. "No, no, that's not how it works, Swan. You what?"
It seemed to take forever for her to answer, eyes pulling back up to him in what felt like slow motion or reverse and the second one didn't make sense, but Killian wasn't sure he was still breathing and he'd never seen her look like that.
As terrified as Will promised she was.
He was going to schedule a press conference every day for the rest of his life.
"I should have known," Emma whispered. Killian froze. He was positive his heart stopped and the world stopped spinning and he refused to be held accountable for whatever noise he made – like all the oxygen had been forcibly yanked out of his lungs.
"Emma, no, that's not-"
"-No, no, it is though," she argued. "Because you should have told me, should have told several medical professionals, honestly, but it was a month, Killian! A month of games and I knew something was wrong in Nashville and I should have realized."
"That's not your job, love."
"Yeah, but I kind of want it to be."
His heart sped up to what was undoubtedly an healthy amount of beats per minute. Killian glanced down to make sure the stupid thing hadn't actually flown out of his chest and, at some point, he was sure, he'd have to pay dues to whatever deity had made all of this happen – this life and kids he was sure were the greatest on several different planets and Emmastaring at him like she could imagine a world without him in it.
"God, I love you so much, you know that," Killian muttered, surging up and catching her lips with his and the words got a little jumbled after that.
Emma hummed, mumbling something that sounded like context clues against his mouth. He never knew how long they stayed like – perched almost precariously in a questionably uncomfortable chair with Emma's right heel digging into his calf and a makeout session that wasn't quite as frantic as before, but felt a little more important – and it didn't really matter.
Merida had probably stolen Emma's cell phone.
"You are so much more than this team, or this game or another Stanley Cup parade," Emma said, fisting the front of his shirt again and he was going to have to change before they went to the restaurant. "Those are overrated anyway. Way too much work after the season is, technically, over."
"You're very good at planning Stanley Cup parades, Swan."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
"I'm sorry," Killian said again, trying to infuse every single ounce of meaning he could into every single letter. "I can't...I never wanted this to happen, Emma."
"I know that. I've known that the whole time, but it didn't make it any less terrifying."
"I don't want you to look up any more CTE symptoms, ok?"
She nodded, brushing away her own tears. "I don't want it to be over either, you know. This team and this game and it's always been everything to me too."
And, really, he wasn't going to ask.
He was going to apologize at least a dozen more times and maybe kiss his wife some more and see if he could coerce his wife to leave work early, but his mind didn't seem to care and-"Did you talk to Tink about this job?"
Emma stiffened, pulling in a breath of air through her nose and her answering nod wasn't much more than just a slightly awkward jerk of her head. "When?" Killian asked.
"Before David staged his quest. She wanted to see where I was leaning or if I was leaning at all, which honestly is bullshit since she gave me until the end of the month, but-"
"-Are you leaning?"
"I don't know," Emma admitted. "I think about it one way and it seems like the best thing I could be doing. It's probably a huge raise and the league is, you know, working for the league and I've kind of settled into community relations. It'd be crazy to do that internationally."
"And then," Killian prompted, working a quiet laugh out of her and he grinned when she kissed his cheek. The not broken one.
"And then I think about traveling and being on the road and away from all of this. And it kind of makes me sick to my stomach.. Even if this also includes tracking down Phillip's mom."
"If Merida can't find her, she doesn't exist."
"Yeah, that's probably true," Emma agreed. He felt her breathing against him, quiet inhales and steady exhales and they were always a little all over each other, or so both Ruby and Will would be too quick to point out, but he couldn't seem to stop touching her, just to make sure she was still there and still believed and, maybe, still his.
In a way that was decidedly less possessive than that.
"When I was a kid, I didn't really believe in anything," Emma whispered. Killian's fingers didn't stop moving. "I wanted to. Desperately. I wanted to think happily ever after was a thing and fairy tales existed and everything just kept reminding me that they didn't or couldn't or wouldn't for me. And I was never sure what was more depressing. All of it, probably.
So I got very cynical and angry and I know...I know you get that, but I wasn't kidding before. Reese's and David have been disgustingly in love since the dawn of time and I was jealous of that and them and then I showed up here and I…"
Killian smiled when she trailed off, ducking into her eye line and letting his hand rest on the back of her neck. "Changed everything, huh?"
"Yeah, basically," Emma muttered. "And you had this fairy tale family and overprotective linemates who were suddenly willing to defend my honor too and do you owe Ariel more life debts because she was part of your quest?"
"I'm thinking at least three now, but I'll have to check when I see her later."
"Of course. God, this team is so dumb. It's ridiculous. This is not normal. It's…" She shrugged, smile a bit wry like she was challenging him to disagree. He couldn't. "It's everything I wanted when I was a kid and it's everything I'd been waiting for and hoping for and I love you an absolutely ridiculous amount. Walking away from that is-"
"-Not what you'd be doing, Swan."
"No?"
"No," Killian repeated. "It's an incredible job, love. And you'd be incredible at it. And I...we could figure it out."
"I don't want to do that. That's selfish and ridiculous and I'm not saying any of this has been easy because I'm pretty positive I've fucked up your ribs in the last ten minutes, but I just want things to stay the way they are. Is that wrong?"
"Of course not."
"Even if it might not be possible."
"Of course not," Killian grinned.
"You sound like a broken record."
"That's a very old sentence."
"Yeah, it is," she laughed, and his ribs felt better than they had in days. "I don't know what I want to do and I'm absolutely awful at change and, I've been so worried about Casino Night and did someone tell you I forgot to get Mr. and Mrs. V tickets? Because that's super shitty of me."
"I promise they're not upset, Swan," Killian guaranteed. "If they get to watch Mattie and Pegs, they'll be thrilled."
Emma hummed noncommittally, shoulders shaking when Killian rested his head against them and he'd never be entirely sure what made him ask the next question either, but she kept staring out the window of her office and she'd been terrified. So his reasoning didn't really matter because he'd only ever really wanted Emma to be happy.
"What if I didn't come back?"
She turned her head slowly, eyebrows pulled low and something that felt like disbelief actually pulsing in the air around her. "What?"
"It's not guaranteed I can," Killian started, and Emma's eyebrows didn't move. "So that's part of it, but what if I didn't?"
"You want to retire?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But it's an idea, isn't it?"
"I don't understand."
"I don't have to play again, love. Not if there were more risks and there's no guarantee we'll ever win again."
"Shut up, we totally will."
Killian scoffed at the intensity in her voice, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep talking without dissolving into several other emotions. "I'm just saying it's an option. I could...I don't have to keep playing, Emma."
"So I can take this job?"
"If you want. It's not like there aren't other options. I'm sure Gina could figure out some loophole with my contract for injuries."
Emma gaped at him, mouth hanging open and eyes blinking far quicker than normal. "I don't...I don't understand. So what? I take this job and fly around the world and you-"
"-It was never just about me, Swan," Killian said gruffly. Her eyes got wider. "It's never been just about me playing. I don't want it to be. And if you want this job, then-"
"-God, shut up," she interrupted. They were a pretzel of limbs that time, but Killian was only partially certain he was still awake and cognizant when Emma nipped at his lip because he was fairly certain this was a dream he'd had at some point and there was not enough skin to touch.
There were footsteps in the hallway – probably Merida and Emma's stolen cell phone and maybe she'd brought Phillip's mom with her too – and Killian couldn't catch his breath when Emma looked at him.
"I'll think about it, ok?" she asked. "End of the month deadline. But I really need you to get a tux for Casino Night, because I really can't think about that."
"I can do that, Swan."
They did get out of the office eventually and Merida didn't find Phillip's mom, but Ruby tracked her down and got her a jersey and Phillip kept blushing every time someone brought up the ceremony.
"Can't we do it off the ice?" he asked, not for the first time as the whole lot of them walked into the restaurant.
"Rook, I don't know what to tell you," Emma groaned. "You've scored a lot of goals. Front office demands you stand in the spotlight for a few minutes."
"God, this is the worst."
"Yeah, your life is real tough."
"This is an easy fix, Rook," Killian added. "Stop scoring goals. Done and done."
"You're just worried about your scoring record," Phillip accused.
"I couldn't care less about my scoring record. And you're whining about something your wife has been talking about for months, so, consider that for a second."
Phillip sighed. "God, I hate when you're right."
Killian nodded once, slinging an arm around Emma's shoulder and it took less than a full instant for a small body holding a questionably large hockey stick to slam into his side. And another two moments for Will to catch up.
"What the hell is this, Scarlet?" Killian asked, picking Matt up despite both Emma and Will's objections. "Did you steal the stick again?"
"Nah, we didn't even go to the Garden," Will said. "That's mine from the apartment. The library got boring. So I expect it back later."
"Yeah, good luck with that," Emma muttered. "Shouldn't have shown him the stick."
"Rookie mistake, Scarlet," Killian said.
Will glared at them. "Whatever. I swear to God his wrister has gotten better in the last three days. It's ridiculous. Don't tell Belle about the dent in our hallway, please."
"Consider it done."
"You're a fantastic leader, Cap, really."
"Yeah, and you're trying almost too had. You get ice cream out of him too, Mattie?"
Matt nodded quickly, nearly dropping the stick in the process and he didn't argue when Emma pried it out of his hands. "Chocolate and chocolate sprinkles."
"Aw, c'mon, Dr. J," Will groaned. "We pinky swore."
Killian shrugged, flashing a smile when Matt wrapped both arms around his neck. "I think I rank higher than you, Scarlet."
"Well, that's stupid."
"Absolutely. David start buying Locksley food yet?"
"God, how do you know that too?"
"This team talks way too much," Emma answered, pushing lightly on Will's arm to move him further into the restaurant. "C'mon, I'm starving and I want real food after my Shake Shack."
She glanced back at Killian, Matt still hanging from his side and he'd probably think about the look on her face for several weeks. The rest of the season, at least.
"You good?"
"Better, Swan," Killian promised, a hand on her back as they settled into their spot at the end of the bar.