"Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)"

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on )

(This is really and truly nothing but a small bit of fun fluff. Even the WHAM! song I appropriated the title from is just goofy and always makes me smile. I can't help but imagine all kinds of just silly, everyday things for our married pirate and princess to be doing in Storybrooke parallel to season seven. There was a lot of rain when I started this last week, I pictured Killian waking Emma up in a way that got him into some mischief, and here we are…

I still don't own them, but I do hope you enjoy! ;)

It had quickly become habit, once the Savior of Storybrooke and her pirate were married and set up house together, for Killian to rise early in the morning, have his coffee on their house's open back porch overlooking their lawn running down to a rocky beach and beyond that the harbor, begin fixing breakfast for them all in time for Henry to partake before he headed off to school, and then to man the morning shift at the station. To say that Emma was grateful for the chance to cuddle further beneath the covers in their huge, luxurious bed and sleep in, was quite the understatement, but she reveled in the opportunity all the same.

Not that she would want to take advantage of her new husband – she still felt a smile spread over her lips and a warmth throughout her limbs at being able to call him hers – but the crazy man genuinely seemed to enjoy his time puttering around by himself in their house, watching the sun rise and going about caring for his family – a natural "early bird" if ever there was one. Beyond that, it stirred every fiber in her being as surely as the gentle rays of that rising sun filtering in through the white curtains at their windows, for Emma to lie still curled cozily in bed and hear the cheerful voices of her husband and son floating up from the kitchen directly below. Though she couldn't make out their exact words, she basked in the joy and affection of their tones, which carried up the stairs to her waiting ears quite clearly. Very little could top how much she loved hearing her two True Loves – her family, her whole little word – enjoying each other's company so completely; laughing and joking, speaking of their plans for the day ahead as they rattled around; Henry setting three places at their tall kitchen island – they always left one set for her, so she was ready to eat once she came down for her own breakfast, just in time to see her son off and wish him a good day – and Killian finishing the pancakes, eggs, or whatever more creative delicacy he had prepared that morning and plated it up. Emma could clearly picture them both munching bacon and talking amiably, Henry's eyes lit with excitement as he shares the details of some story he's writing, and her pirate's eyes bright and attentive, giving her son all his focus in a way that Emma knows for a fact tells Henry just how much he matters to his stepdad, how Killian listens when he speaks as if Henry were the only person in the world.

As much as she did indeed love to sleep in, Emma in truth sometimes lingered in bed simply to give her two men their private few moments each morning; the father-son bonding an exquisite ache in her mother heart. She knew how very lucky she had been, with Henry's father lost to him, to have found a man who genuinely loved her son as his own – who had never hesitated to do so. He was willing to risk his own life – throw himself between Henry and danger – even before they were ever fully a couple, or she had even given him certain indication that they would be. He cared for Henry enough in his own right that he would have stepped back for Henry's family to be whole if events had gone that way, and all of his own accord, Killian had given Henry memories of his father Neal at the boy's own age, something Henry could hold to when the chance to know his father had been ripped away. It meant more to Emma than she could ever truly articulate to Killian, though she had tried and felt he understood more than anyone else would have managed to grasp.

That particular morning, as she rolled over onto her back and blinked into wakefulness, Emma was confused for a moment not to hear any of the usual clatter and hum of typical morning conversation. Scrunching her bow for a moment in thought, she remembered slowly that it was Saturday, Henry was with Regina for the weekend, and so Killian was probably still out on the porch with his morning brew, or had perhaps even ventured down to the docks to check on his beloved ship, while waiting for her to wake up and join him for whatever the day might hold.

As she awakened more fully, Emma registered the gentle pelting of rain on the roof overhead, a soothing rhythm that coaxed her awake with its natural symphony, soft and gentle. She listened to it contentedly while debating if she was ready to crawl out of her den of blankets and seek out her husband – maybe they could sit on the porch together and just watch the downpour while wrapped in each other's arms – when suddenly cold wetness broke into her thoughts, smacking against her side suddenly and soaking through her night shirt and across her cheek.

"Ahh! What on Earth!?" she gasped out, spluttering in confused surprise and quickly turning to see if somehow the window had blown open, only to meet the twinkling eyes of her pirate, droplets of sea water running down his face from his sopping hair, and having just snuck up and leapt back into bed with her, rain drenched clothing and all, nearly chortling with fiendish glee at her reaction.

Not content with merely having roused her into startled wakefulness and thoroughly chilling her from the cozy warmth she'd been lingering in, Killian proceeded to wrap her tightly in his arms – despite his sopping state – like some crazed octopus, and rub his dripping scruff playfully up her neck and over her cheek.

Half annoyed and half fighting not to laugh at his antics, Emma struggled to detach herself from his enthusiastic grip and smacked at his leather jacket clad shoulder, which only resulted in a wet squelching sound and him gathering her impossibly closer still.

"Killian, seriously?!" she finally exclaimed. "You're cold and wet! What are you doing?!"

Grinning with enough mischief and waggling eyebrow action to make her give in and smile back in spite of herself, Killian did finally release her and scooted back a bit when he felt her shiver. "Well, I've been enjoying the peaceful morn alone for quite some time now, wife of mine, and the idea struck that being curled up by the fire, watching the rain fall on the harbor, would be ever so much more enticing if you would join me. A surefire method of rousing you seemed to be in order, Love."

"Did it now?" she questioned drily, quirking a skeptical eyebrow at him in an effort to appear unamused for one last ditch moment. Truth be told, there was something in his honest desire for her company, even still, long after he had won her heart, they had married, and the two of them had more or less settled down together, which did her soul infinite good. For so much of Emma Swan's life, no one had even seemed to notice if she existed at all; she could have vanished from the face of the Earth chasing some skip in Boston, and there wouldn't have been a single person to miss her. Killian's desire to simply share his morning with her, realizing that he wouldn't be fully content until she joined him, made genuine happiness swell through her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. It was hard for Emma to believe that she had actually once wanted to be anonymous, lost in a sea of faces she cared nothing for so she couldn't be hurt again, and it had taken this lost man – this pirate who had given up all hope until they met – to show her just how far from the truth she was. What was a bit of a chill and having to dry the sheets and pillowcases compared to that?

"Fine, you win," she only pretended to grumble, shoving him a bit as she flung the covers off herself and began to get up. "I'm getting out of bed. See?"

Killian nodded, looking ridiculously pleased with himself and then leaned in, quick as a flash, to smack another loud, sloppy kiss to her cheek and dart away before she could whirl to catch him. Practically dancing across the room to the door as Emma huffed and squawked indignantly, he merely called back, "Excellent, my Love! I shall see you down there!" before making a swift exit.

"And there'd better be coffee!" Emma called out after him before moving to the dresser to pick up her brush and make some sort of haphazard bun once she'd combed the tangled – and slightly damp – waves of her hair. Shaking her head and smiling to herself, she pulled some sweats on with the oversized shirt of her husband's she'd slept in and moved eagerly to join him. She had to give him a bit of hard time, if just for show, but she would happily start every morning just like this.