A/N: Thanks to CSBB for once again organizing an amazing event. I've been missing Captain Swan for the past year, and having this has helped so much! Thanks to Lana and Kaitlyn for their beta help. Go check out Lana's story when you get a moment as well – it's amazing! Thanks to Rachel for the art she has provided. Also, thanks to Kris for the cover art for the story and for beta help! All of you have made this story what it is! I hope you all enjoy what's happening and what is coming up! The next few chapters will hopefully be nice and fluffy… with maybe some smut thrown in! Not yet, but soon! Enjoy the chapter!

Domestic bliss was the best term Killian could use to describe the feeling he had waking up to Emma wrapped in his arms. He didn't want to move as his mind began to fully grasp what was in his arms.

During the night, they must have needed the feel of each other, because they were now tangled underneath the sheets. Her legs were intertwined with his, even though she was facing away from him. He was silently thankful for that, because if he had been given access to her lips right now, he wasn't quite sure what he would do to them.

Things had been awkward the previous night, even though they had shared a passionate makeout session only hours before. It was if everything was too real, all too sudden, causing Emma's walls to spike up higher than they ever had before. Killian wanted nothing more than to break down her walls, but he also knew that if he rushed her too quick, those walls may fortify or may crumble so hard, they ruin her in the process.

He had some history with pushing someone too hard, too fast.

Images flashed in his mind of Milah, their relationship playing on fast forward as he held Emma, listening to her sleep.

Liam had warned him not to go too fast, and Killian had known Liam didn't just mean sex. He meant giving his heart away.

He had seen firsthand how Killian changed after the shit with Milah happened. Killian knew his brother's warning the night before hadn't been misguided.

Killian knew he was falling hard and fast for Emma, but he also knew that his feelings for her, the way his feelings developed and evolved, were very different compared to his feelings for Milah. So, while they may have deepened quickly, with no pause or care, he knew that the feelings were based on a lifelong friendship and understanding.

Leaning forward, he wrapped himself around her more. His nose dug into her hair, breathing in the deep scent that was already driving him wild. She wiggled a bit against him. He was pretty sure she was still sleeping, as her breathing was soft and even. His joy could barely be contained though as she molded into him.

He thought back to the previous night. The smile on his face couldn't be contained as he remembered their dance as they made dinner, how their bodies were so attuned to each other, responding without a second thought. He just wished that he could get Emma out of her own head.

He had been nervous too. Hell, the whole way over to her house, his hands shook so bad that he thought he might get into an accident. Thoughts of Emma asking him to marry her, thoughts of her lips crashing against his, and the sparks that buzzed over his skin as their lips danced were all that got Killian safely to her house and out of his head.

Never in a million years did he expect their little lunch date to end with him knocking on her door, seabag in hand, about to move in with her after seeing her again after almost three decades.

A million questions rattled through his head as he tried to play cool. As she gave a tour of her home, he couldn't stop his mind from racing: did she have a set nighttime routine that he was going to fuck up? Did she have crazy rules about laundry and shoes in the house? Did she snore when she slept or hog the covers?

Thinking back on their childhood, and their many sleepovers, he couldn't remember her snoring; but you never know what habits someone might pick up. Not that he would mind; nothing could make him not sleep next to her, other than Emma herself.

He was never going to be anything less than a gentleman, so even though it hurt his heart a bit to offer, he still told her if she didn't want him in her bed, then he would stay away.

He was so glad that she said no to that suggestion.

Especially now that she was nestled under his arms, fitting perfectly into the fold of his body.

He was a bit embarrassed how much his attraction to her was showing. He was hard; no way of hiding it either. She had to have felt it too, especially the way she was wiggling underneath him, trying to get comfortable. It was making the morning very difficult. He knew he would need a cold shower to get through the day with her.

While he maybe a gentleman, he was still a man, and the thought of her body pressed up against his, Emma moaning the way she did when he had kissed her, drove him crazy. He couldn't wait till their relationship reached that point; but he wasn't going to push her. He treasured her more than words could say, his feelings deepening with each passing day, and he didn't want to ruin it by fucking it up, in more ways than one.

She turned beneath him. Looking down, he saw her emerald eyes looking up at him. There was a slight smile in them.

"Morning," she said, the huskiness in her voice making him harder than he already was.

"Mmmmm, morning, love," he responded, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips.

He didn't want the kiss to be too passionate, wanting to make sure he didn't pressure her into anything.

However, as he went to pull away, her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him back to her. She crashed her lips back to his, parting her lips slightly to allow his tongue access. It was like she knew he couldn't say no to the invitation. His arms instinctively wrapped back around her waist and pulled her close.

She hitched a leg up over his hip, moving the apex of her thighs to meet where he was waiting for her. He let out a deep moan, one that was almost a whimper, cutting the silence in the room. He heard her hum a quick acknowledgement before he went back to attacking her mouth.

To his surprise, she pulled him on top of her, allowing his body to completely cover hers, her legs opening automatically to allow him access. His hands skimmed over the sides of her hips and he pressed himself against her.

Her kiss was intoxicating, throwing every thought he just had out the window. It was like she was silently begging him to throw caution to the wind. The way her hands were roaming his back, the way her fingers began to tug at the bottom of his shirt, told him that she wanted to be intimate with him just as badly as he wanted to take her.

Yet as she continued to kiss him, soft moans escaping her lungs as his erection pressed against her through her small shorts, he knew they had to stop. He kept hearing himself yell that he couldn't make this mistake again.

He silently cursed her for wearing what she had worn to bed. The sports bra accented her perfect chest that he just knew would fit perfectly into the palm of his hands. Her arms were toned - probably still left over from her time in sports, but he could tell she took care of herself. Yet, her choice of top wasn't the thing he kept his eyes on when he had woken up.

Whoever invented the small cheer shorts that she wore, that had the white band that folded over and sat perfectly against the small of her back and curved at her hips, knew what they were doing. They weren't long at all, barley brushing her thighs, pooling at the joint between her hips and legs. And they were tight, not leaving anything to Killian's imagination.

It was as those thoughts about her shorts filtered through his mind that he pulled back. He looked down at a sight that would normally fill him with ecstasy - Emma's lips were parted and swollen, her cheeks slightly blushed, her eyes ablaze with want. But he couldn't bring himself to come back down to her.

"What?" she finally questioned, and Killian breathed a sigh of relief that she didn't seem annoyed by his abrupt stop.

He leaned back farther, making the space between them noticeable. He reached up and scratched behind his ear, a nervous tick that he had developed over the years. Sometimes he did it when he was being a flirt, but mostly it had to do with his nerves.

"Well…" he began but wasn't quite sure where he should stop, or what to say.

How does one say that they while they would love nothing more than fucking each other all morning, they would rather take their time to make sure that what was between them was more than just lust, or some other feeling that didn't amount to anything? How was he supposed to say that without looking like a massive asshole? How did he say that he didn't want to actually make love to her until he was sure they were in love?

He was pretty sure that was what he was feeling, but what was Emma feeling?

"Hey." He heard an angelic voice pull him back to what was beneath him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "All I wanted to say was good morning; now how about we go and get a grocery list together and start the day?"

He was pretty sure he sagged underneath her calm expression and soft words. Whatever did he do to deserve her? The angel beneath him understood his tribulation without having to say a word. She knew what he needed and his emotions.

"Sounds good to me love," he said, standing up, heading into the bathroom to take a cold shower.

The smell of bacon and eggs wafted into the bedroom as Killian came out of the bath, the cold of the shower still being felt on his body in the form of goosebumps. He had changed in the bathroom, not wanting to tempt Emma or himself anymore than they already had.

Padding through the room, he noted the bed was already made and the room looked as if no one had even been in there the previous night. He made a mental note to make sure to keep everything tidy after he used it. Even if Emma hadn't been a neat freak, he didn't want her to feel obligated to clean up after him.

It was something else he put down on his mental list of things they needed to talk about - chores. He had already discussed their eating situation, but he wanted to make sure he was pulling his own weight, and wanted to make sure they really were living like they were together. He wasn't half-assing this, he was putting all of his energy into these next few weeks. He wanted to make sure she knew he wasn't going anywhere. He wanted to show her just how good life with him could be.

His seabag rested against the guest room bed. Just looking at that bed, he knew it was not as comfortable as the one he was in last night, even without the pretty girl in the mix. Even though the smell of breakfast waffles through the air, he decided that before anything else, he should unpack.

There was a set of drawers that matched the bed underneath the window. Thankfully, none of the clothes he brought needed to be hung, so putting them away was quick work. What held him up was that box of letters. It was both a curse and a blessing at times; especially now when he really wanted to join Emma in the kitchen, watching her work, yet the letters called to him.

He sat down on the bed, verifying what he already knew about it, flipping through the box. His hands fell on the letter he knew would just support his decision to slow things down with Emma, a letter he wrote when his world fell apart for the second time.

Emma,

Milah left me.

She fucking left me.

I'm not sure where to start. I guess from the beginning.

So as you know (well, you know what I mean), Milah and I have been together for four years now. She's been with me through everything. Hell, I had only been with one other girl when I met her. I gave her everything, poured my heart and soul into our relationship. I was just a lowly seventeen year old when we met. I spent the last four years falling over backwards to please her.

I guess things started to change when we had sex the first time. I thought I was in love with her. I thought she was the one for me - well the second one for me since I knew that we would never happen. My life came alive when she was with me, and when she wasn't around I felt like a light was gone.

She was the one to bring it up, to want to have sex. I know that isn't the same for most lads my age, but I didn't really want to have sex. At least not until I knew she was really serious about us. I knew during the first year of our relationship she was seeing other people; she didn't admit it, but I knew a seventeen year old boy wasn't going to give her everything she deserved.

But when she asked me when we were "going to get it over with" (her words, and yes I know looking back that those words should have made me run for the hills), I couldn't deny her. Of course it helped that she was lying naked in my bed.

We were done in like two minutes and it just didn't fill me with any feeling. How pathetic was that? Yet, the look on her face when I made her come was what had me coming back each time. Her eyes shone love and devotion. How could I say no to that?

Things got better when I was eighteen - I researched how to make things better for us not only inside the bedroom but outside as well. I tried to be romantic and adventurous. Milah seemed happy for a while. She smiled like never before.

I know you really don't want to hear about the sex; but Emma, I couldn't imagine better. It was during those times where I really felt she connected with me.

Things were good.

But then I was a fool and started college. Now I know what you would probably say Swan - Killian, college wasn't something a fool would do, you made the right decision. I know that; but it doesn't feel that way. Not when I had to change my commitments.

Freshman year wasn't too bad, things between Milah and I were good. We partied; well she wanted to party and I wanted to be wherever she was. Every Friday and Saturday night we went out to one house party or another. Any other college kid would love that. Not me. I just wanted Milah.

Things started to really go to shit at the beginning of this year. I decided my major, and I knew I would need to really study to make sure I graduated in time. I couldn't be going out every weekend any more. My nights that used to be devoted to Milah now had to be devoted to my studies.

For the past few months, she had been begging me to move in with her; but Liam talked me out of it each time. He said if I moved in, I would probably quit school and he didn't want to see me in some dead end job.

I'm glad he stepped in.

Milah wasn't though.

She kept saying I wouldn't commit to her; she claimed that most couples who had been together four years were married or at least lived together. We fought constantly over it. I tried to make her see that I wanted to finish my degree first. I wanted to make sure that I could support her before we truly got serious.

I had always planned on proposing to her; I just didn't expect things to happen the way they did.

We had a pretty big fight two days ago. Two days ago, she packed her bags and threatened to leave. I went over to her house, excited to be spending the weekend with her; especially since it was the first week we hadn't been fighting.

The weekend before we both got pretty drunk and ended up screaming at each other for what felt like hours; but when we both woke up hungover- me on the couch, her in the bed - we came to an understanding. Promises were made.

But when I walked in on her bags packed, the house she lived in almost bare; I lost it. I thought we were good, we were going to try to do better.

She told me she was done, that our last fight was a nail in the coffin for her.

I begged her to stay, begged her to not leave me.

She wasn't budging, so I did the only thing I could think of - I proposed. I got down on one knee right there in the middle of her shit house and asked her to be mine forever. The look on her face was pure disbelief. She wasn't smiling.

She began to say something; I can't remember, because I just started talking over her. I told her I didn't want anyone else; I couldn't live without her. I told her I couldn't live one more day without her being my wife. I suggested we head to Vegas.

First, let me explain somethings. Milah had been telling me she wanted adventure, wanted someone and something to make her feel alive. And while I kneeled there, watching her face unsure of what she was thinking; I thought that this proposal and request to go to Vegas would be seen as adventurous and romantic.

I knew I had to do something to keep her from walking out of everything we've built.

I was absolutely ecstatic when she said yes. The love that shone in her eyes at that moment was all I ever needed. It was just like the looks she used to give me, those looks that I craved for years.

Yes, we had had our ups and down (more downs as of recently) but I knew we were meant to last. I knew it in my heart. So I was willing to do anything to prove it to her; screw Liam and his rules, screw what society thought, screw every doubt she or I had.

The flight from Dublin to Vegas didn't seem as long as it really was. Of course, we didn't have the money for nice seats, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was in my arms and would always be there. I just kept thinking, in a few hours Milah would be mine and all the shit that had happened would be permanently in our past, and all that mattered was the future.

The worst part was the layover in New York. Three hours anxiously waiting at the gate. Knowing that we were only five hours away from being husband and wife. Milah stayed in my arms the entire time - kissing and touching me - showing me just how happy she was with my proposal.

Once we arrived in Vegas we checked into some cheap hotel on the old Strip and began to get ready for the ceremony. While in New York, I called a chapel and made a reservation for the following morning. Milah said something about wanting separate rooms the night before - so I didn't think anything of it. I got us two rooms, then booked a larger, nicer suite for the next night.

I blew through almost all of my savings.

The next morning I waited at the chapel. I stood up in the front of that gaudy cheesy chapel, in a smelly rented tux. I waited like a fool. The officiant told me at the beginning that we had ten minutes to get married, as he has a full schedule and the next couple was waiting. I stood there, numb, watching the clock on the back wall tick. Even with one minute left, I thought, hoped even, that Milah would walk through the door.

I don't even remember walking back to the hotel. I don't remember much until about two hours ago.

Before I left for the chapel I checked out of my old room and into the new suite. I knew Milah's room number so I went by and taped a key to the outside, along with a note.

I found a note from her on the bed when I walked in. Along with the ring I had given her. Thankfully, it wasn't my mother's ring - I could never think of giving her my mother's ring, not when it belongs to you. Now, I know you are going to say that is crazy; but Swan, my mom wanted you to have that ring, and you know I could never go against her wishes.

The note wasn't long, much shorter than even my basic letters to you.

Not once did she say she was sorry. Not once did she give me a real explanation to what she had done to us. All that she wrote was some bullshit on how she realized she couldn't go through with it - she couldn't marry someone who was just doing this because they were scared. She said she deserved better.

When in reality Swan, I'm the one who deserves better. I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for the things I do to try and make a relationship work. I know that, but again, I'm heartbroken and I'm not sure what to do.

Maybe I don't deserve love. Maybe I will never find someone who understands me. Maybe the universe has decided that I'm too fucked up to be with anyone.

But what I do know is that I will never rush into anything like this ever again. I can survive this, but I can't survive it a second time.

Well love, I have to go now - got a flight to catch. And I have to prepare myself for the talking to of the century from Liam.

Love,

Killian

He had never been more excited to do grocery shopping. Walking with Emma, hand in hand, up and down the aisles of the store warmed his heart. He was determined to make her realize she could never live without him ever again, simply because she couldn't live without his cooking.

It was cocky, he knew that, but he was a pretty good chef. Watching cooking shows passed long hours for him on watch in the middle of the night.

The couple of women he had dated, and by dated he meant two dates - enough to be able to get fucked and not have to use his hand - had said he was the best cook. And even though he was mostly using those women for something superficial, he was still a gentleman to them. He never kicked them out in the morning or treated them any less than they deserved; however, he always made it known that he wasn't looking for long term and he wasn't ever going to fall in love again.

How wrong he was.

Now, with Emma's hand wrapped in his, stolen as they walked into the shop, a smile crossing her face when his hand slid naturally into his, he knew he was a goner.

They had a conversation that morning about his want to help out around the house - to not feel like a guest, but to feel like an actual member of the family. He told her he planned on cooking them dinner each night, if she was ok with it. The way she licked her lips as Killian told her what he planned on cooking told him that she was more than OK with it. He then told her he also wanted to help with laundry and the cleaning. She tried to tell him that he didn't need to help, but he would hear nothing different. To prove his point, he got up after kissing her forehead to wash the dishes she had used to make the breakfast he devoured.

He was nervous about the night coming up; more nervous than the previous nights. All those nights had just Emma, but now he was meeting her son. And sure, she may not legally be Henry's parent, but Killian could tell that Henry was Emma's son in all the right ways already. She didn't need a certificate or judge to tell her that Henry was hers.

He was worried that Henry would judge them for their situation. Killian was pretty sure Henry would be able to tell there was more going on between him and Emma than they were letting on. Sure, middle school kids were too involved in their own lives, but he was also sure Henry would be able to tell that his mom was acting strange or that there was an attraction between the two adults. And knowing how fate liked to play tricks on him, throwing wrenches into the mix when he thinks things are going right, he was pretty sure Henry would walk in on them, or catch Killian on the walk of shame back to his room. There was only one hallway in her house, after all.

Yet none of those things worried him as much as what Henry would think of him in general. Especially since he really wanted to make this work with Emma. He wanted nothing more than at the end of the month to take Emma into his arms and promise her the world; and he knew that if Henry didn't approve or agree, then there was no way he could do that.

Emma said Henry would be home around five, after a long day of playing paintball with Avery. She warned him that her son may be a bit standoffish - especially if he had used all his energy in his games. She explained that Sunday night dinners were normally a very quiet affair that could end with Henry falling asleep at his plate if he had a really good day.

Killian had planned on making his favorite from childhood - chili. Not only was it pretty simple to make, requiring him to just throw a bunch of food and spices into a slow cooker; but it reminded him of watching football matches (both American and European) with Liam and his dad before everything turned to shit. Every Sunday, the house used to smell of chili. Liam tried to keep up the tradition whenever there was a big match on when they had moved.

"Mmmmm," he heard a soft voice come from the entrance to the kitchen as he stirred the items in the cooker.

A small smile formed on his face.

"Killian, that smells amazing!" she exclaimed.

"I tried a new recipe today, added some extra spices into it. I wasn't sure if Henry liked spicy food or not, so I took out some of my normal spices and added in some that I thought a young lad would enjoy," the nervousness showing in his voice.

He felt arms encircle his waist, linking fingers in front of his stomach.

"He'll love it. Henry isn't really picky and eats just about anything. Thanks for making this," she whispered, placing a kiss against his shoulder.

Before he was able to say anything, or even think about the shivers she sent down his spine with the tender kiss against his shirt, a yell voice rang out in the hall.

"Mom, I'm home."

"Let me go talk to him really quick," Emma whispered.

"Aye, love; I'll set the table," he responded as she moved through the entrance.

The minutes ticked by, he could hear whispering coming from the hallway. Thankfully it didn't sound like confused or angry whispering - the kind his parents used to do early on before his dad stopped giving a shit.

He heard a door click close and Emma appeared in the kitchen again, a slight smile on his face.

"So, he knows you are here. He knows your name and that you are staying with us. He knows that we are old friends. That's about it," she sighed, moving to sit down at the table he had set.

He laid out three bowls, already filled with the chili from the pot. He had smaller bowls filled with sour cream, cheese, onions, corn, and salsa. He even had Fritos laid out.

"Hello."

The voice from the entrance made him turn around. Henry was standing there in the doorway, looking at Killian with confusing eyes.

"Hello lad, I'm Killian," he said, standing, as he reached a hand out to Henry.

"Henry," he said simply. There wasn't anger in his voice, just confusion.

"Hope you enjoy chili," Killian offered, motioning for Henry to sit down.

There wasn't assigned seating or anything; Emma had said though that Henry preferred the seat that looked out the window over the sink. Killian had been surprised he didn't choose the seat that had a pretty decent view of the TV in the living room. Emma explained though that while Henry enjoyed playing video games and he had some favorite TV shows, he preferred books and really wanted to spend dinner talking about his day.

She explained that once, one of the social workers told her that one of Henry's foster family sat the kids down in front of the TV each night, making them eat expired TV dinners and would yell at them if they talked during their shows. It reminded Emma very much of Matilda's family; so when she got Henry home she had said that if he preferred they could just use dinner as their nightly talks if he wanted when she saw him eyeing the TV; he agreed and it had been that way ever since.

"You cooked?" Henry asked, looking at Killian.

"Aye, I enjoy cooking - so I told your mom while I'm staying with you all I would make dinner every night, if that is OK with you," he explained.

"That depends on what you make," Henry replied with a slight laugh in his voice.

"Well tomorrow I was going to make homemade pizza," he proposed.

"Then hell yes it's ok with me!" Henry exclaimed.

"Henry!" Emma scolded.

It caused both of the men to start laughing. Killian found it endearing that Emma would scold him for saying something as tame as Hell, yet she loved cursing from what he could tell as she drove them to the grocery store earlier that day. He told them to dig in and enjoy the food. It was starting to get cold and his chili was best served piping hot.

"So Killian, Mom tells me your in the Navy," Henry stated more of a question than a statement.

"Aye, I am," he responded.

"How can that be if you aren't American?" the lad was inquisitive, and he wasn't offended, even though Emma looked horrified at the question. In fact, he got that question a lot.

"Well, I was actually born here. Same hospital that your mom was born at actually. My mom and dad brought me back to Ireland when I was young and because they are Irish, I am a dual citizen. When I got out of college, I decided on the US Navy and not the Irish Navy," he explained.

"Why?" He questioned as he stuffed his face with chili.

"I wanted to travel, and I knew that the US Navy would allow me to do that, and really travel. Plus, Liam had moved back and I wanted to be able to visit him easily. If I had joined the British Navy, I wouldn't have been able to see him as much as I have," he said.

"Who's Liam?"

"My older brother. He's ten years older than me, and moved back to Storybrooke when I got out of college." Killian's reply brought back memories of Liam packing up that apartment they had lived in, chucking the key at the landlord, cursing the place for even existing. They would have moved out of that apartment, but it was cheap and it helped Liam immensely when sometimes food got a bit expensive.

"I didn't know you had visited before," Emma injected, a pain exposed in her voice.

He looked over and met her eyes, hoping that she would see his silent explanation. He never visited her or told her, even though he was close by, because he wouldn't have been able to handle it.

"Well, not Storybrooke, love. Liam always came and met me in New York or Boston." There was an apology in his voice, a regret.

"Oh," she responded, leaving it at that.

"So what do you do?" Henry asked, not noticing the tension forming between the two adults.

"I'm a lieutenant. I studied naval engineering in college, but I'm not really using that degree. I work on the bridge helping chart courses and working the ship that way," he explained.

"Cool," was the only response he received.

"What about you, lad? Tell me about yourself. Your mom told me a bit, but I would love to hear some more," Killian questioned.

"What do you want to know?" Henry countered, and Killian couldn't blame him - if he had asked the same question, Killian would have been at a loss where to start.

"How about school - what's your favorite subject, sport, can I ask who your favorite teacher is?" Killian laughed a bit, hoping to pull Emma out of the silence and anger she was now sulking in.

He could tell she was pissed. She smiled at Henry at the right moments, but her smile didn't reach her eyes, and the glow behind those emerald orbs didn't shine as bright as they had.

He knew his visits back to the states would upset her. He knew it was cowardly of him to avoid Storybrooke by making Liam come to him; he knew there was no need for him to hide; but he was never quite ready to see Emma again. Plus, he was never around for long when he did visit, and he didn't want to see her again just to leave so soon, bringing back all of those memories again.

"Ok," Henry began, "My favorite subject has to be English. Right now we are reading The Giver. I've read it already, but that's what Mary Margaret, I meant Mrs. Nolan chose for the class. She is letting me read The Lord of the Rings trilogy for extra credit though. I like soccer OK, and play for the club after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I don't think I'll play it like professionally. In fact, there is talk of a video game club starting up after winter break, and I want to join that if I can."

Henry was rattling on. Killian could tell the boy loved school and everything that came with it. He was animated as he went into detail about this new club that wasn't even a real thing yet.

"Sounds very exciting," Killian responded.

"It is, at least it will be when it starts! There is even talk about getting a Switch - but Principal Gold has to approve it. I hope he will, even if Mr. Scarlett is the advisor," Henry added, a hint of annoyance lacing his voice. Both he and Killian looked over at Emma with his confession - and thankfully it had pulled her out of her own thoughts.

"Henry," she said as a way of warning.

It seemed as if there was drama at the school that involved more than the typical middle school teenage drama.

"Sorry, Mom," he said, but Killian could tell he wasn't very sorry, "and you can ask me who my favorite teacher is. Mom already knows it's not her."

With Henry's statement, Killian looked over at Emma to catch her rolling her eyes. The look she was giving said while it didn't surprise her, she was a bit sad it wasn't her.

"Then who is?" He questioned.

"David. Mr. Nolan. He's mom's friend and Mary Margaret's husband. He teaches Social Studies."

"Any why is that?" Killian asked, curious as to why he didn't find his own mom the best.

"Mr. Nolan is laid back, plus he teaches a unit where we get to pretend to sword fight. Plus there is another unit where we get to write, which I love. Science just isn't that fun to me," he explained.

Killian watched Emma roll her eyes, which made her look cute.

For the rest of dinner, they all fell into a comfortable rhythm of conversation and silence while they ate. Every so often, Killian would ask a question or Henry would; but mostly they each enjoyed the company that sat around the table and the food. Dessert was simple enough - some cookies they had picked up at the grocery store.

"So Killian, how long are you planning on staying here?" Henry had finally asked the question Killian was most nervous to answer.

"I'll be here at least a month," he replied, hoping that Emma would hear the hopefully longer, hopefully forever, in his voice.

"Cool, well I'm going to head to bed, I got some homework to do first though," Henry said, lifting one last cookie to his lips.

"Alright kid," Emma said.

"Night guys," Henry called as he headed down into the basement.

A chorus a nights rang out, but then silence filled the kitchen as Emma and Killian were left alone.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, just leave the dishes, I'll do them in the morning," Emma's voice chimed, but it didn't carry the same weightlessness it had before. Killian could tell she was still a bit upset at everything.

"Alright, love," he responded, not telling her that he was going to do the dishes no matter what.

He watched as she walked from the kitchen, wishing they could go back to an hour ago, when she wasn't angry with him. Or was she angry with him? He couldn't know.

Her demeanor had changed when Henry asked about Killian's travels, but he couldn't be sure she was upset with him. She seemed annoyed but he couldn't tell exactly what shifted her mood. He didn't want to assume anything.

After the dishes were washed and put away, he made the walk back to the bedroom, hoping he could talk to her about the sudden change in her behavior.

Growing pains was all it was. At least that is what he told himself. They were going to have to learn the intricacies of one another's behavior. They were both going to have to learn to let go of what happened in the past: he may have been a coward at times, too worried about what interactions with Emma may cause; but he was no longer that scared, anxious little boy.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait for her to get done; she was already sitting on the bed, wearing those shorts and bra that were similar to what she had worn the night before. Her hair was still wet from the shower and the smell of strawberries filled the room.

"What is it love?" He asked, beating around the bush just enough as to not scare her with an outright expression showing he knew she was upset.

"It's nothing," she lied. He could tell. Even though time and distance separated them, Emma had a tell that hadn't changed over time. She still played with her hands whenever she was nervous or lied. She wrung them together vigorously, allowing the energy pent up inside of her to be released through the rubbing.

"Swan," he pleaded, causing her to look up at him, while her hands continued to rubs against each other.

"It's stupid," she claimed, not elaborating more.

"Nothing you have to say is stupid. You're feelings aren't stupid. I can tell something is bothering you. From the second Henry asked me about visiting, your entire demeanor shifted," he came to sit down next to her at his little confession.

"I was angry," she began, in a voice just above a whisper, "I was angry that you didn't come to visit me. I know he's your brother, and I know it had been years since we had even talked; but something in me had always told me that you would have made an effort to come and see me if you were close, even if we hadn't spoken in forever. But then I realized that I shouldn't be upset about that. That I probably would have done the same thing if I was you. If I had visited Ireland, I would not have just come to see you."

He took her hand in his, in a way that was becoming second nature to him. Threading his fingers through hers.

"That's why I never contacted you before now," he explained. "I was scared, scared of what you would say to me, scared of how you would react. I know it was stupid to think that, but I did. I didn't want to come into your life and fuck it up. I didn't want to…. I was scared. It was as simple as that. But, I wish I had. Every single day. I regret not keeping in touch, I regret not coming around when we got older." He didn't take his eyes off of her when he spoke, making sure she understood just how much his words meant.

"I'm sorry, it was stupid," she said again.

"Love, it was anything but stupid. I can understand. Like you said, I probably would have felt the same way if you had come to Ireland while I was there and didn't stop by and say hello. I would be hurt at first, but in the end, I would have understood where you were coming from," he countered.

Maybe this is how fate wanted them to meet again. Maybe this was how it was always supposed to play out. Life didn't want them to reconnect when they were younger. Sure, Killian would have never made the mistakes he had with Milah, but they prepared him, and his heart, for Emma.

That's where he wanted to end up, with Emma.

She smiled at his words; tilting her head down to meet his shoulder. He heard a soft sigh, one of relief and content.

He removed his hand, and stood. With purpose, he walked around to his side of the bed - silently admitting it felt good to call it his side of the bed - took off his clothes spare his boxer briefs and slid under the covers.

"Come love, let's go to bed. Let's not think anymore on the past. What happened, happened - and while I'm sure we would both change many things, those things got us here, to tonight, so let's not let them affect us anymore, and enjoy what we have now."

She just smiled, slid under the covers, and spooned herself against him, fitting perfectly in his arms.