Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters of Once Upon A Time. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.
"And this is a quiet moment," Emma found herself mimicking Killian. She even swayed her torso at him by shifting her weight just as he had. Only her hands were shoved in her back pocket instead of her thumbs hooking in her belt.
It wasn't dinner at a nice restaurant like he'd planned for her ("How'd you find this place anyway? I didn't even know it was here." "I'm a navigator by trade, have you forgotten? I'm very good with maps and this modern world of yours does indeed have quite a lot of them. All the same too, no need to study and discern what is the true route."), they could do that next time. This was her stealing away with him for a moment to themselves because Killian was right. Her being the Saviour was important, and her being a mother and a sister and a daughter was paramount, but she should carve out some time for herself too, time to be a woman, a friend and a lover, and treating herself meant spending time with the only person who actually let her be those things, who took her mind off all the other bits, all her problems, and encouraged her to enjoy her life as all of those things.
Killian threaded his fingers through hers. "What are we doing on this fine eve?"
Emma smiled with her lips pressed together. "How 'bout a walk on the beach?"
"Sounds perfect, love."
Emma crossed in front of the man to hold his hand. As they'd left dinner before dessert, Killian had wordlessly draped his new short leather jacket over her shoulders, commenting that he'd very much appreciated the jacket wasn't half as heavy as his longer one. Emma appreciated that it was that crisp-aired time of year she could leave her coat at work as she left for dinner with her parents and Killian and had a sweet, concerned pirate to worry that her little cardigan sweater wasn't enough to keep her warm when he walked her home.
Emma directed Killian down the street in the direction of the pier so they could walk over the boardwalk. She didn't really need to take the lead, by the water was Killian's domain and the streets he'd memorised when he'd first landed in Storybrooke.
The moon was high as the pair of them swung their joined hands between them, a spattering of stars poking holes in the midnight velvet stretched across the sky. The light glittered on the water and the tide was high enough that there was a sweet, salty scent in the air that Killian kept inhaling as though it was life-giving and affirming, content in their lapsed conversation until they found the first bit of pavement that made the walking track that snaked along the coast right to the forest where they'd turn around and make their way back.
"Now, don't take this the wrong way," Killian started, "but why were we so eager to rush out of dinner with your family?"
"Complaining about being alone with me, Captain?"
He chuckled and tugged her hand, turning her to face him before he pressed his lips warmly against hers, the pair of them smiling too widely to press for more. "Never, love."
Emma hummed, turning around again to take another step, smiling until her eyelashes smudged the view of water and starlight into a Van Gogh painting. Killian pressed his lips where her eyes crinkled at the edges, his skin warm and scruffy against her face.
Emma liked the peacefulness that settled over them and didn't want to ruin it, but she'd seen something in Killian's eyes last night when her mother had noticed his hand, watched the way he kept turning his rings around his newly returned fingers. Apprehension? Worry? Not simply the anxiety of a first date and fear something would go awry. Something a little darker had come over him earlier in the afternoon at the station, something akin to regret and again, the apprehension was at the forefront of his expressive eyes. He'd masked the expression quickly but Emma had caught it.
Now she wanted to know what it meant.
Emma stopped in her tracks. Inertia pulled Killian along until his elbow buckled and he turned to face her inquisitively.
Emma reached out and touched her fingers against chilled metal and gave the appendage a soft tug. "What happened?"
There was that scowl again, the one that communicated disappointment and anger. his blue eyes shifted towards his feet and in doing so the starlight that shone on his features abandoned him, leaving Killian a shadowy figure in the night.
"The Dark One gave me back my hand but it was a temporary loan."
"Gold and his loopholes," her scowl nearly matched his.
Killian shook his head softly, not blaming her or wishing he'd known better than to make a deal. He still hadn't told her the terms, but if Gold's side of the deal had been rescinded, she figured Killian's side was also complete and it wouldn't matter anymore. Or, only one side of the deal still mattered.
"Is your hand something you'd like back? Because-"
"No, Emma," Killian insisted hotly. "I couldn't ask you to do that. It's dark magic."
"We could get Regina, then," she offered. Why now? After all, the mayor was just as capable of dark magic, just as willing to use it - capable of light magic too, but still happy to play on either side of the fence.
"No." His voice was sharp and dangerous as a sword, fitting of the ruthless pirate's reputation. "There will be no dabbling in darkness by either you or the Queen on my account."
"But you made the deal in the first place," Emma started, prepared to insist that if his hand was something he wished to regain, she and Regina might be able to assist in some magical manner.
"It's good to have the hook," he explained. "That way I am always armed should we be attacked, a state in which we constantly seem to be. With my hook, I am the weapon, sharp and steady, should you need my protection, even if you are very capable yourself."
That last bit came with a grin and a placating little wiggle of his head and Emma would have eaten it up had the words preceding it not been so alarming and raw. It was strange to hear him call the appendage a weapon. As far as Emma was concerned, the curve of metal was a tool. It helped him climb beanstalks and pull ropes on his ship. It looped in the Jolly Roger's wheel spokes to steer and cut open coconuts. Yes, it was used for bloodshed, she'd seen that too, but even then, a tool for a fight, a gift, it had been. The hook was part of him, a symbol of the darkness he'd overcome and a reminder of all his loss, two aspects of his life that made Killian jones the man he was and led him to Storybrooke and Emma herself.
"Do you miss your hand? Is that why you wanted it back?"
"I thought I did. I enjoyed having it back immensely, touching your skin and hair." it could have been another one of his salacious lines, and certainly made Emma blush as though it was, but there was an innocence to Hook's words, a sincerity. He meant breathing her in, touching her in admiration, drinking her in with her eyes, not at all the things Emma was curious about, wondering if that look in his eyes, that tender touch, would carry over when they took their next steps together. "Being able to hold your hands with mine."
Emma turned toward him, walking backwards along the boardwalk so she could watch him. She held his hook with her fingers, his other hand in hers, just like they had with two pairs of hands the other night, and used both hands and hook to pull him closer. It was the first time she'd held him this way, gripping the steel as though it was his palm, but she saw no significance in the action. She as holding Killian Jones; flesh, steel, his leather collar and his feather-soft hair, all equally grippable, all equally him.
He watched her fingers dance over the metal as though he'd seen her do it before.
"Yet I have become so accustomed to the hook that I still favoured my right hand and failed to truly utilise the left while I had it. I suppose it was the same when I first lost it and had to learn how to only use my right, and then how to use the prosthetic."
"Hooks are good for sea life, yeah?"
"Aye." He grinned. "Handy."
Emma giggled, her head tossed back in surprise at the pun.
When her head returned to it's rightful angle, Killian was watching her with a sparkle glinting in his eyes and off his teeth, something like reverence pulled his lips apart. No one had ever looked at her like that before and Emma wasn't sure what it meant except that it caused her heart to gasp in her chest and her stomach to clench.
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Which one, Swan?"
"You know which," she leaned closer to him on her toes. "The one you're avoiding. Why?"
Killian pushed her hair off her shoulder and then turned his wrist in a circular motion, twirling her hair and twining it around the metal, eyes fixed on the movement.
"Because I have never known anyone but the lying blacksmith, the pirate captain, and the hero who travelled realms for Henry andI. You know what they all had? This tool, right here. They are the man I asked out. They are the man who I enjoy spending time with."
"You would have liked the man I was when I had two hands."
"I'm sure," Emma nodded at him, her eyebrows raised to show her interest and agreement.
She waited for some quip or another, some egotistical and cock-sure line that was meant to draw her in and push her away, distract from the vulnerable discussion of feelings with a flick of an eyebrow and the hint of desire.
It never came. So Emma supplied it herself.
She didn't mean for it to distract from the vulnerability, but to show him that she didn't mind the overload of feelings when it came from him, and show him she didn't see it as a weakness that they could talk like this. She'd never been able to talk to anyone like this and she quite liked the tingly feeling it gave her, even if it was terrifying. "I'd probably like you with no hands, too."
Killian's smirk split his face gleefully and Emma hummed in appreciation. She did that. Something was bothering her pirate but she had made him forget it, even if it was just for a second. She could see words forming on the tip of that infuriatingly visible tongue of his, something lascivious, but Emma continued before he had the chance to steer the conversation away from this.
"I know your fake hand bothers you."
"It's impractical and useless. Just for appearances and to save face."
Emma watched him carefully, staying quiet as long as she could in case it coaxed him into saying more. He'd worn the fake hand to protect Henry when he didn't have his memories and he'd worn it at David's engagement party back in the Enchanted Forest, thrust upon him by Rumpelstiltskin. Briefly, Emma wondered if he would have chosen to wear it then had he had a choice. It would keep their identities a secret and he had quite the reputation at that time in that kingdom, so he may have worn it to protect her. It also made him seem like just another of the princes with a prosthetic fit for dancing and diplomacy, not stealing purses and pulling ropes. If he were using a disguise to rob the castle, would he have worn his fake hand then?
"Do you despise your hook as well? Does it bother you?"
Hook tilted his head, attempting to deduce some hidden meaning. "Does it bother you?"
"No."
Her answer was quick but honest.
"Surely it does," his eyes flicked down to their joined hands, that yearning look in his eyes again for the second time that evening, the complete opposite of his awestruck expression the night before when he'd felt her fingers thread through hers like he was shocked and amazed and exultant. "I am either sharp or broken, armed of vulnerable. I am fractional whether I'm wearing it or not. And if you ever see me without it, I'm scarred and deformed."
Fractional? Fractional? Half, is that what he meant? Not whole. God. "Killian," she exhaled his name and her disagreement.
"I wanted to be more. Anything but the villain."
Emma stopped him with a rough shake of her head and the squeeze of his fingers, the press of her forehead against his. "I've seen you without your hook, Hook. Killian." She pressed a kiss against his soft lips.
Emma wanted to punctuate her next few words with a few more kisses, to his cheekbone, his eye, his nose, his lips again, but she'd never actually done something like that and wasn't totally sure how well it would go down. Would addressing his vulnerabilities by treating him as though he was weak and she was protecting him make him feel more insecure, make him feel smaller? Emma didn't want to risk it.
"You broke out of my handcuffs without it. You overpowered David without it. Hell, you took Henry out sailing without it and yet you still kept him safe and the boat floating. And with it?" She let her arms trail up his arms so she could squeeze his shoulders. "Well, you're Captain Hook."
"You're very good for a man's ego, Swan."
"All honesty, Killian. Think selfishly. Do you want your hand back?" He still hadn't answered. "Or a different attachment," she quirked her eyebrows just like he did. "Something modern, maybe?"
"You don't need to decide now," she told him. "But if you ever want an upgrade, I'm sure we could talk to Whale."
"Like you said, this is good for sailing," he told her. "Even if I don't have the Jolly, we still go sailing and the hook's quite useful. Perhaps, in another life, if I didn't have any ship at all, if I lived inland, I might replace it with something the world has to offer."
"Do you miss it?"
That wayward eyebrow scuttled up his forehead again, creasing his skin. Back in Neverland, the action would have made her roll her eyes, but now that she knew him better, had studied Killian's mannerisms, Emma knew the eyebrow moved almost of its own accord on two distinct occasions, one to flirt and the other to distract.
This was the latter and Emma wasn't going to let herself be pulled in.
"The Jolly Roger?"
Emma hummed, taking her hook and holding it, walking on Killian's other side now.
"No," he nodded, swinging their arms between them. "I miss her, naturally, and part of me will always want her back. But I made the right decision."
His eyes glittered with starlight when he turned them on her. Something in the pit of Emma's stomach fluttered with delight at the expression Killian wore.
Emma made to squeeze his fingers in acknowledgement before she remembered the hook she was holding. To cover herself and send him a similar comfort, Emma released her hold and looped her arm around his elbow instead, pulling her body closer to his in the process. She noticed he had once again referred to his ship by a female pronoun and was careful to remember to do so herself. "We're getting her back."
Killian startled beside her, baulking as though he had never heard a worse plan. "You're not heading back to the Enchanted Forest on your own, not after finally setting anchor here in your home. And you certainly going up against Blackbeard."
"You gave her to Blackbeard?"
The more he revealed about his missing ship; its original name, its former owner, how long it had been his home and the family he had shared her with over the years, the more Emma's heart swooped. He'd sacrificed so hugely, without question - faith in her and her family guiding him - and without recompense or request for repayment. He'd received a note; no guarantee it had even come from a friendly party, no guarantee the vial wasn't poison (something David had been quite horrified by when he realised Snow had not been the one to send it) and been so overcome with faith and excitement in equal measure, that he'd done everything in his power to adhere to its message just for the chance to see her again and to reunite her family. At her brother's naming ceremony, Gold had revealed a faint memory of Neal overtaking his mind and waking to a missing vial of memory potion, concluding that Neal ad sent the note to Hook, something that made Killian look at his shoes before he nodded and agreed Neal had said something in the hospital that confirmed it was he who sent the bird. Regardless of where his permission to return to the Savior originated, Killian had trusted wholly and succeeded, two qualities that made Mary Margaret grin at him and call him a hero. Even in the town she lived in, Emma couldn't even recall a fairytale where someone had done do much for another person without question or fail or compensation.
"You're mortal enemy?" She wasn't expecting or requiring an answer, merely trying to wrap her head around the whole situation. "Why would he even have a bean?"
"I have no clue," he shrugged. "Regardless, I am grateful he did."
Emma kissed his stubbled cheek. "Me too."
Slowly, she dropped down to from her toes, her face still turned toward him. Feeling her eyes on him, Killian turned to look at her, that twinkle calling to her and urging her to feel that warm breath and those worshipping lips against her again.
Emma's hands slipped around Hook's waist, her leather sleeves creaking with the movement, the cotton of his shirt soft beneath her fingers. She raked her nails against the meat of his back, teasing him through the fabric and encouraging his body closer to hers. Emma tilted her chest backwards and let the way they were pressed together at the hips entice him. Whatever the intense pull between them was, it kept them grinning and pressed tightly together, Killian leaning forward to cover her body cover his, the tight biceps that from decades of ship work squeezing her shoulders as his arms came around her, his hand pressing against her lower back.
The side of Killian's sharp nose pressed against hers, and they breathed together for a moment. He grinned at her like he knew exactly how desperately she was thinking of him. When Hook finally kissed her, his mouth was open, his bottom lip stroking up to suckle on her top lip. He did it again, opening his mouth dramatically but only barely kissing her lips. She loved it when he kissed her like this; slow and soft, promising, like he had every intention of taking his time. It made her pant, being kissed softly like that with every part of their bodies being crushed together; foreheads, noses, chests, hips. It was intense and passionate and promised that time didn't matter because they had all of it at their disposal should they wish.
And then his warm tongue slipped between her lips. Emma's knees buckled, embarrassingly enough, swooning over a man, but Killian was holding he so steadily it barely mattered.
His tongue was soft at that first touch, tasting the corner of her mouth. It caressed a line behind her teeth and his hand moved to grip her hip tightly, Hook pressed, food and soft, where her back arched to accommodate his force. Emma groaned, flattening her palms against Killian's shoulder blades and pressing herself tighter to him.
He roved across the soft inside of her cheek, her lips falling open further to grant him better access, a soft sigh escaping her. A delicious sigh exhaled out of Killian, rumbling in his chest and creating a tremble in hers. Killian placed a purposefully hard stroke against the roof of her mouth and that time Emma moaned.
She could feel Killian move against her, as though he was planning to shift away from her and beam cockily for earning the sound, or smile softly as though it was inappropriate for them to continue without having a real second date.
Emma pinched the soft skin at the back of Hook's neck to stop him from retreating, sucking on his tongue a little to keep him where he was and landing her fingers through his hair to hold him to her.
"No," she said against his lips, her fingernails grazing his scalp.
But the smug bastard did it, anyway. And he did it with a grin, pulling his tongue from her mouth and kissing her lightly on the lips.
Grinning at her, Killian cradled her jaw in his calloused palm and Emma shivered at the touch. Last night had been bad enough, but Emma hadn't been prepared for this. His touch alone set butterflies dancing in the bit of her stomach, her blood running thick and hot in her veins. Emma wasn't sure if she'd be able to stand if he touched he like that with two hands.
He kissed her once. Twice.
Emma opened her eyes to watch him do it, his face illuminated and ethereal. When she had his attention, she made a show of rolling her eyes, letting him know she wasn't impressed by the sudden tenderness.
Killian chuckled low in his throat and pressed his lips against her cheekbone. Emma tried not to shiver as he stroked his thumb over her cheeks.
"We don't have to rush, love," his voice was low and gravelly.
And just like that, because of that, Emma pulled his head down to hers by the hair. But Killian had had a similar thought, lacing his digits in her locks and cradling her head as he kissed her, that one had doing the work of two, caressing her everywhere as though he was desperate to make up for the lost appendage and doing well with it too.
She fisted her hands in his collar and pressed her tongue along the length of Killian's, savouring the way he grunted when she hit the back of his throat. She explored his mouth for a hot minute. He seemed quite happy to let her take charge, and then she felt his lips quirk.
Hook touched the tip of his tongue along the sensitive underside of hers, vying for dominance. She couldn't stop the whine that escaped her. He was just tall enough that sh ehad to stand on her toes, making her feel petite and protected, and completely at the pirate's mercy.
His mouth released hers and Monica inhaled a shallow breath, crying out when he pressed his lips to her pulsing jugular.
He massaged her hair, tugging ever so slightly so that her mouth fitted tighter against his, and the cool curve of steel that no longer defined him slipped beneath his jacket to touch the skin at the bottom of her spine, the hot and cold making Emma quiver.
Emma let her hands drift to his chest, pulling at the chains around Killian's neck gently. Then her hands drifted up the back of his neck, touching along his heady pulse. Her insides buzzed as she tangled her hands in his luscious brown hair again, his body impossibly close to hers.
Killian caught her moan in his mouth. He slowed down his kisses again, his lips nibbling against hers. He danced his fingers down the her side palmed his way up her back, his touch both soft and strong as he grazed her skin. Lightheaded, Emma gripped the ends of his hair and forced him to kiss her more deeply in the darkness.
Once they were sated, the soft tension gathered on the wind and drifting away reluctantly, until the need to kiss him dwindled to a needling urge rather than a raging need.
"How did Captain Hook and Captain Blackbeard become rivals anyway?" Emma asked as they started walking again.
"Actually," Killian corrected, "I wasn't Hook back then. We were working together, in truth, stealing a precious diamond from a distant kingdom. We had to ditch his ship because it wasn't fast enough to escape the cyclone and he's wanted my ship ever since."
"How'd the heist go? Where were you? How did you partner up?"
"A tale for you and Henry both, I assure." Killian promised. He did that quite a bit. Not always, but often enough for Emma to notice. If a story was fairly tame, or as tame as pirate exploits could be, he'd save it for Henry and offer to tell her a different one instead. Certainly, he watered down a few tales for her son and Emma was almost certain there were stories that should have been censored for Henry but weren't. Nevertheless, she liked that Killian had her son, and his best interests, on his mind.
"Next family dinner?" Emma tingled at the thought.
"I doubt your parents will appreciate hearing hours of my dashing exploits with as rapt attention as they deserve," Killian cast her a sidelong look. "Your father certainly will seize the opportunity to compete with his own daring tales, I'm sure."
"Really? You don't want to brag to them? I suppose that would become a bit of a pissing match, wouldn't it?"
"Next time we're out on the water then," Killian promised. It hadn't happened yet, Killian taking both her and Henry out into the harbour at the same time, but it was so easy for her to envision. He was good with her son, ruffling his hair and sharing stories and pulling him close to whisper instructions and teach him things. He always praised her on how brilliant Henry was, calling her attention to some new skill her son had learnt thanks to him but never bragging his involvement in the learning. Killian was also very good at distracting Henry with a simple pointed finger or encouragement to continue, or look at something, giving him a moment to steal a kiss and a smile from Emma. The word for what the three of them would look like to an observer was on the tip of her tongue, on the precipice of being achieved by the three of them.
"On another stolen boat?" Emma teased, "I'm going to have to start charging you for theft of property, you know?"
"Anything to get me in handcuffs, hey love?"
Emma snorted.
"Actually, Swan," he took on a superior air. "I talked to Leroy. A few of my own crew had been helping him restore an old boat while we defeated Zelena and Leroy kindly agreed to let me captain the vessel for a small charge."
Emma made a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat. "Henry told me all about Leroy's boat."
"I am compensating him for use of the ship."
She squinted at him, trying to discern if his honest voice was at war with his teasing expression or not. "Does he know that's why he's getting pouches of coins at the helm every so often."
"I'll have you know I give my payment to him directly," Killian told her with wide, honest eyes and a slow shake of his head. "Now."
Emma laughed and felt Killian watch on proudly as she did so.
"I'm sorry," she told him when she caught her breath back.
Killina squinted. "Whatever for?
"That you have to pay to even have a ship."
"I can go back to stealing, if that would make you feel better," he offered.
Emma swatted Killian's chest, grinning up at him as she let her body fall against his in sheer happiness that they'd had the vulnerable conversation she'd wanted and dealt with that expression that had crossed Killian's face before, and had now moved past both, slipping back into their teasing banter and finally giving in to that magnet that seemed to constantly pull them together.
"That might liven up your dull sheriff-ing days." So he had been listening in on her and David while he waited for her!
"Tell you what," Emma countered his offer with a negotiation of her own, giggling as she pressed her chest against his arm and watched Killian's cheeks flame at the sensation. All his bravado and salacity and Killian Jones still blushed when she touched him. "I'll text you on slow shifts and you can drop by."
Killian squinted down at her. "You just want me to stop dropping by when the whole town's in your office like last time. Monday's aren't normally like that, in my defence."
Emma squinted at him. "Yeah, My Mondays are normally really quiet. How do you know that?"
"I do live in this town," he chuckled.
"But David's Mondays are," Emma squinted at her pirate, confused. David always used to grouse about his difficult Mondays but whenever Emma filled in for him, they were devoid of any cases worth grumbling about. At least, that was before Neal was born. "How is that possible?"
Killian shrugged but there was that smirk that he wore when he knew something and was proud of knowing it.
"What have you done?"
"You and David, I guess," he added reluctantly, as though whatever it was Killian was doing, however, he'd convinced the town to be sleepy on Mondays, had been something he'd done for her first and foremost and her father was only a recent addition to the plot, his respect for David only new and secondary to whatever his first plan had been. "Need one day of rest, at least. I just asked a couple of the dwarves to not air their grievances on one day per week."
"And they listened?" Emma asked, disbelieving.
"I can be very persuasive," he grinned before Killian let his smile fall into something more serious. "And now that they've had a bit of a run as Sheriff they understand the job a bit better and were far more willing to comply."
"You are something, Killian Jones," Emma thanked him.
"Well," she watched, mesmerised, as Killian rubbed his lips together, "Perhaps gratitude is in order now."
Emma pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, fully aware of the way he stared at the bitten flesh. "We're in full view of all of Storybrooke."
"As we were the other night as well," he reminded her of their kiss on the street, making Emma blush this time.
Staring intently, pupils blown wide in the moonlight, Hook did not lean toward her and capture her lips. Instead, he said: "Well, love, we're back at the docks. Shall I take you home?"
Emma licked her lips. "Let's go around again. See where the night takes us."
Killian wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, his hook resting on her hip, and the pair of them walked away from the city and into the moonlight.