Killian had taken to Netflix as he had with almost everything in the realm without magic; hesitantly at first and then with an unexpected vehemence. He was one of the few inhabitants of Storybrooke with only one set of memories, memories which did not include details on the ins and outs of the realm and its modern technology. As such, he sought out anything which could make him more familiar with the world he now called home. While his research into this realm's customs often found him watching the strange moving pictures alone, he much preferred it when Emma joined him. Even though, perhaps especially because, they rarely made it through an entire film before they became engaged in much more pleasurable activities.

He breathed a sigh of contentment as he settled onto the Charming's couch, vaguely wondering which film they would half watch this evening. He had a sneaking suspicion it would not be much of anything, as he and Emma had quite unexpectedly found that they had the loft to themselves. However, as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, fiddling with the Netflix, he realized she seemed to have something else besides pillaging and plundering in mind. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, her lips tightly pursed, as she scrolled through the selection. She seemed restless, fidgeting beside him on the couch. He recognized her look immediately, she had always been an open book to him. This mood of deep concentration and pensiveness almost always accompanied her whenever she shared a piece of her past with him.

"What shall it be this evening, Swan?" He asked, as he casually draped his arm around her shoulders. He toyed with the ends of her hair, hoping to alleviate whatever tension clung to her bones.

"I was thinking The Princess Bride," Emma said with a small smile, as the rapid movement on the screen finally came to a rest. She always felt nervous recommending anything — movies, tv shows, books, food — to anyone. The feeling of lingering apprehension only intensified as she considered sharing this movie. While she knew it was slightly ridiculous, it meant a great deal to her and she desperately wanted him to like it as much as she did.

"Is this one of those chicken flicks your lad warned me of?" He asked jovially, hoping to lighten the tension that had settled over the room.

"Chick," Emma corrected, opting not to mention that she knew for a fact that chicken flicks were one of his favourite genres. She suspected he had a soft spot for the leads who managed to woo their woman. "And it's got a bit of everything. It's always been one of my favourites actually…"

"Then I have no doubt I will enjoy it immensely," Killian replied easily before he tucked her more securely against his side.

Emma sighed and curled up against him, her feet tucked neatly under her. She fiddled with the charms on his necklace, the remnants of her nervous energy demanding an outlet. Despite her markedly different circumstances, she couldn't help but feel a vague sense of nostalgia as the movie played. Her mind drifted back to all the times she'd watched this movie, her eyes red rimmed and her cheeks wet with tears after something had gone wrong with yet another foster family. Because she hadn't been good enough. In those moments of weakness she'd always wished for her own Westley to find her. For someone with eyes full of promise and sweet as you wishes, to hold her and never let her go. But he'd never come, so she had grown up and realized that the only one who could save her was herself.

She snuck a furtive glance up at Killian, and had to bite her lip to hold back a smile when she saw the deep look of concentration painted on his face. It warmed her heart to see how deeply enthralled in the film he had already become; his interest decidedly piqued at the mention of pirates. His rapt attention soon gave way to booming laughs. At first Emma felt that he was just throughly enjoying the movie. It was only after a couple cryptic comments about the sheer ridiculousness of the plot that she felt a prickle of irritation trickle down her spine. As the movie continued she began to suspect that he was laughing at the movie instead of with it. Each note of his laughter grating further and further at her paper thin patience.

"Really?" Emma huffed, after one ill timed chuckle too many. She extracted herself from his arms, feeling only a little surprised with just how irritated Killian's reaction to the movie had made her. "If you're just going to make fun of it we don't have to keep watching," She reached for the remote, but Killian stilled her hand with his own.

"I'm not mocking the film," He replied quickly, his eyes still bright with his fresh laughter. "It's magnificent, Swan, truly. The magic of this realm just never ceases to amaze me."

"I told you, it's not magic, Killian," Emma said with a roll of her eyes. She slumped back onto the arm of the couch, trying to put as much space between herself and Killian as possible, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She knew her reaction to Killian's less than favourable review of the movie was slightly over the top. It wasn't as if he had to like everything she did. But the whole situation had left her feathers ruffled and she couldn't bring herself to shake her annoyance. "It's technology and special effects and—"

"Aye, I've gathered that," He interrupted, the corner of his mouth quirking. "But the magic I was referring is the rather miraculous translation of the real lives of those in other worlds into mere stories for the people of this realm."

"And who's story is this?" Emma said, gesturing towards the TV, the movie still unfolding on the screen.

"Oh Emma, don't you see?" Killian said, as he tentatively inched closer to her on the couch. "It's ours," He continued with a soft smile. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"You, you think this is about us?" Emma asked incredulously, her eyes wide. "That we're Westley and Buttercup?"

"Well, at the very least they're based on us. There does always seem to be some discrepancies between reality and the stories of this realm," Killian replied. He gave a small shudder as he recalled the egregious tales of the demon child Peter Pan. Waxed moustaches and perms indeed. "Do you not?" He asked, raising his brow as he took in Emma's awestruck expression.

"There's bound to be similarities in anything if you look hard enough—"

"A dashing pirate captain somehow manages to capture the fancy of a beautiful princess? Does that not sounds familiar to you, love?"

"That sounds like a lot of stories—"

"Bloody hell, there is even a giant, Swan," Killian said with a broad grin as Fezzik appeared on the screen to underscore his point.

"Well, I mean—"

"Do you not think me as dashing as Westley?" He asked, his eyes twinkling and a hint of mirth in his voice. "I could grow a ponytail if you desire, Swan—"

"Oh my god, Killian, stop," Emma said with a laugh. She gently lobbed a pillow toward his head, which he easily brushed aside. His eyes crinkled from the weight of his smile, notably elated at the sound of Emma's laugh.

"As you wish," He said, slowly crawling towards her, until his body covered her own, pinning her between himself and the couch. Their skin just a hairsbreadth from touching. "Though the Dread Pirate Jones does have a nice ring to it…"

"You seriously think this movie is about us?" Emma asked, dumbfounded.

"Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles," He said, ever the quick study, effortlessly rhyming off one of Peter Falk's iconic lines. "I'd say that's more than a passing similarity wouldn't you, Swan?"

"You think," Emma said, swallowing thickly to clear the lump that had settled in her throat. "You think our love is true?"

The tips of Killian's ears reddened and he scratched the back of his neck, resting his weight on his brace. He suddenly looked more like a befuddled deckhand than the suave pirate Captain Emma had become accustomed to. Emma's eyes darted between his own and felt a surprising pang of hurt in her chest at the doubt she saw shining back at her. His silence on the topic speaking volumes. Overwhelmed, she dropped her eyes and shifted beneath him, suddenly feeling unbelievably foolish. True Love happened in stories, not to people like her.

"What makes you think we're not, that we don't have," Emma said, her voice faltering. "Is it because I'm, I mean I can be difficult—"

"Bloody hell, Emma," Killian interrupted, gently cupping her face with his hand and tilting her head until she met his eye. The intensity in his gaze pulled the air from her lungs in a small gasp. "It has nothing to do with you, I assure you."

"Then what?" Emma asked, her tone was laced with a deep desperation that made her voice sound foreign to her ears. She cleared her throat and jut her chin out defiantly, trying to regain some control. A feat not made particularly easy lying on her back, pinned beneath a leather clad pirate.

"Well, I attempted True Love's Kiss, Swan, back when you and Henry were in New York," He replied, his voice tight at the memory of his failure.

"True Love's Kiss doesn't work if you're don't remember your true love, Killian," Emma replied quietly, a small smile on her face and an almost embarrassing amount of hope surging deep within her chest. "Have you even looked at Henry's storybook?"

"Is that so?" Killian asked, his eyes suddenly bright and an impossibly wide smile donning his face. He couldn't help but think that this news was very auspicious indeed.

"Yeah," Emma said quietly, resting her hands on his waist. "I guess there's no way to know for sure until another curse comes along."

"What I do know," Killian said, playfully bumping his nose against hers. "Is that I have never doubted how I feel for you. And that what we have cannot be stopped by curses, or by death, or by darkness. And I love you, Emma Swan, as I have never loved another. And if that isn't True Love, I don't know what is."

"I love you too, Killian," Emma said without hesitation.

Killian's smile grew to an almost comical size, before he closed the distance between them and kissed her softly, his hand tangled in her hair. Emma arched into the kiss, relishing the taste of his smile and the feel of every inch of his body pressed tightly against hers. And in that moment, there was no lingering doubt or insecurities, no curses, or saviours, or darkness. There was only Killian and Emma.

"You're going to miss the end," Emma admonished with a nod towards the television when they finally broke apart, both more than a little breathless.

"I already know how it ends," Killian replied, his lips brushing against her jaw. The tickle of his scruff against her delicate skin pulling a low moan from her lips.

"Oh? And how's that?" She asked, rocking her hips against his, feeling satisfied that this time it was her who drew a deep groan from Killian.

"Because I know how our story ends," He said, leaning back to meet her gaze squarely before he continued. "The princess and the pirate succeed in spite of every obstacle and live happily ever after."

Speechless, Emma grabbed the lapels of his jacket and roughly pulled his mouth back to hers. She heard the promise in his words and could taste it in his kiss. As her hands threaded through his dark locks, pulling him closer, there was an unfamiliar, but welcome, lightness in her chest. And as Wesley and Buttercup rode off into the night astride their white horses on the TV screen long forgotten, Emma couldn't help but feel like perhaps she had found her Westley, her True Love, her happy ending, after all.