The walk to the small cottage is surprisingly fast, despite the bitter chill of the wind tonight. He turns up the collar of his new coat, almost wishing for the heaviness and length of his old one - which he still has in his room at Granny's - but that coat belongs to a different person (or so he'd like to believe). The person he is now - the person who loves Emma, the person who lives in Storybook, the person that the heroes trust - that person wears the clothing of this realm.
The path to Emma's new home is illuminated by a small light right outside the door. Killian knocks three times, then takes a step back, a smile already forming at the corner of his lips while he waits. When Emma opens the door, it grows, and she answer it with her own (it's so easy to make her smile these days).
"Come on in," she says, opening the door wider, and he steps inside. This is the first time that he's been to her house since she moved in a few days ago, and already it looks more like a home than it did when they first laid eyes on it.
The ice wall has kept everyone in Storybrooke, which means that Emma can't retrieve any of her belongings from New York, so they have spent time finding furniture from the shops around town. It's a patchwork configuration - a used table and chairs from a second hand shop, new mattresses from Storybrooke's small department store, odds and ends accumulated around skirmishes with the Snow Queen and searching for Elsa's missing sister. Emma had been adamant about making the place into a home as soon as possible, going so far as to extract a concession from the landlord that she could paint the rooms before moving in (they spent a night here, her entire family save her mother and younger brother, painting the walls green and blue and grey, Killian helping as best he could, painting the trim along the ceiling).
It is a beautiful place, and Killian is glad that Emma has it.
She closes the door and moves past him, her hand caressing his arm as she does so (he never thought she would be like this, so open with her touches when it came to him, and there is a thrill that passes through him with each contact).
Emma smiles over her shoulder as she leads him down the hallway towards the small living space they set up just the other day. He remembers helping her father maneuver the kitchen table beneath the large overhead light - not to mention the way that, once her father and son were outside, she slide into his space with the easy way that she does lately, as if it's all that she's ever done, pressing a brief kiss to his lips that promised more (and he knows there will be more, that this is just a preamble to other things, this place of her own).
"Beer?" she asks, darting into the kitchen as he takes off his jacket, drapes it over one of the chairs. He takes a look around, noticing the framed pictures of her and her boy prominently displayed on a bookshelf.
"Thanks," he responds, because he is always a gentleman, and then adds, "and where is Henry tonight?"
He hears the door to the refrigerator slam (smart invention, that one) and a few metallic clicks, then Emma returns, handing him a glass bottle.
"He is at dinner with his grandparents," she says, but there's a slight edge to her voice that he recognizes as only being there when she is carefully leaving out details.
"Isn't that a normal occurrence?" he asks, and Emma gives him a look before taking a sip of her beer.
"He's with Belle and Gold," she says finally, and there's an apprehensiveness in her voice that makes Killian wonder just when this development started. His curiosity must show on his face, because Emma merely sighs and adds, "he's apparently decided he wants to learn more about Neal, so he's been working at the pawn shop after school and Belle invited him over for dinner tonight."
There is a moment, when Emma tells him this, that Killian worries for himself - a selfish moment, one that he recognizes immediately as selfish, but which chills him to the bone nonetheless. He still hasn't told her about the Dark One and his bargain, not because he wants to keep it a secret - he's learned that's not the way go, not where Emma is concerned - but because he's worried that it will take some of the happiness away from her and he cannot, will not, do that, not when she's so happy, not when she's so light (not when he might be the cause).
(He'll tell her soon enough.)
"So what's the plan for this evening, then, Swan?" he asks, for if Henry will be home later then there is still precious time to be spent together, and he is eager for it (he is eager for her, for her kisses and her touches and her body against his). Emma smiles, and as she does so, there is a knock at the door,
It appears she has ordered food (and not from Granny's) delivered hot and fresh to her door (will the wonders of this realm never cease?). Emma brings it into the small living space, places it on a low table before taking a seat on the sofa. Beside it rests what he recognizes as a computer, something that Emma has used to retrieve information. There is some fiddling with her phone next to the computer, and while she does so, she instructs him to help himself to the food.
"Pizza," she says, when she finally finishes setting up, "and beer. Movie night staples."
"Is that what we're doing?" Killian asks as he sits down. "A movie night."
"Hey, you said you'd be okay with watching Netflix," Emma points out, and while he does remember the conversation (he's more lost in remembering her kiss, the way that she told him to be patient, and how patient's he's been since then and how amply he's been rewarded in kind) he hasn't thought of it much since the Snow Queen (or Ice Queen, whatever that frigid bitch is called) came to town.
He knows Emma is winding herself into knots at the thought that she doesn't remember that woman's presence in her life - he can see the weight of it on her shoulders each day as they search to find her with no avail. It bothers Emma, this obvious gap, and he cannot blame her for being worried; with each passing day it is quite clear how powerful his love truly is, and the fact that the Snow Queen could have been using Emma's magic for evil upset them all.
"So initiate me into this tradition, then," he tells her with a smile, and Emma leans forward and brushes her lips against his, softly, promising more to come (later, hopefully). She gets them both food, then turns on her computer. Soon, there is something on the screen - he's seen this, at Granny's, on her antiquated devices, but this is different. This is sharper, and brighter, and the sound is clearer.
"This is a classic," Emma tells him, settling back, arm brushing his. "It's about a kid who gets left home alone and he has to defend his house against burglars."
"Are you sure you want to watch a movie about thieves, love?" Killian asks, considering they've yet to find the errant Will Scarlet. Emma nods.
"Thieves I can handle, especially when there's nowhere to go." She takes a bite of her food (pizza, he's had this before with Henry). "When this movie came out, one of the foster homes I was in had a bootleg copy."
"Bootleg?" Killian frowns, and Emma laugh.
"Yeah, it means illegal. Basically someone went into the movie theater, recorded it on a camera, and sold it out of the truck of their car. Horrible quality, but we wore that tape out watching this movie." She smiles. "One of the better memories I have of the system."
On impulse, Killian leans forward, presses a kiss to her cheek (she likes that, he knows, watching the faint blush and the fluttering of her eyelashes) before settling back in to eat his food.
He can't help but smile - he's been doing it a lot these days, whenever he's around her and sometimes when he's not - and there's something about this, being with her…it feels right. It feels like they've been doing this all along, this intimacy, even if it's only recently that she begun to thread her fingers through his, thumb rubbing against his knuckles, or he's begun to kiss her on the cheek when they part. He is always in a state of awe these days, grateful at the way that she as accepted him so readily into her life, happy with how easy her affections have become.
Throughout the movie, Emma tells him things - little things, about the foster home she was in at the time, the other kids there, their plans to protect their meager belongs in case of theft (even though the threat was more likely to come from other kids rather than bungling thieves). He listens to everything she says with rapt attention, because things click into place the more she talks - the mistrust, the distrust, the hesitancy to let others in. He knew he recognized those features in her long ago but hearing how they were shaped, learning about her…it's different, now, when she opens up, and he can see more of himself in her with each growing day.
Eventually, once they finish their food, Emma shifts, grabbing a small (new) pillow from the corner of the (old) sofa and placing it on his lap. She lays herself down, resting her head on the pillow, wrapping his arm around her.
"Comfortable?" he asks, amused by her behavior.
"Very," she responds. "Now shut up and watch the movie."
It surprises him that, just as affectionate as Emma has become, he has become as well. Even with Milah he was never like this - exchanging touches and little hugs, meaningful glances and tender kisses. He hasn't had this ever, not in this form, and it is staggering to think that he could have this now, after all that has happened.
It's not only that, though. He is someone else with her - softer, gentler - and it's someone he never thought he could be. Sure, he is still fiercely protective of those he loves (for he loves her, Emma Swan, stubbornness and all) but this is different. She has changed him, made him realize there's more to life than revenge or hatred or greed; she's made him remember what is is like to be honorable, and to have a purpose, and that is a gift he is never sure he will be able to repay.
Perhaps he really has changed.
Eventually, Killian realizes that they are alone and he wonders if perhaps the movie is a pretense - he knows that she invited him here, he knows that her son is out, but he also knows her goodbye kisses have grown more fervent and so he wonders -
A soft snore comes from the golden head in his lap, and he can't help but smile.
Emma has been wearing herself out (yet another thing he knows) and it comes as absolutely no surprise that she has fallen asleep in his lap. However, he does remembers the woman he met in the Enchanted Forest, and it is no small testament to how far they've come that now she could trust him so much to let her guard down around him in such a way. He slides his hand out of hers, runs his fingers softly through her hair, brushing it away from her face.
Perhaps they both have changed.
It's at that moment that there is a noise at the front door and soon the sound of Henry's voice yelling, "Mom!" rings through the small space, followed by the slamming of the door. It surprises Emma, who wakes up suddenly, blinking as her son bounds into the room. He seems to take no notice of Killian other than a casual hello, instead comments on the movie they're watching and the pizza they're eating. Emma sits up, wipes her mouth as she looks from Henry to Killian and back, and blinks again.
"How long was I out?" she asks, and Killian shrugs. Henry is talking a mile a minute about dinner with the Golds, and eventually Emma holds up her hand.
"Let me say goodbye to Killian, and you can tell me all about it," she says, throwing an apologetic glance Killian's way.
She'll apologize more later at her front door, murmuring things about quality time and first time alone in forever between kisses and he just shakes his head.
"It's not like any of us are going anywhere," he tells her, and then adds, with a wink, "I guess you'll just have to make it up to me on our next date."
Her answering grin (and the kiss that follows) stays in his mind as he walks home, collar unturned once more against the wind. As he walks down the street, he swears he sees Gold's car, long and sleek and silent, but he might just be a trick of his mind, the guilt at not telling Emma returning.
He could not tell her. She was tired, and she needed the rest.
He will tell her about his mistake tomorrow.