This is for my lovely Lisa, because she's the David to my Emma and I love her dearly.

Right, so basically, I'm majorly headcanon-ing that Emma is the one who brings up getting married. Because we all know Killian would put a ring on it in a heartbeat, but for Emma it would be much more of a huge thing for her to bring up of her own accord.

And then this happened. Pure domesticated fluff with a tiny slight mention of sexytimes but none of the goodies this time. Enjoy!

Revelations & Improvisations

If there was one ritual Killian Jones loved, it was the nightly ritual he and Emma had fallen into since she'd finally found a residence of her own. He hadn't ever 'officially' moved in with her, but even her parents had long since stopped believing he was spending his nights at Granny's. His few possessions had gradually, unassumingly, made their way to her small dwelling by the docks and neither of them had ever really commented on it.

It had started with his leather jacket – the one he never really wore anymore but kept for reasons he'd never speak aloud – being left casually hanging beside hers and Henry's in the hallway. Then a bottle of rum found a home beside her bottle of that godawful stuff she called tequila in the cabinet in the living room. After that, his toothbrush appeared beside hers in her bathroom and she wordlessly cleared a drawer space in her bedroom. But neither of them mentioned it or ever discussed the idea of him moving in.

It was such a natural, easy progression, and after a while she stopped asking him to stay, as they lay tangled together, breathless and sated, because she just assumed he would. He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment that had changed, because they'd fallen so seamlessly into living together.

It had been little over a year, but he never tired of savoring every moment with her. They'd almost lost one another numerous times, at the hands of one villain or another, so he never took a single day for granted. He remembered all too well, even a year after the fact, the dark despair he'd felt when the crocodile had taken his heart and left him believing his days with his Swan were numbered. But they'd seen it through and she'd won, as she always did, tearfully replacing his heart and whispering a broken 'I love you' against his lips as she did so.

They'd made love for the first time that night, in his room at Granny's, and since then they hadn't spent a night apart. So, when she'd come to him one afternoon, a couple of weeks after his heart had been returned to its rightful place, she'd dropped down beside him in what had seemingly become 'their' booth at the diner. With a grin on her face and a set of keys dangling from her fingertips, she had announced that she finally had her own place, and Killian had almost breathed a sigh of relief. There was only so long Granny was going to turn a blind eye to that damn headboard and Ruby wasn't exactly subtle with her side-eye glances, sassy comments and wolfish smirks.

She'd given him his own set of keys a week later and when Henry stayed with Regina, they'd christened most of the rooms. Killian still had to bite back a smirk whenever David sat on that comfy chair in the living room.

But as much as he loved their adventurous antics, it was the simple, domesticated pleasures that he most enjoyed. Watching Emma pad around the kitchen in her plaid pyjamas and the ridiculous monster feet slippers Henry had bought her for Christmas. Removing Henry's muddy sneakers from the bottom of the stairs and depositing them by the backdoor, because the lad was selectively deaf, apparently. Helping unpack groceries each week and adding things they needed to the little whiteboard Emma had tacked to the refrigerator.

And most of all, Killian loved the evenings they spent together, snuggled up in bed watching that moving picture box she repeatedly told him to call 'a TV'. His heart always, without fail, swelled with warmth and joy and love every time she curled into him, resting her head against his chest and absently flicking through channels until she found something she deemed interesting enough to leave on. He never minded what she chose, or the fact that he was rarely consulted on the decision, because his attention always drifted back to her before long anyway.

Oblivious, she'd engross herself in whatever TV show she'd chosen and he would draw lazy patterns across her shoulder and back. He'd press a gentle kiss into her hair and feel her smile against his chest in response. He'd breathe her in, getting drunk on the scent of vanilla and coconut that he'd long since come to associate with her, and he'd tangle his fingers in her hair, massaging her head as she hummed in appreciation of his endless talents with one hand.

It was all so normal and it sometimes made Emma stop and marvel at the fact that her life had slipped into being ordinary, without her even realizing it. She was dating, and living with, Captain Hook, who was surprisingly good at laundry and cooking and coaxing three or four orgasms from her body per night.

But Killian never stopped marveling at it all. He'd never dreamed he'd have this, what he had with Emma. He'd never dared hope for so much. Every day was a blessing and he treasured her more than he could ever really put into words. But she wasn't one for grand declarations of love or overly romantic gestures, so that was okay. She could read his feelings in a single glance; they understood one another. And yet, she still sometimes managed to leave him speechless, on the odd occasion.

Like tonight.

What had started out like any other night, Emma's soft curves pressed snugly against Killian's side, had taken quite the turn. She had her head resting on his chest as her fingers toyed with the hair on his chest, and she was ranting about why the bride on the television had made a horrible choice (wasn't she supposed to say 'yes' to the dress though? Wasn't that what the show was called? He would never quite understand modern entertainment). He'd chuckled and she'd fallen silent for a few moments, her gaze still trained on the television.

"Maybe we should do it."

Killian's heart stuttered but he didn't dare to hope, so gave her his trademark eyebrow raise when she turned her head to meet his gaze.

"Again, love? I was under the impression you were left quite satisfied."

She rolled her eyes and swatted him, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Not that. I mean…get married. Maybe we should do that."

He couldn't help but stare at her then, and he was sure he was probably gaping but he couldn't hear any of his thoughts over the rushing of blood in his ears. The words falling from her lips were not words he'd ever believed would come from her. At his shocked silence, Emma shifted in his arms, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in her green eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Love…are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded.

"Yeah. Let's get married. I mean, not right away, not right now or anything. But…at some point."

His heart was threatening to beat right out of his chest, he was sure of it, and Killian Jones had never felt quite as ecstatic as he felt right in that moment. Of course, he'd dreamed of making Emma his wife, of spending the rest of his life treasuring her and making her feel as loved as he possibly could. But never had he dreamed it would unfold in such a way.

"Who are you and what have you done with my Swan?"

He chuckled, his voice sounding much calmer than he felt.

"Shut up, Killian."

She scowled, swatting him once more. He saw that uncertainly flash across her face again and immediately regretted his response. She was being serious. Removing his arm from around her, he cupped her cheek and gazed back at her, hoping she could read the love in his eyes.

"Swan, to marry you would be an honor. It would make me the happiest man in all the realms. But…this isn't exactly how I'd imagined it. Aren't I supposed to be the one to propose, my love?"

She snorted in a rather unladylike way then (and God he loved it when she did that) and he couldn't help but think her eyes might just roll right out of her head if she raised them to the heavens once more.

"You're living in the 21st century now, Killian. Women can propose too, y'know…what are you doing?"

She frowned in confusion as he disentangled himself from the bedsheets and moved to stand up. Ignoring the fact that he was standing beside their bed, wearing nothing but a huge grin, he worked one of the rings off of his finger.

"I wasn't prepared for such a revelation tonight, lass, so you'll have to forgive the improvisation. But…" he dropped to one knee and offered her the ring he'd worn when his left hand had briefly been returned to him, "Will you do me the honor of marrying this old pirate, Emma Swan?"

It was his mother's ring, a double-banded silver piece with a dark, round ruby sitting in the center. It wasn't one he'd ever worn day to day since he'd lost his hand, because before that he'd always worn it on his left hand, so he'd kept it safely on the chain of trinkets around his neck. But after briefly having his hand returned and then losing it again the very next day, he'd slipped it the little finger of his right hand and worn it there ever since. Until now.

Emma bit her lip but he could see the smile in her eyes, the way they darted down to the ring he held out to her before lifting to meet his own. The love her saw there took his breath away and he realized that he was trembling slightly. She laughed then, a short, sweet sound that filled his soul, and offered him her left hand, holding his gaze as he slipped the ring onto her finger (it was a little too big but neither of them cared).

"Of course I will, you idiot."

Fin.