AN: Sorry for my slight absence- I've been especially busy between work and finishing up this school year. But with summer vacation right around the corner, I'm hoping to get a lot more writing done. Until then, enjoy this little drabble!
He once told her she needed to learn to appreciate the quiet moments.
And she had, with his help, with the six weeks of calm in the wake of Gold's banishment. They'd been granted the one thing they'd never seemed to have before.
Time.
Time to talk, time to laugh, time to sit and watch whatever story Emma decided Killian simply had to see on Netflix that night. They had time to do nothing at all, and those were often his favorite occasions, when he lay beside Emma on her small bed, stealing glances at each other and reveling in the knowledge that they had nothing more daunting to accomplish that day. The way her blonde hair splayed out along the pillow, her hand reaching to hold his, turning to face him...and smiling, always smiling.
He had missed that grin of hers, almost forgotten that it could exist, and never before so frequently, never with such sincerity. There had been days where he'd had to fight for just a glimpse of that smile, but now it came easy. It came with her carefree laugh filling the space all around them, with her dancing eyes turning his heart into a whimpering thing.
(He did so relish the fact that he was often the reason for that smile).
But then came the Crocodile's inevitable return, the universe reminding them that they were still in Storybrooke, and that- lest they forget - the magic of the town couldn't remain stagnant for long.
Emma's smile was far and few between after that. (Though not gone, oh no, never completely). Luckily, Killian was a patient man, and he'd never found a greater cause to await than Emma Swan and their quiet moments.
Even in the alternate reality, Killian had found the time to make Emma smile. (Or was it the other way around?) That grin of hers came to the surface, and his other self's heart stuttered. When he died in that realm, Emma had been the last thing he'd seen. Her face had contorted in shock and pain, yet still she was beautiful, always so beautiful. Slowly he had begun to fade away, the world growing silent, and it was a quiet moment of an entirely different sort.
Then he'd woken, and Killian was at last rewarded for his patience. All that time spent anticipating the day when Emma's smile- the real one, wide and so bright it was akin to staring into the sun- would return. And so this became his favorite moment:
Her hovering over him on the small bed as he sinks further into the mattress, drowning in her and all that she is. The room is quiet, Emma's relief tangible in the way she pins him down, anchoring his wrist in her grasp, her expression one of pure joy.
(He is alive, and Emma is beaming like nothing in this world will ever be as beautiful as this fact).
It occurs to Killian that it is this, this very moment, that he wants for the rest of his life. He wants every one of his days from this point on (however many or few there may be) to be spent with her. He wants to measure time by the way the light hits her at different hours. He wants to close his eyes and know whole days and nights are passing simply by the way her weight shifts on the mattress. He wants her and all these seconds, weeks, years. He wants every moment, quiet or loud, each one that he can have, each one that she's willing to give.
Because it was worth every dragging day to get to this point. To this moment of thank god. This moment of I thought I'd lost you. Of you could never lose me. Every bloody second was worth it for Killian to be able to look up at Emma and see what she holds in her smile.
(He hears the words as clearly as if she had shouted them).