So this was domestic bliss.

Jockeying for position in front of the small vanity in the bathroom three months into her position as Detective Emma Swan of Bangor PD's Robbery division. It was a comedy of errors that culminated in Killian bending over the sink to shave while she stood behind him attempting put on mascara when the mirror was four feet away.

"I don't know why you couldn't have bought a damn house with two sinks instead of a ginormous shower, Jones." Emma scowled as he ducked out of her way and she stepped up to the vanity to see her handiwork a lot like it did the first time she tried makeup. It was in eighth grade and there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell she'd ask her foster family for money for such frivolity. With no cash and no mother to give her any tips, Emma had gone to school one day with clumpy eyelashes caked with shoplifted mascara and a dreadful application of eye shadow. The whispers from the other girls had guaranteed she wouldn't show up to school again until she could do so without looking like Mimi from The Drew Carey Show.

Elbowed off to the side, Killian used a hand towel to wipe off any residual shaving cream, watching her as she rummaged for a Q-Tip, wet it with a twirl on her tongue and proceeded to rid the area around her eyes of any wayward Dior BlackOut.

"One, this is the first time we've had to share the bathroom on a workday. Two, there is another bathroom in this house. Three, I don't recall you complaining about the size of the shower when I'm fucking you in it." He kissed her cheek, simultaneously grabbing her ass, and Emma jumped. She went to pinch him back but Killian dropped his towel, effectively distracting her from retaliation.

He wasn't hard, not even halfway, but his cock had thickened at the mention of shower sex. It made her mouth water just looking at it.

"Hey! Swan!" He snapped his fingers and Emma looked at him. "Eyes up here, darling."

"You play dirty," she called as he sauntered out of the bathroom, all bare-assed swagger.

"You love it," he called back.

And yeah, she did.

Squinting into the bedroom at the alarm clock on her nightstand, Emma did a quick calculation to figure out whether or not she could demonstrate how much she loved it. Figuring they had saved a good twenty minutes by showering together in a completely non-sexual way, she made her move and rushed through the doorway, thinking a running jump onto Killian's back would get the ball rolling.

He was waiting on the other side of the wall and caught her around the waist, tackling her to the bed and pinning her face down, wrists caught loosely in his left hand.

"Bad form, darling, trying to ambush a man."

She struggled, more for fun than to actually escape, as he knelt between her legs and leaned, licking a stripe straight up her spine and sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. Hips bucking, Emma made an attempt to throw him off but her heart wasn't in it. Not when she could feel his cock lengthening against her ass as she moved.

"Let's see how ready for me you are, love." His right hand skimmed down, settling between her legs. Emma lifted her hips as much as she could to help give him room to find her slick and wanting. A few shallow thrusts and she was wiggling impatiently.

"Killian, we don't have time –"

"Don't have time for what?" Stilling his hand, he let go of her wrists and, bending over her, whispered in her ear. "Are you doubting my ability to make you scream?"

She knew he could. If he hadn't had her on every surface of the house in recent weeks, she'd had him. Leisurely lovemaking on the floor in front of the fireplace, impromptu, giggly sex in the dark of moonless nights, straddling him on one of the deck chaise lounges, and quick, dirty fucks on the stairs with clothes rearranged just enough to allow him to slip inside her from behind. And not once had she been left wanting; maybe shushed a few times as to not alert the neighbors to their amorous activities but always left breathless.

That's not to say she didn't like to bait him.

Emma shrugged noncommittally and knew Killian could feel it even as he was preoccupied nipping at her earlobe.

"You're going to pay for that, love."

A second finger slipped in beside the first, curving to hit – oh – the perfect spot. The pace he set was punishing in the best possible way and her fists closed around the sheets, still mussed from their sleep. The symphony of sounds filling the room only added to the sensations: the filthy sound his palm made against her with each stroke, the grunts falling from his lips as he fucked her, and her own breathy moans. When his thumb found her clit and started to circle, Emma felt the roll of impending orgasm and the sensation built when Killian felt her begin to tense and switched to slow, pointed thrusts that hit her G-spot every time. Just as she was balancing on that precipice and about to tumble over, he pulled his hand back.

She knew the shrieking sound she made bordered on inhuman and she reached back to whomp at him, completely missing with each wild swing, as his head dropped between her shoulder blades and he laughed his fool ass off.

"What the hell?"

She could feel him grin against her back and there was no doubt in her mind it was shit-eating, tongue most likely poking his cheek. Asshole.

"Told you I'd make you scream."

The huskiness of his voice made Emma shiver, as did the smooth dip of his hips as he slid inside her until he was buried to the hilt. The pace started off languid, more of a grind than anything else, the space between them nearly nonexistent. When he braced his hands next to her head and shifted back, the movements became shallow thrusts, hitting her in the same spot his fingers had reached. By the time she was on the verge of peaking, Killian had pulled her up on her knees, one hand between her legs and the other wrapped lightly around her throat.

"Right there, Killian. Don't stop. Harder. Please, harder. Yesssssssssss!"

Her fingernails bit into his forearm as she came and once the wave was over, Emma fell forward onto a heap of down comforter, opening herself up to him and rocking backward. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her firmly against him as he thrust forward.

"That's it, love. Fuck me back."

And fuck she did, along with some swirling moves and a few well-timed contractions around his cock. His rhythm stuttered after a particularly tight squeeze and Killian put aside all pretenses, slamming into her with a loud – and unbelievably sexy – grunt with each thrust. If they had more time, Emma would have sneaked a hand between her legs to chase down the second orgasm she felt pulling at the edge of her consciousness but instead, she gripped the bedding in her fists for leverage and threw herself into helping Killian reach his.

Just as his whispered oaths started, she whispered one back.

"Mark me."

A final press of his hips against her ass and he pulled back, fist working furiously over himself, knuckles brushing against her skin. With a shout he erupted, his essence hot as it hit her lower back.

Breathless, Killian fell to the side, wiggling up until he could fuse his mouth to hers.

"That was a surprise considering you've not left yourself time for another shower."

Emma stretched out next to him as he held his sullied hand up and away from her.

"Maybe I like the idea of wearing a little of you all day." She laughed as his eyes glazed over. "Now get a towel or something to clean me up, tiger. We have work to do."

They were getting burned out. Emma could see the frustration on their faces as she surveyed the room the task force had taken over. Makeshift desks were piled with notes about leads that went nowhere, some neater than others. Even in temporary quarters, the different personalities were everywhere she looked. Her own space was neat and sparse in the personal effects department, investigation binders color coded and catalogued. Robin and Will shared a banquet table pushed against a wall. It was three-quarters of the former's need for order and one-quarter the latter's legendary chaos. The ceiling panel above was studded with holes; a testament to Will's habit of tossing pencils when he was deep in thought.

Surveillance of the attorney had become both their best shot and the bane of their existence. As dedicated to stopping Dreamshade as the brass was publicly, funding to the task force had recently been cut and double shifts trading off between the office and sitting in various cars "borrowed" from impound outside the lawyer's house was taking its toll on the remaining personnel.

When voices rose, it was usually nothing personal but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the start of a scuffle. A patrolman had Will by the collar and push was very much coming to shove. Before she could move between them, Killian's command voice rung out.

"Enough!"

The uniformed officer was dismissed once it was determined they were both blowing off steam. Once Will came back into the room looking properly put into place – and followed - by his superior, Emma had already decided to offer up a reprieve.

"Captain, why don't I take the first watch tonight? I'm just waiting on a few calls back and don't expect them until morning anyway."

She let her eyes bore into Will's until she knew he understood the suggestion was mostly for his benefit. As Killian looked at the clock and reluctantly agreed a break was in order, she urged him to go with Will and Robin, ushering them out the door. Robin squeezed her arm and promised to relieve her once he got some rest and Will mouthed a grateful "thank you."

"Head home for a bit, Captain."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Is that an order, Detective?" He was leaning against the doorway, thumbs hooked into his belt buckle, and one hundred percent flirty as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

Emma took quick look around him to make sure nobody else was in earshot.

"Do you want it to be?"

"Darling, you have no idea." He tossed her a wink and left before his detectives took off without him.

Rolling her eyes at the stench of testosterone in the room, she pulled a bag from under her workspace. Years of chasing bail jumpers had given her no small amount of experience in surveillance, and over the years her personal stash of equipment had grown. There was nothing less dignified than sitting in a car with a shitty pair of binoculars and an off-brand disposable camera, hoping a mark would come close enough for a peek and a pic. It had been a long time since she'd needed to use any of it for work but the high quality camera had come in handy taking her Instagram offerings up a notch or two.

And maybe a few personal shots of a certain Captain squirreled away on a jump drive at home.

There was an hour before she needed to be outside the attorney's house, leaving her just enough time to sign a vehicle out of impound and grab her own late dinner.

"What if you get sick of seeing her all the time?"

Killian tossed a French fry across the table at Will that landed in the detective's pint glass. He put his arms up in a field goal "it's good" gesture and picked up his own beer.

"You're buying me another one if it tastes like salt." Will fished the fry out and took a tentative sip of the ale, wrinkling his nose. He pushed the glass away, nearly tipping it over and flipped Killian the bird. "Go get me another one."

"Or you could go fuck yourself. That's what you get for telling me I'll get sick of Emma when she's your friend, too." Saluting Will with his bottle Killian emptied it in two gulping, frat boy sips and belched, thumping himself on the chest.

"Keep doing that and she'll get sick of you first." Will's nose wrinkled with distaste – rich coming from someone who thought a committed relationship meant agreeing to get her an Uber before the sun rose – and he slid out of the booth to get another, tripping on the foot Killian stuck in his way.

"He's still charged from that thing with the uniform at the office and being his prickish self about it but it's a valid question." Robin took a large bite of burger and chewed, holding Killian's gaze when he looked up.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, pulling his leg back under the table and scooting back toward the middle of the seat. "And it's not that I haven't thought about it. But I'm so ready for this Rob. You know? I'm more worried she's the one who isn't ready for it."

"Emma seems the cautious sort. I've seen you two work together and it's nothing short of magic. It may be a rough start but you'll get through it. It's not like it's been smooth damn sailing so far and she still moved to be closer to you. And moved in with your ass."

Killian considered what Robin said and swung his head around Will's torso as he came back with two bottles – one beer and one root beer - placing one next to his own plate and making a show of handing the other to Robin. Killian held up a finger to the bartender and pointed down to the table. The girl winked at him and nodded, hurrying to bring another bottle to the table, all smiles and jiggling boobs. He thanked her and took a sip, shooting Will a look over the rim.

"I didn't know there was table service here," Will grumbled.

"There isn't," said Killian, "I'm just still a better prospect than you, live-in girlfriend or not." He laughed as Will hunched over in his seat, mumbling. To ease his friend's suffering he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Oh, don't be such a baby. Dinner is on me and then you yahoos can hit the bricks."

Will grunted and Killian knew he was thinking about Emma stepping into the watch shift in his stead.

"At least she's DGP."

Damn good police, indeed.

Emma's inclusion on the task force had proven to be invaluable. She was quick, thorough and had connections most departments would give their eyeteeth to tap. If there wasn't a conflict of interest – and they were already pressing right against the box of department policy with her on the task force – he'd scoop her out of Robbery and put her in his unit.

With no small amount of pride, Killian had already mentally mapped out her trajectory in the department. Lieutenant in two years. Captain in four. And he'd happily sit next to her – or in the next department over, as it were – as she occupied those thrones. She was a natural leader, recognizing when her compatriots were getting burned out and needed a break, hence his ability to duck out with Will and Robin for a late dinner with Emma taking their surveillance shift at the attorney's house.

When he returned to the precinct there was a buzz of excitement that hadn't been there when Killian left. As he walked through his bullpen, Zelena's head popped out into the aisle, stopping him.

"Your girl there got a break."

"She's not my –" Killian was interrupted by a wave of her hand as he stepped into the opening of her cubicle.

"Everybody knows and literally nobody cares." The tip of Zelena's toe was on the ground, swaying her chair back and forth. "Anyway, Emma asked me to do some digging on the attorney since this whole thing with Peter and his mother was a sham. Get this – it turns out his marriage is all smoke and mirrors. A perfunctory filing of a license issued to a Michael and Wendy Darling with the county but that's about it."

Killian's eyebrows shot up and he leaned against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other.

"Really."

"Mmmhmm. Their assets are in his name only: house, cars, investment accounts. The only thing that ties them together outside of the license is a safe deposit box that pre-dates the marriage but there's a discrepancy there, too. As unmarried co-applicants, the bank required them to disclose the nature of their relationship." Zelena held up a piece of paper. "The bank doc pre-dates the marriage license by a few years, and back then they were doing business as brother and sister."

"No shit." He turned that over in his head.

"I'm running an in-depth background on Wendy Darling right now. It may take a while considering the probability the name is fake. And there's a snowball's chance in hell these two are actually related. There's more but I'll let the illustrious Detective Swan tell you her news." She waved him off and turned back to her emerald city.

The temporary task force room was empty so he headed toward the conference room, lost in thought. Could this be it? An international crime organization would crumble because they couldn't keep their fake-ass family tree straight? Then again, over the course of years on the force and hundreds of investigations, Killian had seen criminal plots fall to shit over less. As he passed the glass wall of the conference room, he looked up to see Emma by the white board receiving handshakes and a clap on the back from a few of the task force officers. He started to smile but a photo taped to the white board caught his eye.

It was blurry and artificially lightened, an obvious zoom job from long range with better equipment than the department budget allowed. It was taken in the dark but he'd recognize the face anywhere. Bursting into the conference room, he could barely keep himself from yelling.

"Who is that?" Everyone turned to look where Killian was pointing to the white board but Emma was the one to speak.

"The surveillance paid off, Captain. That's Wendy Darling, the woman we believe is posing as the attorney's wife. Zelena is working on whether or not that's an alias –"

Killian put his hand up, effectively cutting her off. He clenched his jaw before speaking, trying to quell the rage he felt bubbling up to the surface.

"Tell Zelena there's no need. Her name is Milah."