Surprisingly, Captain Killian Jones is not a morning person.
From what Mary knows of the military, it seems as if her pirate should be used to early mornings. Instead, he buries himself under the blankets as the sun peeks over the horizon, pulling Mary close to him and burying his head in the crook of her neck. Mary, despite the lifetime of rising late that she is used to, is usually the one to wake him up, eager for another day of sailing and swordplay and—perhaps most importantly to her right now—allowing herself to forget what is waiting for them when they hit land.
But other times, she lets him sleep. She watches his face, relaxed in a way it never is during the day, listens to his breath as his chest rises and falls. She traces the scar on his cheek and the ones that line his chest and arms, trying to etch the patterns onto her memory. She savors each moment as the sun rises higher into the sky, content to pull her pirate close and let him sleep just a while longer.
And when he finally opens his eyes, she tries to pretend that she hasn't been watching him.
"Good morning, Killian."
(She thinks that he can tell anyway.)
"Good morning, my love."