Emma accepted it gladly with a soft thank you, slipping her arms into the sleeves and hugging her torso. She was uncharacteristically vulnerable tonight, and he hoped that was because she felt safe with him.

She shivered still as she drew the jacket tighter around herself, and Killian came closer to wrap his arms around her from behind. She sighed and leaned back into him. Words didn’t seem necessary for the moment as they simply stood there, wrapped up in one another, gazing at the stars. Killian lowered his head to nuzzle into her neck, the scent of her shampoo making his heart thud loudly in his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if it was the quiet, or her softness in his arms, but the words just slipped out.

She stiffened slightly, and he held his breath, fearful that he had spoken too soon. She turned, still in the circle of his arms, her face flushed, eyes shining and darting to and fro. The moment stretched out, marked by the undulating sound of the waves below.

Finally, she raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him. He kissed her back, knowing it was the only answer she could give. At least for now.

 Two: Valentine’s Day

“Swan!” Killian shouted, as he burst into the loft. His fear ratcheted up a few more notches when he saw that the place was empty. It had been weeks since the Crocodile left town, and therefore weeks since there had been a crisis, but Emma’s text message had him falling right back into that mode. He glanced down at his screen to read the message again.

Come to the loft. Hurry.

He heard a laugh from the top of the stairs, and when he lifted his gaze from his phone, he saw Emma standing there, a bright smile on her face. Killian let out a huge sigh of relief as he pocketed his phone.

“Bloody hell, Swan, you scared me to death!”

“I scared Captain Hook?” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head. “Yay me. Now get up here, pirate.”

Killian did as she asked without further complaint. Belle had teased him about being whipped, and when she explained to him what that meant, he couldn’t really argue. He’d traded his ship for this woman, jumped through a time portal for her. Anything else was a trifle, really.

When he reached the second floor of the loft, Emma stood in front of her bathroom door with her hands behind her back grasping the doorknob. She wore an eager grin and there was delight shining in her eyes.

“Do you know what today is?”

Killian scratched his jaw with the curve of his hook. “Aye, Valentine’s Day, a holiday which requires Granny to decorate the diner with tacky red hearts and naked babies with bows and arrows.”

Emma chuckled and shook her head. “Yeah, I know, it’s kind of cheesy. But you’ve done so much for me, I wanted to do a little something for you . . . so . . . “

With that she flung the door open, simultaneously grabbing his hook and pulling him through the door. The claw foot tub in the corner was filled to almost overflowing with big, frothy bubbles.

“It’s a bubble bath,” Emma explained, shaking his arm excitedly. “You were so thrilled with showers, and my parents said there were no bubble baths in the Enchanted Forest, not like this, sooo . . ta-da!”

Killian grinned at the thought she had apparently put into this. He approached the tub cautiously, dipping his hand in to find the water invitingly warm. It was difficult to keep water at such a perfect temperature back in the Enchanted Forest. He glanced around and also saw candles burning all over the room.

“Come on,” Emma said, yanking on his arm, “before the water gets cold and the bubbles disappear.”

She had already yanked off his jacket and tossed it on the floor. He was blushing, which was slightly embarrassing. “You, uh, talked to your parents about this?”

Emma rolled her eyes as she unbuttoned his vest. “Are you kidding? My dad would have a coronary. After he pulled his gun on you, that is. I just asked for a few hours without the baby. I think mom suspected something, but my dad seems to be a little clueless about that sort of thing. Or at least when it involves me.”

Killian’s vest was cast aside, and he watched Emma as she worked on the buttons of his shirt. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she worked them. “How do you do this with one hand?” She muttered. “These buttons are tiny.”

Killian cleared his throat nervously as he closed his hand around Emma’s, “I think I can handle it from here.”

“No way, sailor,” Emma corrected him with a heated stare, “that tub is big enough for two.”

His blush only increased as he gazed into her eyes. Not only was this a new step in their own relationship, but it was a level of intimacy he had never shared with anyone after losing his hand. Sex became nothing more than a rough, quick release with nameless, faceless women who craved a night to forget just as much as he did. While some women had seen him without his hook, no living person had seen him without his brace since that horrible, painful day on his ship so long ago. And he hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was ashamed.

“Emma,” was all he managed to choke out as he rubbed his thumb nervously along the inside of her wrist. He wasn’t sure how to put what he was feeling into words. He just stood there, staring at the floor and clenching his jaw.

“Hey,” Emma said softly, reaching up with both hands to cup his face. She eased his chin up until his eyes met hers, and what he saw there stole his breath. Understanding. Patience. And above all, acceptance. She ran her thumbs wordlessly across his cheeks for a moment, then her hands drifted down to finish the buttons. She eased his shirt off his shoulders and one arm, then carefully worked the other sleeve around his hook. Then she ran her hand over the leather straps, almost as if she were admiring them.

“It’s okay,” she whispered as she unbuckled them. Her voice soothed him, but he still closed his eyes as she eased the brace completely from his torso. He kept them closed as her hands mapped his chest, his shoulders, his arms. Then she was cradling his stump in both hands, running her thumbs over the scars. His eyes finally opened to see her do what he had thought was unthinkable. She lifted his arm to her lips and placed a soft kiss at the end of it. His own breath came out in a shaky hiss.

“It’s okay,” she said again, pressing his stump against her to rest between her breasts. She stepped closer, her free arm encircling his waist, her cheek pressed against his chest, his bad arm wedged between them.

Killian, almost overcome with the tenderness of the moment, brought his hand up shakily to run his one hand through her hair. He lowered his face to breathe in the softness of her hair. “I love you so much,” he told her huskily.

She lifted her head to look at him, her mouth agape. Her eyes were awash with intensity, and he waited with bated breath for her words to come.

But Emma’s expression changed to a smirk as she yanked at the zipper of his jeans instead.

 Three: The Cabin in the Woods

He stands there, simply gazing at her in amazement. He can’t believe she doesn’t know. Tears prick at his eyes. Is it that hard for her to believe she’s enough?

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he finally manages to say around the lump in his throat. “It’s you.”

The look on her face almost kills him. So shocked and full of wonder. They are drawn together slowly, tenderly, and as he kisses her, he can taste a tear in the corner of her mouth. He turns to kiss the salty path on her cheek.

“I love you,” he breathes against her petal soft skin.

She just buries her face in the crook of his neck and sighs.

 Four: The Loft

One moment, lowly deckhand Hook feels cold steel slice through skin, muscle, and sinew. He reaches his one hand out to Emma Swan, regretting that he hadn’t grabbed hold of the moment offered him earlier. That he hadn’t leaned down and kissed her. Because no one has ever looked at him that way before. And no one has ever looked as devastated as Emma Swan does right now as he falls to the ground, the life bleeding out of him.

The next moment, his eyes are opening and he’s on his back on a hardwood floor. He’s Captain Hook again. No, he’s Killian Jones, hero and the man who loves Emma Swan. He smiles. They did it. Henry and Emma did it!

Henry! He leaps to his feet, ignoring the groans of Snow and David still on the floor behind him as he races upstairs to be sure the lad is ok. He doesn’t even have time to look for the boy when Emma bursts in, “Hook!” the first word on her lips.

He can tell she’s frantic and distraught, so he plays cocky and comedic. It was the right choice, as her face lights up with joy. She comes racing up the stairs, his given name now spoken with delight as she tackles him with a hug. It takes him by surprise when she tumbles with him onto the bed, knocking the breath out of him in the process. But he delights in the weight of her pressing him into the mattress and he enjoys it even more when she pins his arms on either side of his head, propping herself up to grin down at him. He really wishes her parents weren’t right downstairs.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you, love,” he tells her, “when I woke, I came up here to check on your boy.”

“He’s fine, Henry’s fine . . . “ She trails off, her smile faltering, and her eyes getting a sort of far-off look.

Concerned, he sits up, his forehead creasing as he searches her suddenly pale expression. “What is it, love?”

“It’s just . . . when I saw you die . . . I was afraid I would never get to tell you . . . “

Killian thinks he knows where she’s going with this. He understands her walls, her fears, her insecurities. Mostly because he’s felt them too. He tries to encourage her, but feels he only succeeds in plastering a ridiculously broad grin on his face.

“To tell you . . . thank you.”

For a brief moment, his heart drops all the way to his stomach. He died for her, and still she holds back. But he swallows down the hurt and disappointment. It has to be on her terms, he only wants it on her terms, and so he smiles. He barely hears the rest of her babbling thank you.

“All in a day’s work for a hero,” he tells her when she finishes. She presses her forehead to his, burying her fingers in his hair. He wonders if she expects him to say it like he always does: I love you. But this time, he can’t.