#flslp87

“So I trust you’ll be home soon?” Killian asked, starting to bring his gardening tools into the shed. He made sure to lock the windows so they wouldn’t blow open if the wind was too strong before he locked the gardening shed. “Have your father pick up the next patrol with his truck? The bug doesn’t have all-wheel drive…”

“I’ll be home in a little bit. I’m just responding to a call about some downed trees from the last wind storm,” Emma said, and he could hear her rustling around in the forest. “Also, who told you the Bug doesn’t have all-wheel drive?” She sounded impressed and a feeling of pride blossomed in his chest.

“Doesn’t matter how I know,” he teased her, and the smile disappeared from his face just a little bit. “It’s not safe for you out there when the roads get too wet. I heard the Storybrooke sign still is recovering from your first adventure in the rain here…”

“Don’t worry about me, babe,” Emma assured him. “I’m gonna be just fine, and unless this tree is gonna get me wasted on its whiskey or you’re planning on putting a wolf in the middle of the road, I’m gonna be just fine and so is the sign. And I know that won’t stop you from worrying, but I promise you I wouldn’t—” Her next words were drowned out by a clap of thunder, and the skies opened up over Storybrooke.

Killian rushed into the house as the rain began to hit him. He heard Emma cursing on the other side, and he tried to suppress the anxiety that flared up in his gut. “Emma, love?” he asked, hanging his coat up on the coat hanger. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “Just soaked to the bone. A little more warning next time, sailor.”

“Shall I draw you a warm bath as recompense, my love?” Killian asked her, already heading up the stairs just do that. He chuckled when she let out a delighted sigh at the notion. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased her.

“Hey, you don’t get to talk. Your hair isn’t dripping onto the Bug’s leather seats,” Emma shot back, but there wasn’t any bite behind it. Another clap of thunder and another muffled curse from Emma preceded the hum of the Bug’s ignition. “Good thing I got the windshield wipers changed,” she huffed.

“Aye,” he agreed, as he got to work setting up a bath for Emma. He paused when he heard her shiver. “Love?”

“I’m okay,” Emma answered. “Just cold. Even my coat is wet and I’m just waiting for the heating to kick in while I’m driving. I hate this weather, one minute you need to blast the AC and then it starts to rain and you need the heat like it’s the middle of winter.”

Killian hummed sympathetically and resolved to make her a cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon to go with her bath before she got home. “Well you’ll be home in less than two shakes, and I promise you it’s plenty warm at home.”

“How’s that bath coming?” Emma asked hopefully, sniffling as her nose began to run.

“It will be here ready and waiting for you,” Killian promised. “All I want for you is your heart’s desire. You know that.”

“I know,” Emma murmured, and he could see the affection glimmering behind her eyes. It warmed him more than any bath ever could, but he knew his Swan loved her comforts. And he would never begrudge her that.

Especially since she herself had shown him the wonder of what two people could get up to in a bathtub.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them, not wanting to hang up on the other, but not feeling like they needed to continue talking. It was something they had just gotten accustomed to after knowing each other for so long. He could hear the patter of rain on the bug’s windshield in the background while he began filling up the tub with water.

“Can you put some bubbles in?” Emma asked shyly after a few minutes. “Into the bath I mean…the ones from the purple bottle.”

“The one that smells like lavender?” Killian checked, already looking for it when Emma hummed her approval. “As you wish, my love.”

“Are you taking care of yourself too?” Emma pressed. “You’re dry and warm?”

“I will be shortly,” he promised her gently.

“Killian…” Emma warned.

“Please let me do this for you?” he offered. “And then I’ll look after myself.”

“You deserve to be taken care of too,” Emma said simply. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek closer to the phone. “And if you’re not taking proper care of yourself, I’m gonna take care of you as soon as I get home.”

God this woman.

“You do drive a hard bargain, lass. Just one of the many reasons I love you,” he murmured softly.

“I love you too,” Emma replied. “Don’t try to deflect me with your sweet talk though, mister. I expect to see a warm and dry pirate when I get home, got that?”

He decided to change into dryer, more comfortable clothes before going downstairs to make them dinner once her bath and cocoa were ready. He left a towel hanging on the coatrack by the front door, and the laundry basket just outside their bathroom.

The front door open and clothed, and he heard Emma’s muttered protestations about the weather before the echoes of her footsteps sounded up the stairs. He didn’t feel the need to greet her just yet.

Emma would come to him in her own time, as she always did.

Besides, he’d been married to her long enough to know not to get between her and a hot bubble bath.

The rain provided a soothing accompaniment to the gentle bubbling of the sauce in the pot. He hummed an old sea shanty to himself as he errantly stirred the pasta beside him.

It was nice, Killian reflected. To be in his home, making food for him and the woman he loved more than anything. To be in a space that was so quintessentially theirs together and separately. And quite frankly, both he and Emma had been lacking in nice for a good portion of their lives. To have it now made him thank his stars and thank Emma Swan.

Sorry, Emma Jones.

He felt a swell of affection for her that wasn’t so out of place. If he really counted, he probably went through this feeling at least seven times a day since the Final Battle.

And that was…nice.

Made infinitely nicer by his wife wrapping his arms around his waist, resting her cheek in between his shoulders. He could feel the damp press of her hair, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like the rain. No, her hair was warm and smelled of lavender.

“Hi,” she whispered, letting her eyes flutter shut. “Thanks for the bath and cocoa. They really hit the spot.”

“Anything for you,” Killian responded tenderly, still stirring the sauce. “There’s some time before dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?” He felt the nod against his back. “Well, far be it from me to keep you away from a meal, love.” She squeezed him a little bit tighter and snuggled in closer.

They stood like this for a few minutes—Killian working on dinner and Emma holding him from behind—until he finally asked with some amusement, “Just what are you doing back there, hmm?”

“I’m taking care of you,” she mumbled against his shirt.

“Am I warm and dry to your liking?” he asked, recalling her promise from their earlier conversation. She shook her head and nestled closer as if to rectify it. He didn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up within him, especially when he felt her smile against his skin. “You’re impossible,” he teased.

“And you love me for it,” she retorted happily.

“Aye,” he whispered. He turned the stove burners off and turned around to pull her against his chest. “May I have this dance, my love?”

Emma snapped her fingers to turn the radio on. “And now we’d like to play you a recording of ‘Moonlight Serenade’ by Glenn Miller and his orchestra…” the announcer crooned at them. As the clarinet began to play, and then the trumpet, Killian wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, while his hand came to hold hers.

Only the sounds of the rain and the orchestra seemed to matter as husband and wife stood in the middle of their kitchen, swaying with one another. Her head came to rest on his chest, just underneath his chin.   

“You okay, babe? You’re kind of quiet today,” Emma murmured, not looking up at him still. She didn’t need to for him to know that she was just taking care of him, just as she always did.