#heyooooooooooo

That, however, seems a bit selfish too and the last few hours have been a whirlwind of True Love portals and sleeping spells and doing his best to ensure that his voice didn’t shake while talking to the prince. And there hadn’t been much discussion, but Henry had mumbled something about it’s good to have you back, Killian before immediately dashing across town to Regina’s and leaving Killian and Emma alone in their house with slightly gauzy curtains and a ring back on the correct finger. 

He’s a little proud at how quickly he’d gotten her to make that noise. 

Before they’d even gotten upstairs. 

Killian’s fingers have started moving. They drift over the curve of Emma’s hip and the top of her thigh, careful and measured movements that belie how much he wants and, possibly, needs. 

Emma squirms against him, pushing back against his chest and the noise she makes isn’t quite right, but it’s awfully close. The pride blooms in between every single one of his ribs, a soft warmth that feels like home and several thousand blankets and curtains they’d picked out together when there was half a moment to spend focused on something so...domestic. 

“How long have you been awake?” Emma mumbles, twisting until the blanket falls away from her shoulder and there’s suddenly far more skin than Killian is entirely prepared for. The heat shifts slightly. 

And he kisses exactly where his lips land before he answers. He hopes Emma smiles. She does, at least, make some kind of noise, a low hum in the back of their throat. 

They’re getting there. 

“Not long, love.”

“Mmhmm. There’s a stereotype in there somewhere.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it sooner or later.”

Emma makes a less than dignified sound, a scoff and something that almost resembles a snort, and Killian’s lips move again, smiling against her skin. There are goosebumps there as well now, and it can’t possibly be good for his ego to be this close to flying this early in the morning. 

“Swabbing decks or something,” she continues. “I can’t think of anything else.”

“You’re an argumentative marvel.”

That time she clicks her tongue. And Killian jerks back slightly when she flips, taking him by surprise, which also feels a little absurd, all things considered, but he hadn’t expected her to simply appear in Neverland and he’d only been slightly hopeful she’d say yes, again, but he wants and needs and something else that’s constantly inching close to desperate as soon as she glances his direction. 

It takes a moment to ensure that they don’t inadvertently elbow each other, and it somehow ends with Emma’s entire leg in between his and neither one of them are particularly dressed. They had the house to themselves the night before. 

“I’m sure there’s something about rigging as well,” Killian grins, fingers trailing over her spine and that one spot just above the top of her hip that always makes her breath catch. Her left hip. 

Only her left hip. 

“Aren’t you the pirate?”

Killian lets his tongue drag over his teeth, well aware of what that does, and he’s seriously considering making several proclamations regarding the overall attractive qualities of Emma Swan’s current blush. She rolls her eyes. That may be more attractive. 

Gods, but he’s happy she said yes. Again. 

“Not an answer,” Emma mumbles, another twist of limbs and fingertips dragging over his chest, moving lower and lower and--

His breath catches. 

She beams. 

“A marvel,” Killian repeats, and they’re both far too preoccupied that neither of them mentions the lack of qualifiers that time. It’s more truthful that way. 

Emma’s answering laugh seems to echo around them, settling into the nooks and cranny’s and the worry about everything else, because there’s still an everything else, but Killian can feel the cool metal of her ring when she wraps her fingers around his arm and it’s still early. 

And he’s still a pirate. 

Selfish and greedy and he wants, wants, wants. With his whole heart. 

“I love you,” Emma whispers. He freezes. 

It’s far from the first time she’s said it. Far from the first time she’s pressed the letters against his chest, mumbled into the skin just above his heart like she’s determined to make sure it’s still there. And certainly not the first time she’s said it since he’s returned to this realm, earnest promises and determined guarantees mumbled into each other’s ears for the better part of the night. 

He freezes anyway. 

Because the sound of those words in that moment make Killian pause, pulling back to stare at her – this wonderful, maddening, life-changing woman who figured out a way to save him. Again. She doesn’t blink when he looks at her, and, really, he didn’t expect her to, never expected her to back down from anything, not when she was capable of doing everything, but he’s still not entirely prepared for the expression on her face. 

Exactly what he feels for her mirrored back at him. 

Like he deserved to be saved. Like she wanted to. Like maybe she was willing to be a little selfish with him too.

Her lips twitch when he keeps gaping at her, slack-jawed and barely breathing, although his fingers keep moving and Emma flinches as soon as he finds that spot again and there it is– the sound. 

He kisses her silent, which is more than a little counterproductive, but also seems like the only option and Emma mumbles something that sounds quite a bit like babe in his ear. He keeps kissing her, moving across her body and down, down, down and–

It’s his favorite sound in the world. 

They’re still a tangled mess later, blankets and limbs and more sunshine pouring through the curtains because it’s, finally, almost an acceptable time to get out of bed. 

Emma’s fingers rake through his hair, dragging across the back of his neck with a smile on her face and her ring where it’s supposed to be again. “I love you,” Killian says, not the first time he’s responded to her, but it feels important to remind her or promise her again and again. 

For as long as we both may live. 

She blushes. And kisses him again.