He was sitting in a booth at the diner the next morning, staring out the window when he saw her. A light breeze lifted her hair from her face and she walked with the decisive stride he had come to know so well. His Swan moved with a purpose and he wondered if he was on the morning's agenda. The bells above the door jangled merrily when it swung open. Sunlight framed her as she paused in the doorway, eyes moving over the morning crowd. She gave him a secret smile and his mouth quirked up in response.

His gaze quickly fell to the mug of coffee on the table as her parents crowded into the restaurant behind her and he tried to stifle a rising sense of disappointment when the trio wove their way through the breakfast crowd in search of a table. He was aware of Emma making her rounds, greeting friends, listening to the occasional citizen complaint and so, was startled when she suddenly dropped onto the vinyl seat across from him. She met his surprised look with a calm gaze before glancing up to greet Ruby who stopped by with Killian's breakfast and an empty mug.

"I don't even need to ask," the waitress said, pouring coffee into Emma's mug. She laughed when the blonde leaned over the fragrant brew as if she could simply inhale the caffeine into her system.

"Can I warm that up for you, Captain?" Ruby hefted the coffee pot in her hand.

"Please." He held his mug out for her to top it off.

"How about you, Sheriff? You ready to order?"

Emma sat up and pushed her hair from her face. "No thanks. I ate at home with Henry before he left for school."

"Okay. Holler if you need anything," Ruby called and moved on to another customer.

"So." Emma slouched comfortably and swung her feet up onto the bench seat beside Killian.

"So." His hand automatically fell onto her leg, fingers skimming beneath the hem of her jeans to stroke the soft skin of her ankle.

"Go ahead and eat." She gestured toward his plate. "Before your food gets cold."

"It seems ungallant to eat when you are not."

She shrugged, reached out and stole the largest strip of bacon from his plate.

"Oi!" he exclaimed as she crunched into the flavorful meat. "I thought you said you had already broken your fast."

She grinned and licked a bit of grease from her thumb. "There's always room for bacon," she told him with a smug smile.

He grinned and sprinkled pepper over his eggs.

"My neck is burning," he claimed, carefully rubbing his hook over his nape. "Is your mother shooting fiery death glances toward me?"

Emma leaned to one side and peered over his shoulder. "Nope. That would be my father."

Killian wiped a hand over his brow in imaginary relief. "As you can imagine, I've had some experience with angry fathers," he quipped, "but I am not ashamed to admit that your mother frightens me. She's a formidable woman."

"Like mother like daughter, right?" she prompted.

"Indeed, milady."

"Well, you'll be glad to know you don't need to worry about Mary Margaret. It was her idea for me to come after you last night."

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise. "Truly?" he asked.

"Truly."

"I don't understand. Why would she even think to send you after me?"

"It turns out she's been on to us for a little while now."

He blinked, surprised by her revelation. "And she counseled you to follow me? Not to run in the other direction?"

Emma laughed and because he was so distracted by their conversation, she swiped another piece of bacon from his plate. She shook her head and took another bite. "She definitely told me to go after you."

Killian sat back, his expression one of pure disbelief.

"And she claimed to have known about us for a while? H-how?" He had been so sure they had been discreet.

"She said she suspected it by the way I carefully avoided looking directly at you – but that she knew for sure when she saw the way you look at me.

"Oh? And how do I look at you?"

Emma braced her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands. Staring directly into his eyes, her voice dropped to a husky murmur.

"She said you look at me like you want to eat me up."

Her gaze held his for a long moment before falling to his mouth and Killian felt heat flush through his body. His vision glazed over as he watched her tongue sweep out to moisten suddenly dry lips.

"Swan," he groaned.

"Whew!" She leaned back in her seat and fanned herself, taking a sip of rapidly cooling coffee to wet her throat. "This may be a little too public a place for this conversation," she said with a wry grin.

"Aye." He cleared his throat and blew out a long breath. "Aye, love. You may be right." He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position in pants that suddenly felt two sizes too small.

"Yeah." She lowered her feet to the floor and slid to the end of her seat. "Duty calls," she said as she rose to her feet. "I gotta go. What's on your schedule for the day?"

He toyed with the handle of his coffee mug, keeping busy the fingers that itched to yank her down onto his lap. "Repairs to the Jolly Roger. Sails need mending."

"Okay. I'll see you later then?" She started to turn away and then pivoted back. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she leaned down and pressed her mouth to his in a lingering kiss. He sucked in a breath before returning the slight, sweet pressure, aware without looking that they were drawing the attention of others. They parted and he looked up, meeting her grin with his own as she rose to her full height.

"That ought to do it," she mused, glancing around at their gaping audience. "Won't be long before the whole town knows about us."

"And that is acceptable to you?" His forehead furrowed with concern.

"Yeah." She reached out to toy with the earring dangling from his lobe. "I'm actually great with that."

His gaze roved over her face for a long moment and then, seemingly satisfied that she was telling the truth, he reached into his pocket and tossed a few bills onto the table before rising.

"Come then." He held out his hand for hers. "I'll walk you to your office."

xx

At the end of a long shift Emma had the fleeting thought that she would far prefer squaring off against some random monster-of-the-week than endure another day of the town's speculative looks. Reactions varied – from David's quiet "he better treat you right" to Ruby's salacious winking smile; from Neal's defeated and resigned nod to Leroy's sniffing disapproval.

Henry's initial disappointment that his parents' happily-ever-after would not be found with each other gave way to rapid acceptance – for more than anything else, he wanted Emma to be happy (and she imagined the idea that he might have ready access to a real pirate ship helped smooth the way.)

Locking up the station house behind her, she made her way toward the docks. The late afternoon sun had begun its final descent and was swimming in the sky in a blinding ball of red. Shielding her eyes with her hand she squinted upwards to find Killian three-quarters of the way up the foresail, clinging to the rigging by his hook.

"Are you almost finished?" she shouted, stepping onto the deck.

"Ahoy, Mistress Swan," he called. "By what right do you board a ship without first obtaining her captain's permission?"

She defiantly planted her fists on her hips and craned her head back in an attempt to see what he was working on. "The long arm of the law has an endless reach, buddy."

He grinned in response and she saw the white flash of his teeth against his dark beard.

"Are you coming down or are you gonna make me come up there after you, Hook?" She rubbed her eyes, blinking against the sunspots marring her vision.

"Aye," he called back. "I need but another moment or two."

Unable to stand watching him swing about without a safety harness, she contented herself with poking around the main deck, lifting covers from various barrels to peer inside and studying an intricate series of knots tied onto a length of rope coiled and hanging from a hook on one of the mast posts. At last she heard movement from above and looked up to see Killian tuck his tools into a leather pouch slung across his chest before he nimbly scrambled down the rigging.

He landed on the deck, his boots thudding lightly on the wooden planks and she realized that the sun's glare had prevented her from noticing that he was bare-chested. In apparent deference to the unusual warmth of the early fall sun, he had stripped off and tucked the black linen shirt into the back waistband of his pants and his face and torso glistened with a light sheen of sweat.

Tugging the leather pouch over his head, he deftly unfastened a water skin which had been lashed to its strap with a narrow length of rope. Tipping his head back, he took a long drink of water and Emma found herself hypnotically watching the strong workings of his throat as he drank deeply. He tugged his shirt free and swiped it over his damp chest and arms and she bit her lip to stifle a groan. She swore she felt her womb leap to life and begin gleefully dancing about, begging for his prompt attention.

"Ahhh… Swan? Swan?"

The insistent sound of his voice calling her name finally penetrated the fog of lust and she dragged her unfocused gaze from his bare abdomen to his face to find him peering at her over the top of the balled-up shirt in his hand.

"Is it possible," he asked as he carelessly swiped the dark material under his arms (and damn, she thought, how could that possibly be sexy?) "that the expression on your face at this moment is reflective of the one your mother claims to have previously seen on mine?" He absently tugged the shirt on, leaving it unfastened and somehow the sight of that rumpled shirt hanging loosely on him was even more mouth-watering than when he was uncovered.

She cocked her head to one side, considering. "I think… maybe…"

Who was she kidding? She absolutely wanted to gobble him up. Right. Now.

"Yeah," she told him, her head bobbing up and down emphatically. "Definitely."

Stepping up to him, she curled her fingertips into the damp hair on his chest. "Let's go below deck." She caught his lower lip between her teeth, gave it a gentle nip and felt her pulse leap when he hastened to follow her.

The door to his cabin crashed into the wall behind it; their combined weight propelling it open. For a man with an obvious impairment, he seemed to have half a dozen limbs, she thought hazily, as his fingers tunneled under her hair, skimmed over her throat, cupped her breast.

Clamping her hands over his ears, she tugged her mouth free from his. "Clothes. Off. Now." The words stuttered from between her lips when his mouth found the hammering pulse in her throat. Planting her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him away and toed off her shoes. Tugging her t-shirt over her head, she tossed it to the floor and unfastened her jeans, shoving the heavy denim and the fragile lace of her panties down her legs in one motion. Kicking free of her clothes, she shoved one hand through her hair and pushing the tumbled curls off her face, she looked up to find him still mostly clothed.

Transfixed by her hurried but delightful striptease, Killian had slipped out of his shirt but little more.

"Why are you still wearing so many clothes?" she complained. Propping her fists on her hips, she stomped one foot on the floor and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen dramatically and lock onto the sight of her breasts swaying gently within the confines of the lace bra which was the only article of her clothing remaining.

"Earth to Killian." She waved a hand in front of his face and he blinked, bringing her back into focus.

"I… uh… huh?"

She laughed at his inarticulate response.

"I said you're still dressed and I can't help but wonder why that is."

"And I cannot help but wonder why the haste," he replied, quickly recovering his wits.

She stared at him – the tousled hair; the leather straps crisscrossing his muscled forearm, securing brace and hook in place; the silver chain glimmering against his chest; the leather molding his hips and legs. He looked as though he had stepped off the cover of a romance novel she and another girl in the group home had read by flashlight one evening, giggling and gasping over the racy scenes.

She smiled. "I don't know. Maybe you just look extra pirate-y today."

"Pirate-y," he repeated with an answering grin.

"It's a word," she defended. "Now are you going to lose the clothes or do I have to do everything for you?"

He held his arms out to either side in submission and she curled her fingers into the waist of his pants, yanking him toward her. He unfastened his hook and set it aside, leaving the brace in place and his fingers ghosted over the curve of her breasts where they rose above the lacy cups of her bra before skimming down her back and over the twin curves of her ass. Her fingers fumbled with the leather laces of his pants, her concentration broken when he trailed one finger over the crease where her thigh met her hip and it seemed that rather than loosening the laces in her hands, she was knotting them even further.

She cursed under her breath – a muttered and creative litany of swear words.

"Darling," he breathed unsteadily against her temple. "I have been to sea with hardened sailors and even I am impressed by your inspired use of the language."

She ignored him and continued to work at the stubborn laces which were keeping her from her prize. His growing ardor beneath her fumbling hands seemed only to make it that much more difficult to accomplish her task.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," he offered smugly.

Blowing an errant curl off her face, her eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Give me your knife."

He clamped a defensive hand over the small dagger which rode in its sheath on his hip. "Why do you need a blade, love?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm just gonna use it to zip right through these damned laces." She made an enthusiastic slashing motion in front of his groin and he winced, taking a hurried step back.

"Hmm… ahh…" He took another step back. "Perhaps you should allow me to…" He kept a cautious eye on her as he went to work on the now hopelessly knotted laces.

"We are getting nowhere fast," Emma complained in exasperation and thrust out a demanding hand. "Just give me the knife."

"Yes, well…" He fought the urge to cup his hand protectively over his groin. "You see, love, I am… ahh… concerned that in your enthusiasm you might…" He waved a hand about in a wild gesture and she snorted out a laugh.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to chop off anything important." She watched the color drain from his face and muffled a giggle. "Especially not before I'm done with it. Now stop fooling around and give me the knife," she commanded.

"You know, lass, I cannot say that your assurances bring me much comfort." With great reluctance he handed the small dagger to her, cringing at the wide smile on her face as she grabbed the laces with one hand and the knife with the other.

"Carefully, love," he cautioned.

"Puh-leeze." She twirled the knife in a deliberately careless gesturing, grinning when he twitched. "I bet I could do it with my eyes closed," she bragged and another giggle escaped her at the choking sound he made. "But I won't." And carefully, as instructed, she sawed through the stubborn laces.

"There!" She triumphantly held the ruined strips of leather aloft. "Finally! Now get to it." She flicked a hand toward his remaining clothing, every inch of her the demanding princess.

He bent forward to push his pants down his legs and she stretched her arms behind her back, popping open the clasp of her bra and skimming the straps over and off her arms. Tossing it aside, she wrapped her arms around his waist and flopped backwards onto the bed.

"Swan! I am not yet – Oomph!" His legs tangled in his pants, he lost his balance and toppled onto her, pushing the breath from her lungs in a startled whoosh of air.

"I had not yet removed my boots," he informed her as he strained for some semblance of dignity, and she craned her head, peering along their bodies to where his leather pants were bunched above his knees.

"Good enough for me!" she announced with a grin and wrapped her legs around his hips. Using her toes to push the constricting material below his knees, she wriggled a hand between them and guided him to her aching center. He rose above her on his elbows and stroked the damp hair away from her brow. It was a little bit awkward. A little bit ridiculous with his pants and boots hampering his movements, and a whole lot of fun. She laughed and the sound of it was so joyous, so infectious, he could not help but join her.

And they were still grinning at one another as he drove into her. Her hips arched beneath him, her body opening to accept the invasion of his, closing around him to hold him prisoner. The mood had changed from the need to sate a desperate hunger to one of quiet joy. Their bodies rocked together in a lazy bid for release and when it washed over them, their fingers were entwined and their lips met in a smiling kiss.

xx

She floated along on the slow ebb and flow that came with the aftermath of pure satisfaction, relishing his heavy weight pressing her into the rumpled bedclothes as he dozed contentedly in her embrace. Her fingers sifted through his hair and he murmured her name against her breast.

She didn't know what lay ahead for them. She was not naïve enough to believe that it would be smooth sailing – they were both too stubborn, too damaged for that. And God alone knew what crazy dangers were waiting for them around the corner but they would face whatever was to come together.

But she didn't want to think about that now. Not at this moment. No, she decided. She had earned the right – they had earned the right to be greedy and to hold this moment, this one perfect moment for themselves.

End