a small post-4x02 oneshot

-/-

She can barely remember the events of the day before, a rush of ice, are you okay?, and blankets appearing behind her eyelids. It's only when she feels what she's lying on shift does she begin to recall a few finer details.

And it turns out what she's lying on is a certain pirate.

His eyes are closed; eyebrows furrowed the slightest giving her the urge to smoothen the crinkled skin out. (She remembers the urgency in his voice as he yells Emma! and can only imagine the concern and worry etched onto his handsome face, kind of like this, only multiplied – by a thousand) She does try to reach for him but is blocked by the multiple layers of blankets that have been wrapped around her.

She notices they're on the couch instead of her bed, and memories of the night before and her evident stubbornness of not needing help getting to her room plays in her head, only to have Killian huff at her before scooping her up and placing her gingerly on the couch, mumbling something along the lines of 'If you won't let me carry you to bed, then you're bloody sleeping on the couch.'

He stirs at the small movement, and when his bright blue eyes open to hers of olive, his lips tilt upward into a soft smile. She wriggles her arms out of her cotton barriers unceremoniously, causing an amused chuckle to escape from his lips. When she's finally free, her hand moves up to thumb his lip, and just like everything else with them, he takes her lead, waiting for her to lean in before he does.

(She appreciates that he lets her decide where they stand, but sometimes she just wishes he'd make the first move and just kiss her)

She presses her lips softly against his, drawing back to see him grinning even wider.

"Morning," she murmurs, her lips just a breath away from his.

"Morning, love."

She feels something shift beneath her, and only then realizes she's been sleeping on his arm the entire night. "Shit, sorry," she grimaces at the numbness he'd probably be feeling.

She lifts her body up the slightest, allowing him to slide his arm from underneath her, and he does, only to move his hand to thumb her bottom lip in return.

"Good to see the two of you awake."

He jumps out from the moment and straight onto his feet at the voice of her mother. She musters the energy to sit up, peeking over the back of their makeshift bed to find her mother distributing the scrambled eggs from the frying pan onto the various plates set on the table. Her father sits at the head of it, her younger brother in one arm and a bottle in the other.

"Breakfast is ready."

She turns to face Killian, and there's a sudden awkwardness there. She notices him shuffling nervously on his feet, his hand moving subconsciously to scratch the part behind his ear in a gesture she's grown fond of.

"You feeling better, lass?" he asks her genuinely and she nods. He seems content with her answer. "Well, I've overstayed my welcome, and I wouldn't wish to intrude further, so I'll be off," he announces. "Say the word, and I'll be right back here," he turns back to Emma, giving her a slight nod before moving to turn towards the door.

"Wait! You can stay!" both her and her mother say at the same time, and she looks over at her with squinting eyes.

Her father's the one to speak up for her. "Stay for breakfast – after all you've done for us and Emma, the least we could do is offer you some food." She watches as her father bows his head down the slightest in a show of understanding, and she's shocked to say the least. Who knew a pirate and a prince could be mates?

(Then again, who'd think the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, and a pirate would fall- like each other either?)

With a glance in Emma's direction, her giving him a hopeful look, he agrees, though waits for her to unravel herself from the layers of warmth and as usual, for her to lead the way towards the table.

He settles slowly to her left, and she can't help her hand that moves to find his under the table. He glances at her, raising an eyebrow in question, and she murmurs a 'my hand's are still cold' as an excuse, but he doesn't complain, simply smirking softly at her. It's not his usual innuendo-filled smirk, instead, it's soft and almost sweet.

She lets go of his hand reluctantly when they begin to eat, and she finds it adorable how he's adapted some forms of modern technology, yet still has a confused look on his face when poking his fork at his bacon.

"It's good, trust me," she leans towards him and whispers the words.

And that's all he needs for him to try it.

Her and both her parents look at him expectantly, gauging for his reaction as he chews on it.

"This tastes bloody unhealthy!" he exclaims, and the rest of them try to hide their smiles. "But it's bloody delicious at the same time."

He gives her a toothy grin, and she replies by shoving a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

His hand finds hers again while he chews, and maybe he's right after all, she could get used to appreciating the quiet moments.

-/-