There were many squeal-inducing moments in this episode for CS fans, and I wanted to explore them. I tried to keep this as canon compliant as possible, and until the next episode airs, it technically is, even if I don't think this conversation will have actually happened in offscreen‒ville. Feedback brings me almost as much joy as CS does.

I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters. All rights belong to ABC.

As Killian places a box on the kitchen floor, Emma places a mug on the island. At the sound of ceramic sliding across granite, he looks over and says with a smile,

"That should be the last of the boxes for now. Just my clothes and basic necessities… I don't want to leave Belle with a bare ship."

"We can unpack later," she responds quietly, forearms on the countertop and leaning forward. Killian takes a seat across from her and wraps his hand around the red mug.

"We have time," he agrees with a nod. At that, she looks down and wrings her hands together. "Emma," he says softly and she lifts her eyes, meeting his for a brief moment before returning to her previous position. "I know there's something you're not telling me, and that's okay if you're not ready. As you said to me about my past with Ariel and Ursula, lying to me isn't okay. So if you don't want to tell me yet, that's fine, but don't lie. I'll respect your wishes if you don't want to talk about whatever's bothering you, you know that." He lets go of his mug to reach out and grasp one of her hands. She squeezes and offers him a tight smile.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, struggling to hold his gaze. "I'm just… a lot has happened in the past few years, and I think it's all starting to catch up to me."

It isn't a lie. He nods in understanding, rubbing circles on the top of her hand with his thumb.

"You were great today," Killian says, eyes shining with pride. Her lips quirk up a bit as she ducks her head ‒something she does whenever someone compliments her‒ causing him to grin. For someone who could easily take someone twice her size out, Killian finds her awfully adorable.

"So were you," she finally replies, looking equally as proud of him as he is of her. "With Alexandra… you were a natural."

"What can I say, I'm charming and everyone of all ages loves me," he says with that shit eating grin that makes her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. She bites her lip in amusement for a moment before saying,

"Better not let my mom here you say that. She's a little possessive of that particular adjective. Besides," she cocks her head to the side, mischief lighting up her features, "I prefer dashing rapscallion."

"Well, whatever makes the lady happy we will go with."

They look at each other for a few moments, and Emma ultimately ends it when she goes to the cupboard to retrieve a mug for herself. Killian watches as she goes about making another serving of hot chocolate ‒she pours the still steaming water from the teapot into her own blue mug, then adds the Swiss Miss packets (to only add one would be a sin, she once told him), and finally a splash of milk.

"Can I ask you a question?" She resumes her place back at the island, fidgeting with the mug a little. He realizes they're about to have a fairly personal conversation.

"Technically you just did," he jokes to ease her worry, and she smiles in appreciation.

"Fair enough."

"Of course, love. What do you want to know?"

She takes a breath, then blurts, "Did you ever want kids? When you were with Milah, I mean? Was it ever something you thought about?"

He's a bit surprised but manages to conceal it. He certainly doesn't want to scare her off by giving her the false impression that he's upset.

"Aye," he answers eventually, face darkening somewhat as memories flood his brain. "I thought about it. It was something I knew could be a possibility given the fact that the Enchanted Forest didn't have those little pills you take. I wasn't opposed to the idea, but Milah was. She always wanted to go back for Bae, but…" he trails off, swallowing hard, and she reaches out to take his hand in hers. "The Crocodile found us before Bae was old enough." She can only smile apologetically at him, knowing there are no words that can take the sting of injustice away. "He was on the Jolly with me for a short while, as you know. I quite enjoyed his company. He was intelligent and eager to learn."

"And you liked teaching him," Emma surmised softly.

"Aye," he nods sadly. "Henry is a lot like Bae was at that age. He would be proud of the young man the lad is becoming. You should be as well."

"I am," the blonde smiles, heart swelling at the mention of the teenager. "And I just want to thank you… it was hard for him, losing Neal. He'd barely gotten to know him, and to lose his father like that‒" she breaks off, forces the lump that's formed in her throat back down. "My dad is, well, he's not your typical grandpa." At that, they both chuckle, thinking of the lack of an age difference between Emma and her parents. "And he was great with Henry while mom and I were in the Enchanted Forest right after the curse broke, but a grandfather isn't a father. Neal will always be Henry's father, but you are a huge part of his life and you will continue to be a huge part of his life. I can't think of a better man I would want my son to… I don't know… learn from? God, this sounded so much better in my head," she groans, pulling her hand back so she can lean forward across the counter and bury her head in her arms.

With a smirk, he carefully moves Emma's pony tail from the rim of his mug before it falls into his hot chocolate.

"I can feel you smirking at me," she says, voice muffled by her arms.

"I'm not smirking at you, I'm smirking with you," he answers without bothering to keep the amusement out of his voice. She picks her head up and glares as best she can with a smile playing at her lips.

"That… doesn't work. That only works if you're laughing."

"Alright, so I'm smirking at you," he concedes. "You're cute, I can't help it."

"I'm not cute," she groans again, head falling forward onto the counter again.

"Well, I was going to say adorable but‒"

"Uuummmpphh."

"You're especially adorable when you're sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table with your fruit loops or coco puffs and Snow is grumbling about nutrition and proper etiquette and David is trying not to laugh for fear of the princess's wrath."

"Lazy Sunday mornings at mom and dad's are the best," she says, propping her head in her hands so she can at least hold a conversation with him rather than mumbling something unintelligible. "We could have that. You, me, Henry… maybe a baby, too."

"You've thought about kids?" Killian asks. She shrugs self-consciously.

"I have memories of raising Henry. When I was in jail pregnant with him, I umm… I thought a lot about what I was going to do. I was so hesitant to put him into a position where he could've ended up with the life I did. Once I knew they could have a family lined up and he wouldn't end up in foster care, I knew I couldn't keep him. There was no way I could give him a stable home and provide for him. I loved him, I wanted him, but… I had to do what was best for him. Even if I could've provided for him, I wouldn't know the first thing about what to do. I'd know what not to do, but…" she trails off, shrugging again. "I don't know. I would love the opportunity to maybe keep a child from going through what I did in the system or help someone in the same position I was to know that her baby would be going to a good, stable, loving home."

"That would be nice," he agrees.

"Seeing you with Alexandra today, it… I don't know… it made me really happy. You are so sweet and so kind and so loving. It just made me think of the future ‒the future I was fighting so hard for in Camelot."

"We can have it," Killian says with confidence. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, Emma, we can work through it and we can have our happy ending and our future. We can have as many little rugrats as we want."

"Yeah," she sighs, a distant and distracted look once again coming over her.

"But, perhaps we should start with unpacking my belongings. We don't need to think about the future future right now."

"Yeah," she says again, nodding. "Let's unpack." As she moves over to one of the numerous boxes scattered throughout the kitchen, she pushes the fear to the back of her mind and decides that maybe she just won't ever wear a black tank top again.

A prophecy's a prophecy, but she also knows that nothing involving magic and fairytales is ever quite what it seems. If she can fight to save everyone else's happy endings, who's to say the savior can't fight for her own?