"What the hell was that supposed to mean?"

Killian is right on her heels as she exits the shop and turns in the direction of the apartment. All they've been handed is a whole bunch of riddles and coded messages, as far as she's concerned. She's frustrated beyond measure at this point. It's getting harder by the day to keep all the threads of her life in place, and she can't do that if she's frazzled, and feeling things, and –

The second Killian's hand grasps hers, she slows and eventually stops. Her mind is still racing, but the way he's gently rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand has her calm in record time. There's no creepy sensation crawling up her back, Henry isn't there for the show, but still she fits herself against Killian, her temple resting against his jaw as his arms wind around her in comfort.

She lets herself have this moment, barely even registering the reason why it might be strange to turn her face and let her lips brush against his jaw. It's not like she inherently means to make the connection – she just does.

"Emma?" He says her name so quietly, with so many questions behind those two little syllables, that she knows without looking what his expression will be.

This could be the turning point, she thinks. If I turn a little more, if I kiss him now – but she stops herself from finishing the thought. If she kisses him now, it'll be for the wrong reasons. And now, Emma wants to kiss him for the right reasons. She drops her forehead back down to his shoulder, exhaling an apology as she does, and closing her eyes against the overwhelming sensations weighing down on her.

"Let's get you home, love. I'll make us lunch."

Months of burying her frustration with knowing-yet-not-knowing finally make their way to the surface as they walk back to the apartment. She stays quiet during the return trip, something that Killian obviously notices but doesn't comment on. Instead, he leads her through the door and takes her coat, telling her to make herself comfortable while he puts their food together.

"You seem vexed, Swan."

"Just frustrated," she admits as she pokes at the vegetables he's steamed up for them. She was right, he is the health nut in this household.

Just the thought of their home makes her brows scrunch together. It seems like they've done everything they could to get back to Storybrooke, but they're still missing the mark. For the first time, Emma wants to admit that she misses it, that she misses her parents, but the words stick in her throat.

There was a moment, actually it was several moments, after she took the memory potion that all she wanted was to have that ignorance back. She didn't want to remember the time she spent in Storybrooke. She didn't want to remember the time she didn't have Henry in her life. It was easier to pretend that she hadn't seen Neal since the day he left her to take the fall for the watches.

With Killian in her life, she's at least not alone. There's someone else to remember the stuff that she's been through, to be some kind of witness to the obstacles she's hurdled over that go beyond just hard-working. But she knows that there's a family who misses her, and misses Henry, and that's what sits like lead in her stomach.

Home, she remembers Neal telling her once, is a place that when you leave it, you miss it. That you can't shake that feeling. While she's not overjoyed with the thought of figuring out three-split custody with the evil queen and the son of Rumpelstiltskin, Emma also knows that Henry deserves a chance to see his family again. Whether or not he'll remember them when they get there is still yet to be seen.

"-course, if you're not listening to a word a say, then we've got quite the dilemma on our hands."

"What?" She finally clears her vision and looks over at Killian, whose plate is clean and is clearly exasperated but still smirking at her.

"'Bout time my words got through that thick fog of thought you were in," he says, sliding off his chair and walking around the island to rinse his dish off. "Do you want me to reheat that, or would you like to wait until you're hungry again?"

"It's fine," she waves him off, realizing that her stomach is completely empty and the food in front of her may have cooled a bit, but she's learned that anything Killian makes is going to taste amazing hot or cold. "So, what do you think that all meant?"

"What the Dragon spoke of? Hard to say. But it's clear that we need to have some measure of patience waiting for this magical talisman to make itself known to us." He leans against the counter behind him, scratching behind his ear as speaks.

Emma grumbles around a mouthful of food, finally spearing the last carrot on her plate and pushing the dish over to Killian as he holds out his hand for it.

"Listen, Swan, I know how difficult this must be. But there are things beyond our powers working against us, currently. We just need to keep looking for whatever it was he was talking about. We'll find it, love, I know we will."

"A hope speech from Captain Hook? Now I've heard everything."

"Ha ha," he deadpans, lightly flicking the water from his fingertips in her direction and smiling as she squawks and ducks away from it.

Two days later, she calls and tells Killian that she'll be later than normal, that she has some extra paperwork to take care of. He assures her that he'll hold down the fort while she's gone (his words, not hers) and she heads out into the city to find him a gift. Henry is already taken care of, but that probably has something to do with the detailed list he left stuck to the fridge a few weeks ago.

Thankfully, her search doesn't last long. It takes three stores for her to find exactly what she's looking for, and she can't help the satisfied smile that spreads across her face as the cashier hands her a receipt and her box.

It takes a certain skill to get Killian out of the apartment, with Henry in tow, on a mission to get dinner just long enough for her to sneak in and hide the gift. She takes an extra minute to pull it from the packaging, inspecting what has to be the manliest looking jewelry box she's ever seen in her life. And knowing a pirate, she delights when she finds the hidden switch on the side to open a hidden compartment. It's large enough to hide his hook, and she is so very tempted to see if she can find it among his things to stash it now.

The second she touches his leather coat, however, she decides against it. Instead, she brushes her fingers along the details. She lingers a little longer on the lapels, remembering how it felt to grip them in Neverland. The memory is a sudden rush of heat along her cheekbones, the sensation of his hair between her fingers, the way his mouth fit perfectly against hers. She hums low in consideration, pushing everything back in front of the coat.

She manages to hide the jewelry box in the linen closet, and she's nonchalantly reading on the couch by the time her boys walk back through the door.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, they get no closer to figuring out just what the Dragon meant. Nothing makes itself apparent, and despite how much she tries to will Storybrooke into existence in front of her, it doesn't work. Nothing glows, nothing whooshes like it did after she admitted she loved Henry, nothing floats ahead of her to lead the way back to Storybrooke. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

She resigns herself to the fact that it's not going to happen before the holidays, especially when it's Christmas Eve and she's struggling to wrap Killian's present before he gets home from the bookstore. Henry, unhelpfully, is sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen table eating cookies and giving her running commentary on her wrapping technique. He'll be asleep when she wraps his later – a fact that she is extremely grateful for.

"What about your skills, kid? You want me to critique your wrapping skills when I open my gift?"

"I'm twelve, mom," he tells her. "I'm supposed to be bad at it."

"Mmhmm, sure."

Thankfully, he gets bored and wanders over to play video games shortly after, leaving Emma to finish her job in peace. There's something quaintly sentimental about signing her name to the tag and sticking it beneath the bow. She's already anxious for him to open it, already excited to give a pirate a new treasure chest.

Killian does his best to assist her in wrapping Henry's gifts from both of them.

"I'll admit, Swan, Mrs. Charles wrapped mine for me. It was either that or gift bags, and Henry insisted that I wasn't permitted to take the easy way out with those."

She smiles, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes as she shakes her head a little. "Of course, he would. Are we going to have to take this couple with us when we go? I feel like we accidentally adopted a set of grandparents."

"At least they're a fair bit more fitting to the part than your parents, Swan. Tell me again how you came to live with your mother before the curse broke," he prods. It's not the first time he's prompted her to talk about her parents, or her past in general. She knows there's still skeletons all over both their closets, but she easily regales him with the story of Mary Margaret offering her a home.

She goes to sleep thinking that momentum is such a funny thing, thinking about how the next morning will immediately tumble into the New Year, and wondering how many other holidays they'll be in New York City to experience. But first comes this one, and she's sure Henry will be waking them up far too early in his excitement. Her eyes finally drift shut as her mind settles down, with Killian's breathing slow and even beside her.

Emma wakes up tucked against Killian, his hand resting high on her abdomen and his face buried somewhere against the back of her neck. Every time he exhales, it sends a shiver down her spine, and she's willing to admit that she doesn't want to move from this spot for a couple more hours. Unfortunately, she can hear Henry in the second bathroom and she knows this moment is extremely limited.

Sure enough, there's frantic knocking on the door less than a minute later, and Killian stirs behind her, mumbling an apology against the sensitive skin his lips are touching. She just barely stops herself from moaning, and she wonders how much longer she can resist her own emotions for this man, along with her undeniable attraction to him. While her thoughts are running rampant, she waves off the apology and wishes him a Merry Christmas.

They don't even touch gifts until they've eaten breakfast (a group effort) and Emma's had two cups of coffee. They let Henry go first, since he's far more eager than either of the adults and because Emma wants the chance to sit back and watch him enjoy this experience. Christmas was never something she enjoyed growing up, but the memories Regina gave her for the first ten Christmases with Henry were always something quiet and good, so of course she kept the traditions when they moved here.

Now, pressed against Killian's side as she sips her coffee, this memory will definitely rank high against the real memories she has of holiday after holiday spent alone. She jolts when Henry exclaims his thanks, and she just barely manages to set her coffee down on the table in front of her before her son, all lanky twelve feet of him it seems, throws himself at her for a hug. One of his arms is thrown around Killian in joint-thanks for the gifts he bought, and she might always remember the look of stunned affection he has as he carefully puts his arm around Henry.

"You guys are the best!" he says, one last time, as if the first twenty times he said it weren't adequate. He's happy to settle down next to their small, artificial tree after that, urging Emma to tear into the hastily wrapped box in front of her.

Henry's hard-earned allowance (he got an extra ten dollar bonus for a streak of zero dead houseplants) has gone to a new beanie and gloves for her, soft to the touch, and she's relieved when she sees the tag that they aren't real cashmere because she would've subtly paid her son back for something so extravagant. She slides the hat on immediately, covering her poorly tamed bed-head, and sets the gloves to the side in favor of picking up the delicately wrapped boxes from Killian.

"To my Swan," the tag reads, and she bites her lip to stop from smiling much wider than she already is. Neither box is particularly big – in fact, they're both rather small – but she goes for the top and smaller one first. Nestled inside is a keychain, no bigger than her thumb, in the shape of Snow White. She laughs, first, to match the image of what's in her hand with the woman who shot an ogre in the eye with a bow and arrow to save her.

She's not expecting the rush of emotion that follows that thought, however. Suddenly, her eyes are misting over and she can feel her lips trembling, and she closes her eyes as she closes her fingers around it.

"Swan," Killian says quietly, the worry clear in his voice, so she leans into him, leans into the arm that tightens around her.

"I love it," she finally manages to say, her voice still thick with emotion but at least she managed to hold back the tears. "It's adorable."

"I didn't realize you liked Snow White so much, mom."

"She has a special place in my heart," Emma says. That's definitely not a lie, since her mother certainly does rest easily in her heart at all times now. She sets the keychain aside until she can loop her onto her keys and starts tearing into the wrapping paper on the longer box. Simply from being a woman, she's willing to bet it's jewelry, but she has no idea what Killian would find based on what he's seen her wear before.

Her breath catches as she lifts the lid to find the gift inside. The delicate needle of the compass shifts as she carefully picks up the main pendant, and her fingers encounter the engraving on the other side before she has a chance to flip it over. She's not entirely surprised to see the stars on the back, but she is pleased that it's more than just a swan drawn there. The Cygnus constellation has always been a favorite of hers.

"It's perfect," she says on a sigh, turning it over and over to admire both sides. Leave it to a sailor to find something so wonderful. There are so many other things she could say about it, including but not limited to jokes about Lake Nostos, how the last time he gave her a compass she left him chained at the top of a beanstalk, something about jabbing and swords, but she just repeats how perfect it is before leaning over and giving him a lingering kiss on the cheek.

"I'm glad you like it, love. Now, I think it's my turn," he says with a wink.

He grabs for the gift from Henry first, and no surprise, it's a nice hat and pair of gloves, and a scarf as well. It's not that Killian has refused to add the proper winterwear to his wardrobe, it's just that he never seems to stray far from the one pair of leather gloves he already had. Emma wastes no time in snagging the hat and sliding it over his matching bed hair.

"Thank you, lad. Maybe I'll be a little less averse to the weather when I leave the building in these." They share a smile, and Emma looks between the two of them for a moment with a sudden panging realization. She loves them both. She loves her son, god does she love Henry – cannot imagine what her life would be if he hadn't shown up on her doorstep that day. And not only him, she loves Killian. She is in love with Captain Hook.

That momentum she fell asleep thinking about feels a whole lot more real in the face of this realization. It was only a matter of time before her feelings matched his, and now it's happened. And it's not because of the beautiful necklace that she decides needs to be around her neck now, and it's not because he's devoted his time and energy to keeping her and Henry safe. It's all the little moments that they've spent together between now and the moment she got her memories back, and even before then.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Killian tosses the crumpled wrapping paper into the trash bag Henry is holding open for him, and then he's reaching for the box with Emma's somewhat-adequate wrapping job. She has just a moment of nerves as he opens it, and then the smile is giving away his appreciation as he lifts the wooden box from its packaging.

"Figured it was time for you to have a modern-day treasure chest," Emma tells him as she slips the wrapping paper away and throws it to Henry.

"It's brilliant, Swan. I love it!" He spends a few more minutes poking around the outside of it, and it's obvious he's aware that there's more than meets the eye but can't figure out how to access the secret. He must sense her watching him because he looks up with the question clear in his eyes, but she takes a page out of his book and winks at him, standing up to collect her gifts and start tidying up. She'll make him wait a little longer to complete the puzzle.

They make lazy lunch after the living room has been mostly cleared out, leaving the Christmas movie marathons to play on TV while they graze on a spread of brunch items and leftovers from breakfast. The rest of the day follows that same pace, with dinner acting as a third, relaxed meal. Henry falls asleep not more than an hour after the kitchen is cleaned from dinner, and she and Killian work together to put him to bed. When he's all tucked in and the light is out, Emma detours into the bedroom and tells Killian to find his hook.

"There's a secret compartment," she explains when he's retrieved it from the depths of the closet. She waits until she has his full attention, then finds the hidden switch to pop the drawer open. He stifles his exclamation but doesn't hold back the smile that lights up his face.

Just as she guessed, the hook fits perfectly inside, with a little extra room for anything else he'd like to hide. She closes it back up once he's slipped the heavy metal appendage inside and guides him through opening it again. Satisfied that he can open and close it on his own, he seals the hidden drawer again and slides the box into place on the dresser. It looks like it was made to fit in with her items.

She falls asleep on the couch with her head resting on Killian's chest. The lights on the tree blur together until her eyes fall closed, and she sends a silent wish that when they get back to Storybrooke that their next Christmas can feel this perfect.

-x-

Emma falls asleep moments before he does, but Killian wakes up just a short bit later with the realization that they should move to the bed for a restful night sleep. When Emma fails to make more than a mumbled reply in her sleep, he takes it upon himself to get them there. Spending another minute making sure he's just awake enough to get the job done, he shifts from under Emma's hold and turns to pick her up. It's still not as easy as it would be with two hands, but at least he's less concerned with the possibility of catching her with his hook this way.

She's already in her pajamas, so he sets her on the bed before going back out to turn off the last of the lights and shut the door before he goes to ready himself for bed. He's no sooner slipping in under the covers beside Emma than she rolls into him, settling immediately back into slumber when they're both cocooned under the warm blankets.

Tonight's sleeping attire is warmer, with a flannel shirt keeping her modesty, and he's thankful. Once or twice he's woken in the mornings to find her exposed from the camisoles she sleeps in, and has quickly averted his gaze while tugging the blankets over her. Were they a real couple, he would gladly take the opportunity to look his fill, but even if Emma seems to be leaning a little more towards something true he still protects her modesty above all else.

His hand trails along the soft material covering her bicep as he thinks about the tag she wrote out. Her simple signature of "Love, Emma" is still clear even when he closes his eyes. He thinks of her reactions to her gifts, the unshed tears in her eyes when she looked upon the caricature of her mother, and the adoration as she clasped the necklace around her neck. He watched that compass sway like a pendulum when she stood to gather the rubbish around the living room, and felt his heart warm at how much she seemed to love both items.

And Henry, well, the lad's reaction to the gifts – the exact ones he asked for – was so overwhelming that he was nearly speechless. He's discovered that somewhere along the last couple months that he has genuine love in his heart for the boy. He is not Henry's father, but he sincerely hopes that he's earned a spot as more than just his mother's partner. There's the added complication of Henry changing his mind once his memories are back, but he does hope the boy will appreciate what they've done to keep him safe.

He falls asleep to Emma's warmth surrounding him, and wakes up in a rush towards the new year. After their shared Christmas, Emma is demonstrably more affectionate with him, whether Henry is around or not. Their nights are split between soft conversation over card games and comfortable silence during television programming.

Emma informs him that the biggest party on the east coast happens in the city, but threatens his manhood if he wishes to see it first-hand like they did for Thanksgiving.

"I assure you, Swan, I'm very content in life experiences for the moment. And you said this ball that will drop is visible from the rooftop, aye?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's not going to be as big as real life, but we'll be able to watch it drop and see the fireworks from here. That's good enough, right?"

A single nod seals the deal and they join the festivities up on the patio as the tenants all join together.

"There's another tradition," Emma tells him as they stand on the outskirts of a cluster of the building's children. "When the clock strikes twelve, everyone kisses to ring in the new year. It's a whole big celebration, and we'll be expected to."

"I read up on the holiday a while back when learning about Christmas. As long as you're okay with kissing me, love, then I would be a fool of a man to turn down an opportunity."

They're both outfitted in their warm weather gear that Henry got them, and he idly notices that they match. He also notices that Emma's gaze is fixated on his lips, and he fights the smug smile that wants to appear. "At least wait until midnight, Emma. It wouldn't do to be the inappropriate adults of the group and start the neighbors all talking."

She scoffs, but laughs and bumps him with her shoulder while agreeing with him.

The kids present at midnight get plastic cups of sparkling grape juice, while the adults drink reasonable amounts of champagne, and Killian watches in fascination as the sphere in the distance drops down and the group all starts buzzing with anticipation.

"Killian?"

"Hmm?" She's standing tall and looks just the tiniest bit nervous as she turns to face him. They're in the last minute of the year, and he's very serious in the face of what could be bad news.

"When the countdown ends, I'm going to kiss you."

He narrows his eyes at her, not comprehending. "So we've just discussed, Swan."

"No, Killian. I'm going to kiss you. For real. For all the right reasons. So uh, it's not pretend anymore."

Realization dawns at the same time the countdown begins, and he is only vaguely aware of the chanting of numbers. Henry is still in his periphery, but Killian is thankful that they're amongst all the others tonight so this moment can happen without a threat of immediate danger.

"Happy New Year," Emma murmurs as the cheering begins all around them. The city seems to rejoice all at once. He doesn't get a chance to respond before her lips are on his, and Emma Swan is fully in his arms.

Of all the times he's kissed her, this is by far the best. The first kiss was raw and a struggle to overpower the other. He was a fool, then, thinking that he could ever be more dominant than Emma, but he's less of a fool at this moment as he gives her this kiss. He thinks to protest when she pulls away much sooner than he wants her to, but he's brought back to the reality that they are surrounded by the building residents that wanted to celebrate this night.

His eyes finally focus on her smile, then the fireworks going off in the distance. They stand and watch, accepting the appropriate salutations from Henry when he finally remembers they're there. He quickly goes back to enjoying his extended curfew, and even pushes for more just a moment later by asking to spend the night with a family that lives on the second floor. Their twin boys wish to have Henry stay the night and Emma happily agrees as she slips her hand into Killian's.

The younglings all disappear shortly after the last of the fireworks dissipate from the night sky, leaving just the adults unwilling to start the new year by sleeping. Instead, the lighthearted party continues.

After that kiss, it's like the world entirely changes but doesn't change at all. Killian's at a loss for what sensations he feels as the party continues. He knows one thing for certain: Emma is leaning with her back against his chest, softly swaying and humming to the music that someone is playing from a stereo as her hands rest on the arms he's wrapped around her waist. When she leans her head back on his shoulder, he turns and presses a kiss to her temple, lingering down her cheek until he reaches a spot just below her ear. She loses the tune after that, humming instead in appreciation before turning her face back to his.

There's some part of him that recognizes that what they're doing is what Emma once called "tongue kissing" and they're not alone, but a quick break from the kiss reveals that none of the adults left at the party seem to notice or mind, and others are in much the same state as they are.

When the festivities end, they've spent hardly a minute without contact, and he only wishes to retire to their home so that he might kiss her a little longer, to record the taste and shape of her mouth to memory. Were that to be the end of his night, hell, the end of his life, he'd likely be okay with that.

Alone in the apartment, however, there's a moment of hesitation. Killian turns off the lights on their tree, which Emma informs him will get taken down in the next day or so, and she disappears briefly to make sure Henry remembered his pajamas. That's what she claims, however he's already changed into his sleep clothes and slid into the bed before she comes in. She shifts directly into the bathroom after that, changing and readying herself for sleep.

He's fidgeting with the edge of the blanket when she comes back out, and he knows that the hint of champagne that he tasted on her lips earlier will be replaced with that of her minty toothpaste. He suddenly itches for another kiss, but he waits to see if she'll make the move towards him or not. She could very well roll over and turn out the light with little more than a goodnight at this point and he would know it was her choice to do so.

She doesn't, though, instead sitting back against the headboard and mirroring his stance. He's wondering if he should say anything, but then her fingers ghost along his blunted wrist. While it's an area he no longer has much feeling, the faint sensation of her touch causes goosebumps along his arm. He looks down at her hand moving in a gentle caress before looking to her eyes, and he finds the smile on her lips reflected in her gaze. She leans over to kiss him again, and it's the first kiss since their first one in Neverland that doesn't have some sort of audience.

Easily, his fingers glide through her hair to settle on the back of her neck. The angle is slightly awkward, to be turned this way, and Emma must sense this or at least that's why he reasons she pushes the sheet and comforter out of the way before shifting to straddle his thighs.

His body reacts immediately, especially when Emma slides even closer, pressing against his half-hard cock. He moans, but the sound is lost and mingled with her own, a duet of arousal filling the air around them.

"I'm not just doing this because of the holidays or something," Emma rushes to say at the next break in their kiss. Her hips push forward, likely to alleviate some need for friction, but equally pleasurable for him. "I'm doing this because I want to, have wanted to, fuck I've wanted to but I've been too afraid and too focused on finding a way home. But now..." She presses forward for another kiss, finding his mouth eager and waiting.

He's no longer idle, sitting up to fully embrace her and pull her closer if even possible. Her arms go around his neck, one hand sliding into his hair. She takes advantage of his gasp of pleasure, taking complete control of the kiss as her tongue teases his lips. He wants to say how much better this is than their kiss in Neverland, but that would be stating the obvious. This is above and far beyond that moment, not solely because the duration of the experience is prolonged.

More than that reason, there is something to be said for not kissing in the heat of danger. There's been no provocation for this kiss other than their own willingness. He longs to explore more of the taste of her, but only at her pace, so he's surprised when Emma starts pushing up his shirt, urging him to release his hold on her to raise his arms over his head long enough for her to pull off the garment. Without asking, she copies the gesture, leaving her upper half bare to him.

Some part of his brain whispers finally and he not only looks, but reaches out to touch, as well. Her skin is just as soft as he imagined it would be, and he delights in the sounds she makes when his fingertips brush over the nipple of one breast, and then the other. Closing his mouth around one while his hand mimics the actions of his tongue around the other one produces a whole new set of noises, much swearing, and a pleasurable tug of the hair on the back of his head. She pulls again when he doesn't move, and even when he does it's only to switch to the other breast. It seems she can't complain about that, instead letting her head fall back in pleasure.

Of course, that exposes the long line of her neck to him, and he abandons his current quest to journey up to where he was exploring before they came inside. While he hopes for more breathy moans and whispers of his name, it's him instead that groans at her touch as one of her hands falls to the minimal space between them to grasp his cock through his flannel bottoms.

"Bloody hell," he gasps out before running his teeth along the silky skin of her shoulder. "Emma, darling, you'll need to stop that if you want this to last more than a mere minute. Allow me?"

"As you wish," she replies, her voice husky with want and her smile edging on dirty. It all comes back around to Neverland…

He maneuvers them both until she's flat on the bed, and he urges her to help him with the removal of her pajamas. He wastes no time after the bottoms have been discarded before he fits his mouth against her clit, using the tip of his tongue to flick back and forth over it as he listens to her directives. Faster, to the left, touch me, don't stop, Killian, please don't stop!

Every movement he makes is to her specifications, with a finger sliding into her with the same rhythm as he moves his mouth. He listens to the tone and pitch of her words, prolonging the impending climax as much as she'll allow before her hands grip his hair and hold him in place. The taste of a woman has always been pleasurable for him, but Emma tastes that much sweeter and he shows his appreciation by moaning against her. The gesture is obviously successful as she arches up into him, her request of 'do that again' immediately met with compliance.

By the time she comes, her heels are digging into the bed on either side of him as she pushes up into his touch. One hand abandons its hold in his hair in favor of massaging one breast, then sliding up to fist in her own hair. She tugs the strands on both their heads as she comes undone, her breathing ragged and Killian's name a mantra falling from her lips.

The tension drains out of her body as he pulls away, but she groans as she watches him wipe his mouth and chin. He takes just a moment to strip out of his own bottoms, tossing them off the side of the bed.

"No one," she says as she catches her breath, "should be that good at that."

Shifting back up her body, he settles between her legs with his cock pressed against her lower abdomen. He turns into the palm she presses against his cheek, gently biting at the pads of her fingertips as she brushes them past his mouth. "You don't mean that, love. I think you quite enjoyed that."

Instead of responding, she pulls him down for a kiss. She uses that to distract him while she shifts beneath him, running his hardened length between her folds and causing them both to gasp at the pleasure. He searches her eyes for any hesitation and only finds desire, and when Emma senses the question he's asking, she answers.

"I want you, Killian." She smiles and nods as he tilts his head in consideration. They move together after that, and they both hold their breath as his cock slides into the warmth of her body. She sighs when he's fully in, her eyes sliding shut as her hands rest on his lower back.

Killian takes a deep breath, but it expels in a quick, disjointed moan when Emma clenches her walls around his length. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to regain composure and not spend himself too quickly as she tightens around him, but it's a close call.

"Emma," he warns, and she bites her lip in response.

"Then move," she counters. He does, choosing that moment to pull his hips back to slide out of her until just the tip of him is left inside before he pushes forward in one smooth slide. Their twin moans mingle together, and what he means to be a kiss ends up being him burying his face against her neck as he thrusts into her. A moment later he pushes up to his wrist and hand in order to look at the whole picture, and it's glorious. Emma's eyes are closed, her mouth slightly agape as she gasps in pleasure. He takes that singular second to appreciate the expanse of curves and skin on display to him before he refocuses on their pleasure.

But she's the one that gains the upper hand, murmuring quick instructions to flip their positions so they're back where they began, with his back against the headboard and Emma in his lap, except this time her bare chest is pressed to his, her thighs trembling lightly as she moves up and down in his lap with her arms wrapped tight around him. She speeds up, chasing her release and urging him to come with her in quiet words before her teeth sink into the skin on his shoulder. She sucks at the bite, and he knows there will be a mark left behind.

It's the catalyst that starts the chain reaction for them both. With a few strokes around her clit, her climax begins, and when she pulses around his cock, it draws him over the edge after her. He can't see straight for a minute after the sensations subside, only able to trail his fingers up Emma's spine to cradle the back of her head. Her forehead is resting on his shoulder, her breath slowing and the aftershocks still making him shiver.

"Gimme a minute to clean up?" Emma asks as she finally lifts her head again. Her smile is radiant yet mellow, her body relaxed and fluid in her movements as she extracts herself from his grasp. He nods, taking a moment to comb his hair back with his hand as he slowly comes back down from that high. She leans in and kisses him, lingering to taste his lips again and again before finally turning and walking to the bathroom. He bites his lip as he watches her go, tilting his head to the side as her bare rear end disappears behind the bathroom door.

He'll wait until she's done to go clean himself up. One look down would surely reveal that he's a mess, so he lets his heartrate slow as he listens to Emma humming to herself through the closed door. Somewhere in his tired mind, he thinks of the conversations they've had about this world, especially when it comes to things like relationships and such, and Killian sits straight up with the realization that they were missing one vital piece of equipment. He hastens to the door, knocking quietly but urgently.

"Emma, didn't you once tell me that couples of this world use some form of contraceptive for intercourse? Didn't you tell me about condoms at that pharmacy that day? Emma, we didn't use a contraceptive and what -?"

The door opens mid-sentence to reveal Emma, still glowing and bare and smiling as she considers his slightly panicked state. "I have a diaphragm. We'll cover sex ed later, but that's why it took me so long to come to bed. I uh, had to find it." She shrugs, reaching up to brush her fingers over the mark she made. "I wasn't exactly getting laid very often before you showed up and I stored it in the other bathroom when you moved in." She gives him a kiss on the cheek before shifting out of the way. "Bathroom is all yours!"

The woman is a bloody marvel, no matter what the situation.

When he returns to the bed, Emma is snuggled back under the covers in her pajamas, and he slips his back on before climbing in with her.

"So, a diaphragm, whatever that is. Always learning something new."

"I didn't want to mention it in case we didn't, you know, and talking about shoving a little disk up into me isn't exactly sexy pillow talk."

"Darling, you could've read the dictionary to me and it still would've turned me on."

"You're ridiculous," Emma huffs out, but she still closes the gap to press a kiss to his lips.

"You said you weren't having much sex before, but you were with that other man long enough for him to propose." He doesn't directly ask the question, but leads her to answer if she wishes.

"We didn't – I mean, we did, but it wasn't often, or much, or good, and we would use condoms because he was really weird and I'm pretty sure if he could've worn five during a blowjob that he would've." The words all come out rushed and flustered, and Killian makes sure to pull her close and attempt to sooth the onslaught of words with a gentle rub of her back. "Sorry, didn't mean to go into that much detail."

"It's all right, love. Interesting to know. Now tell me about these blowjobs. I don't think we've covered that term yet."

She chuckles, low and sensually, and soon shows him exactly what the term refers to.

-x-

Emma doesn't fall asleep as easily as Killian once they finally settle down. It's nearing five in the morning but she can't get her mind to shut off. The decision to kiss him for real at midnight was anything but hastily planned. She's been thinking about it all week, and while she easily could've just given him one of their usual quick kisses, she's so thankful for taking the chance to tell him.

She wants to tell him she loves him, but can't, so she mouths the words against his t-shirt and vows to tell him soon. She adds that she misses her parents, and the loft, and even Granny's, knowing that she'll tell him all that much sooner. Back when Killian first showed up, she was adamant about not going back to Storybrooke. She figured they could solve whatever crisis and be back in New York in no time. Now, however, she knows she only could've stayed in the city if she'd never taken that memory potion. She does wonder, however, if the situation would've been different had they gotten right back into Storybrooke.

Would she and Killian be together? Would she have taken that chance? And if they didn't, would she still want to run from Storybrooke as soon as the trouble had passed? She's pretty sure she would've tried to leave them all behind, bring Henry back to the city in some false belief that it's safer. She would still be convinced that home is here instead of wherever she and Henry find the most love. With Killian, now, it's right here. But if she can get the three of them back to where they belong, it'll be with her parents, and Henry's other mother. And Neal, if he's back.

Oh god, what will they all think? The thought flits through her brain, but thankfully she's finally drifting off. She knows where her home is, both the physical and the emotional ones, and now it's just a matter of getting them all in the same place.

There's a marked difference waking up in Killian's arms on purpose compared to waking up in them on accident because her subconscious was trying to shout at her. She can't tell how long he's been awake, only that his hand is drawing idle pictures on her belly. He's also hard against her ass, but seems so completely content in his current actions that she wonders if she can talk him into breakfast first before they go again. By her calculations, they have a few hours before Henry will stumble back home and she wouldn't mind going for another round before that.

With anyone other than Killian, she's pretty sure she would feel weird talking about birth control options over breakfast. He gets a full explanation of what she used last night, and the other option of condoms which she's decided to teach him about after breakfast.

Somehow, they still manage to get cleaned up and presentable long before Henry comes home. They spend the first day of their new year taking down the Christmas decorations. Emma makes a mental note to make sure they get packed for the journey back to Storybrooke when they get back in. She wants all of this available for next year so they can hold onto these memories.

When they're back in bed that night, they remain chastely aware of Henry in the next room and manage to control themselves. It helps that Emma finally opens up about missing her parents.

"I miss the loft," she tells him, her words quiet in the dark room. "My bed upstairs was small but there was something so oddly comforting about having Henry next to me and my parents downstairs."

"Will you go back to living with them when we return?"

It's the first time since he haltingly explained that he would never be faking his emotions with Emma that Killian sounds unsure of himself. They've lived together for a little over two months, and if they go back, this could all change. It's one thing to say that they won't be different when they get to Storybrooke while they're still wrapped in this quasi-safety bubble in New York, but what's to say it won't fall apart once they get back. And what if the Dragon's words never actually come true, and their supposed path never shows the way?

"I don't know," she says, and the words sound just as apprehensive as she feels.

She waits, again, for Killian to fall asleep so she can form the words of her affections without having to really tell him.

Things are easier with their fake relationship gone and a real one in place. It's somehow even more comfortable when they collapse onto the couch at the end of the day and she can openly engage him in some quality make-out time. Killian's kisses are perfect and hypnotic, a fact that annoys her and pleases her all at the same time. They still both feel a presence at their backs when they walk down the streets, but when he kisses the back of her hand or she pulls him close for a hug, it's not for their audience anymore. It's just for them.

She almost forgets that there's some mysterious villain lurking around the corner until she bumps into Walsh in the middle of January, running straight into him even though she only glanced down to look at her phone for a second.

"I'm so sor – oh, Walsh. Hi." Given how much she's seen him in the last couple months, she's beyond any sense of being nice and straight into irritation. She knew the sidewalk was clear when she looked down.

"Emma! It's so nice to see you. How's it been?" Lurking below the politeness of his inquiry is that same oily feeling she got from him at the hotel. He's standing inside her personal bubble but it seems like any time she tries to edge back, he's right there with her.

"Life's good, job's good, kid's good." It's not the rudest thing she's ever said, at least.

"And how about the boyfriend? He good, too? Or did your rebound already get booted?"

"Not that it's any of your business, we're better than ever." It takes everything in her not to physically push him away, so she reins in her emotions with a few calming breaths. "Look, I'm sorry it didn't work out between us, but you need to stop following me."

"What do you mean?" He's still way too close, and if she's not mistaken, he's attempting to loom over her.

"I have lost track of the number of times I've seen you ducking around corners and behind telephone poles, at this point, Walsh. You've been following me and Killian, and I'm pretty sure you're keeping tabs on my son. You need to back off." Instead of backing away, she stands her ground, straightening her spine and bracing for whatever he has to say.

She's not expecting him to chuckle, for him to casually shove his hands into his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. "You know, I actually liked you, but you clearly have no idea what you're up against."

"What?"

"I said," he enunciates, "that you have no idea. Not just about what I've been doing, but what's out there waiting for you, Emma."

She knew she should've trusted her instincts about him after she saw him at the hotel. He's connected to all of this, but just who is he? And does he mean the threat is in the city or could he be talking about Storybrooke? "So tell me, what's waiting for me?"

"Oh, you and the captain will find out soon enough. You'll never get back home, Emma."

Her eyebrows furrow and she frowns at that. "Is that a threat?"

"It's the truth," he says with no hesitation. He sighs, turning on his heel and pacing the length of sidewalk they're on. "I wish you hadn't taken that potion."

He was saving the craziest line for last, apparently. "What?"

"You couldn't leave well enough alone." He turns, pointing at her in emphasis, and it finally clicks in Emma's brain that she should at least be worried that Walsh's eyes glow red.

"Who are you?"

He doesn't answer. Not explicitly anyway - instead, he advances on her menacingly, his face the picture of fury.

The implicit answer, of course, is that he's bad fucking news. It's not like this is that much of a surprise because she should be used to things not being what they appear by now.

It's probably for the best that she doesn't have her gun with her right now, because, "Local Woman Shoots Ex-Boyfriend" isn't the kind of headline she's in the mood to deal with, and the way he's coming at her, she's pretty damn sure he wouldn't back off if she pulled out a firearm. It's not like she hasn't had to hold her own while unarmed before.

When he comes at her, she does what comes naturally; she ducks, letting him practically trip over her and go flying over a railing down into a basement stairwell. Shit, that's gotta hurt.

But there's no time to check on him. She considers – only briefly – bolting and getting home to safety, but now the jig is up and unless she asserts herself big time, Walsh is just going to go after Henry and Killian. Yes, Henry's at school, and she could just pick him up to make sure he doesn't come home alone. But she can't do that every day, and eventually, Walsh will strike. And Killian – even though he can hold his own against Walsh, she can imagine a hostage situation with the bookshop owners or something. If he's really been following them, then everyone they know in the city is officially in danger if the altercation doesn't end here.

No, she has to find some kind of weapon, and find one now, so she can make it clear to Walsh that whatever his game is, he's going to regret threatening her, and her family.

She can hear his pained groans as she searches for something, anything, that'll work. But for once, just her luck, the street and sidewalk are spotless. Did he prepare for this or something? How the hell did he manage to confront her in the only deserted, clean street in the entire city?

The sounds coming from behind her change, suddenly, in a way that sends an electric chill down her spine. A weapon will have to wait.

She turns to find not Walsh, but a flying monkey crawling its way out of the stairwell.

Well, shit.

She does need a weapon. Violent ex-boyfriends and runaway teens and drunken bar brawlers, she can handle with her bare hands. But not a flying monkey.

Desperately, as the flying monkey that apparently used to be Walsh – and seriously?! – begins to flap its wings menacingly, she shoves her hands into her pockets. What does she have?

Phone? Yeah, like the police are gonna get here in time to see this.

Stick of gum? Her heart flutters, since it's the only flavor Killian likes, so it's the flavor she's switched to. But it's not going to help.

Wallet? Maybe monkey Walsh accepts bribes?

Keys – keys!

She pulls out her keys, fitting them between her fingers as best she can. It's not ideal, and the one time before this she tried to use them like this, she'd just dropped them and had to resort to her Taser. But she's got keys, so she's going to use keys.

Walsh seems to find this very amusing, grinning evilly and showing off extremely unnaturally pointy teeth as he does so. And then he's leaping at her.

She tries to time her slash as best she can, infusing it with all the hope she has for what making it out of this alive will give her. Her love for her family rushes through her heart and she just hopes. She expects that, best case scenario, she's going to end up on the pavement, probably smacking the back of her head on it, while his much, much more effective-looking claws do to her what she's hoping her keys will do to him.

She does not expect to stay standing, as Walsh is thrown backwards into the side of a building. He hits the bricks with so much force that, to her shock, there's suddenly no flying monkey. There's just a cloud of ash, floating in the air.

What the hell? How do keys do that?

It's then that she realizes the keys are warm in her hand. It takes little more than a second for her eyes to focus on the keychain. The little cartoon version of Snow White flows up at her, and Emma clasps it to her chest. Leave it to her mother to give a hope speech when she's not even there.

She needs to get to Killian, now. If she has magic, that means this is what's going to get them to Storybrooke, and the life they've been living for the last couple weeks is about to drastically change. She checks the time, calculating that by the time she makes it back, Killian should just be getting home from the bookstore.

Much like the day she walked home from the hotel the first time, the journey back to the apartment is filled with a sense of urgency. She bursts through the front door, calling out for Killian before she's fully closed it.

"What is it, Swan?" His concern is evident as she rounds the corner, straight to where he's standing and into his waiting arms. "Are you all right, love?"

"It was Walsh," she manages to say, "but also a flying monkey. I know that sounds crazy but that's what he looked like."

"You're hugging Captain Hook, darling. Nothing sounds crazy. But what happened? Where is he?"

"He's gone. I got him with a good, old-fashioned shot of magic, thanks to a little helper." Emma leans back and holds up her keys so that the little Snow White is dangling between their faces. "I think we found our way home." She tosses the keys onto the island, turning to lightly grip the lapels of the waistcoat Killian is wearing.

"That's brilliant!" With how excited he sounds, Emma's proud of herself for still picking up on the slight disappointment she hears.

"We could stay," she offers. She looks down to her hands, fiddling with the fabric between her fingers and running one down the chain of his necklace.

"Swan, we couldn't, and you know that."

"I know, but I just – I don't want anything to change. I like us just the way we are right now. Who's to say when we'll get a moment of peace from now on? Isn't this the way it goes? We'll be hitting the ground running as soon as we cross that town line."

"Emma," Killian says, tilting her chin to look at him again. "You know how I feel about you. Neither my feelings nor I will be going anywhere anytime soon. No matter what happens, I'll be beside you."

In situations such as this, Emma is terrible with words. So she responds with action instead. She leans forward, pressing her lips to his in what was supposed to be a simple kiss, but she gets caught up in the way he cups the back of her head and delves a little deeper. He hums low, and she thinks about resisting, but her blood is still pumping way too fast from the encounter with a flying freaking monkey so if this gets a little out of hand, she's perfectly okay with that.

"Your thoughts right now are pretty loud, Swan, but your son will be home in an hour. Do we have enough time?"

She considers it for barely a second before replying. "Yes, because who knows when we'll have a moment alone again."

They take advantage of every quiet minute they can, savoring the calm before the chaos that they'll have to incite to set their course back to Storybrooke. Killian, without saying the words, reminds her how he feels with every contact of his skin to hers. She tries to tell him in every kiss, every soft sigh, every whispered request that she feels the same way.

If tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day bring a cacophony of whatever it is they're about to walk into, then this time they take for themselves is everything she could've asked for.

Killian puts himself back together faster than Emma does, afterwards, and she lounges on the bed while she watches him finish up the buttons on his shirt. It's only once he decides to put a vest back on that she clambers up on slightly unsteady legs, standing before him and doing those buttons up for him. He doesn't need her to do it, she just knows that it's her fault he had to pick the one that takes more work because she knocked one of the clasps off of the other one in her haste to get him naked earlier.

His hand eases along her side as she works, his eyes fixed on her face and his bottom lip caught under his teeth as he watches her. She doesn't say anything, just finishes her task and gives him a kiss on the cheek before sending him out with a request for grilled cheese tonight. A little comfort will go a long way in easing her tonight.

She makes a list of the quick and easy things they can accomplish while Henry is in school tomorrow. Killian will have to let the bookstore owners know, and they'll have to pack. She doesn't want to have to send for their stuff to be packed and sent, so she figures they can just take as much as they can and alert the landlord. Everything else, she figures, is replaceable. They'll have the important stuff with them, and all their clothes.

By the time the weekend comes around, Emma and Killian have packed everything they want to salvage from the apartment, from this life they've built over family dinners and with calm affection. They rent a small trailer they hitch to the back of the bug and repeat the steps they made after Emma first took the potion.

This time, however, it's with just as much urgency, but no panic. As they get ready to walk out the door, Emma picks her leather jacket up from the back of the kitchen chair she placed it on earlier. Sliding it on feels like sliding on the past, and she delights in the fact that she's likely going to see her parents before the day is out. She looks around the space that was theirs, and marvels at how cold the rooms feel without the touches of them scattered around. For more than a year, this was her home, but she's definitely ready to leave it. Even the plants are packed, at Killian's insistence.

The ride to Maine is thankfully peaceful, and not a single unseen creature follows their movements at any point during the journey. Unfortunately, the drive is just as long as it was the last time they made it, and she finds her thoughts wandering as she drives past scenery she's sure to have memorized at this point. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Killian observing the landscape and fidgeting with his fake hand; he'll likely have the hook back by the end of the week, and she's almost looking forward to it.

Some thought from the moment they were initially leaving town springs back into her memory, and Emma smiles as she thinks of the new joke: a savior, a pirate, and the truest believer are riding in a car… At least, this time she's heading towards her future instead of away from it.

Henry is asleep in the back seat once more, but this time when Emma pulls up to the location, the sign is there. The line is there. There's just the faintest hints of a green fog hanging around the partition, but at least they can get back in. With one last deep breath, Emma shifts the car into gear and accelerates forward. At the last second, she holds out her hand to Killian. Their fingers link together just as they cross over into Storybrooke.