It looked a bit like the ocean.

Everything was blue and white, waves upon waves of it, and more people than he'd ever seen in his entire life, hanging out of windows and off of scaffolding, dozens of them standing on cars and perched on top of phone booths Killian couldn't quite believe were still on the sidewalks.

And, God, they were loud.

Screaming and shouting and yelling, all of them packed on top of each other, a sea of team-branded merchandise and signs with his face plastered on them.

"You look kind of stunned there, Jones," Emma said, muttering the words against his ear as he wrapped an arm around her waist out of instinct.

"I might be," he admitted softly, eyes tracing across the crowd when they started actually chanting his name and he almost didn't hear Emma laugh against him. Almost. "Can you believe there are still phone booths in New York City?"

"That's what you're getting out of this?"

Killian shrugged and Emma laughed louder. "I mean, maybe? It doesn't feel quite real yet, Swan."

"They're literally chanting your name right now. That doesn't throw it in kind of stark reality?"

"I don't know, love, it's been a week." Emma smiled at him, lip tugged tightly in between her teeth when she rested her palm against the jersey he'd been forced back into. "And Scarlet filming all of it, doesn't really help."

As if on cue, Will appeared a few feet in front of them, sprinting from the other side of the float with a phone in his hand and a grin on his face that Killian was certain hadn't faltered since he'd kissed the Stanley Cup in the Garden locker room.

"God, Cap, are you complaining again?" Will asked, pushing the phone into Killian's face.

"I'm not complaining," Killian argued and Emma clicked her tongue. "What? I'm not. But you've got to admit, Scarlet, you've been taking this job pretty seriously."

"Yeah, well, it's important."

"And you're going to milk it for everything it's worth, huh?"

"Just because your girlfriend didn't ask you to be the official documenter of our post-Cup celebration is not my fault, Cap."

"I seem to remember you volunteering, Scarlet," Killian said, tugging Emma a bit closer to his side. The crowd got louder. "Enthusiastically."

"Whatever," Will grumbled. He pushed the phone closer to Killian's face, making him pull back and he wasn't quite smiling anymore, eyebrows pulled low and lips twisted just a bit and there'd been a very good reason why he hadn't been the one to volunteer for whatever post-Cup documentation Scarlet seemed to be obsessed with.

Regina wasn't at the parade, wasn't on the float behind them with Henry and Roland and her own custom-made Locksley jersey. She was several dozen blocks uptown sitting in another office with front-office bigwigs and ownership and her face was probably going to freeze in death glare mode because this whole thing was taking just a bit longer than it probably should have.

It should have been simple.

The Rangers wanted him, Killian wanted the Rangers – they just couldn't seem to agree on some of the finer points of that. And Regina would be damned if she didn't get him every dollar he deserved.

Or so she said.

He didn't really care. He just wanted to sign a contract and get Scarlet's phone out of his face and then he and Emma were going to discuss that island they'd been so certain they needed before.

Emma tapped her fingers on the front of his jersey, tracing over the 'C' on his shoulder and Will, mercifully, pulled the phone away. "Soon, Cap," he mumbled. "I'm sure it's going to be soon."

"It's not like they're not talking," Emma reasoned, falling back on arguments and explanations she'd been repeating for the better part of the last four days. Killian's shoulders sagged at that, some of the tension falling out of them and maybe they should just leave now, buy the whole goddamn island and throw their respective phones in the actual ocean, so they could have five minutes by themselves.

And then maybe he'd tell her he kept looking at apartment listings.

And he'd lost that bet.

They could put the new apartment on their new island.

The crowd cheered again and the float – or whatever it was, he wasn't certain they'd landed on float as the term for what they were standing on – stopped suddenly, the truck that was pulling them up the Canyon of Heroes shifting into park so quickly, all three of them nearly lost their balance.

"What the fuck," Will muttered and Emma shot him a glare. "We'll edit that out, Emma, I promise."

"Yeah, yeah, you know how many things I've had to edit out so far? You're more trouble than this is worth, Scarlet."

"You're going to hurt my feelings."

"I can't send your feelings to season-tickets."

"That'd be weird."

Emma laughed, shaking her hair so some of the ticker-tape fell out of it, landing on her jersey – his jersey, again, but this time in front of a crowd that was probably somewhere in the tens of thousands and Killian couldn't think about that for too long or they'd end up leaping off this float and possibly swimming to whatever island they hadn't bought yet.

"It would be weird," she agreed as the crowd starting chanting Let's go Rangers again. "You're missing some prime filming moments here."

Will hummed, nodding quickly and directing his phone back to the crowd, raising his other arm to try and egg him on and they still hadn't started moving yet.

Killian glanced around again, pulling his hand up to rest on Emma's waist, and he narrowed his eyes when he saw the flash of red in the sea of blue on either side of the block.

"Is that…" Emma started, leaning forward slightly and it absolutely was.

"If you start driving again before I get on that float, I will rip your goddamn truck in half," Ruby shouted, jogging up the block and it wasn't really working. The crowd just kept yelling and trying to push against the barricade and there were police officers every few feet, none of them all that interested in helping Ruby Lucas get on the float.

"Ruby what are you doing?" Emma yelled, a mix of stunned surprise and something that might have been awe in her voice.

"I am trying to get on your goddamn float, what does it look like?"

"Aren't you running press?"

"Obviously," Ruby sighed and she sounded a bit out of breath, groaning when the truck engine started to rev again. They were about to move. "God damnit, driver, what did I just say?"

"We're kind of on a schedule, Ms. Lucas," the guy said, leaning out of the open window to throw her an apologetic look. She glared in response.

"Jeez," Killian mumbled. "Ruby stay there."

He kissed the top of Emma's head before he moved, ignoring Will's quiet ah, shit, we didn't get that on camera, and swung his legs over the side of the float. The crowd roared and he blinked once when they started cheering again, leaning over the sides of barricades and in between officers to try and get him to sign something or high-five something and Ruby was jogging towards him again.

"You're breaking all the rules, Cap," she laughed, smile tugging on the ends of her mouth as soon as his hand found hers, pulling her through the crowd that had been following their float for the last few blocks. There were more camera snaps and reporters shouting questions and none of the words they were saying made much sense.

They weren't about winning or the crowd or even what the hell he was doing, pushing Ruby back towards the float and Will's outstretched arms so they could get her up without either one of them dislocating anything.

They were shouting is it true, Cap and when will you sign and eight years sounds like the rest of your career and he only half heard any of it, pulling himself back onto the float to find Ruby staring at him like he'd committed several different felonies at once.

Ruby glared at him for half a moment more, but the ends of her lips were still quirked up and she was fighting off a smile. "Ok," she said, stalking back towards the truck in front of them. "You can start moving again."

The driver didn't say anything and Killian had been fairly positive Ruby wasn't in charge of when the parade started or stopped, but his certainty wasn't quite as strong when she turned back on him. "I have news," she announced, glancing back down at her phone when it vibrated in her hand. "And, jeez, like sixty different outlets that want to talk to you, Cap."

"What?" Killian asked as what might have been an actual pound of ticker tape landed on his feet.

"Killian," Emma muttered and his head snapped back around at the tone of her voice. She didn't look up when he moved, eyes wide and focused on her phone, but her mouth was hanging open just a bit and something in his stomach seemed to shift at the look on her face.

Will muttered oh, shit, they did it under his breath and Killian couldn't really breathe – the sounds of the crowd echoing in his ears as he took a step towards Emma. She bit her lip when the tips of his shoes nearly hit her flats, eyes pulling up slowly and she just nodded.

"So," Ruby said pointedly. "You guys want the good news or, like, the exceptional news first?"

"There's more than one form of good news here?" Emma asked, shifting slightly so she was back on Killian's side and her hand found his with practiced ease. He squeezed her fingers.

"Good and then exceptional."

"Go in order of goodness then."

Ruby grinned, but her head tilted as soon as she seemed to realize something. "Shouldn't you be there?" she asked, glancing at Killian. "I mean, it is your life, right? You should be in on negotiations or whatever?"

"Probably," Killian shrugged. "But I trust Gina and whatever stare down she's, apparently, excelling at."

"And he didn't want to miss the parade," Will added knowingly, pushing his phone back into the middle of all of them.

"That too."

Ruby made a face and she was still trying not to laugh. "Ah, well, then you're going to want to make sure you get this on video, Scarlet. And if any of you swear, I'm going to push you off the side of the float. Tell him, Emma."

Emma took a deep breath, lip still in between her teeth as she pushed her phone into his hands. "Regina did a good job," she said softly.

He didn't look immediately.

He couldn't really do it, was far too aware of Emma in front of him and Scarlet's phone and the crowd was deafening now, chanting something that might have been his name and welcome back. Twitter, it seemed, had updated the world before he'd even gotten to see the numbers.

They'd used his name as a pun again.

Cap'ing off the season: Jones set to sign extension, return to Rangers

Killian didn't really read it. He couldn't seem to settle on a single word, eyes tracing across sentences and paragraphs, looking for some kind of actual confirmation that didn't include the word report in it.

It came three paragraphs from the bottom.

Sources confirm that Jones is set to sign an eight-year extension with the Blueshirts, a deal that won't just pad his wallet, but will keep him in New York, likely, for the rest of his career.

The rest of his career.

Eight years.

And while they might not be able to buy an island – or a mountain range – with the number of zeroes that were, reportedly, being offered to him, it'd be enough to pay for a moving service to get an obscene amount of pillows into a brand-new apartment.

He couldn't ask Emma to move in the middle of Broadway.

Soon.

He hadn't been back to his own apartment since they'd won. There was probably several feet of dust on the floor.

"Cap," a voice shouted from another float and Killian barely gave himself time to consider how he'd managed to hear Robin behind him before he was moving towards the sound.

Robin waved one arm over his head and Killian shrugged at the movement, smile instinctual as soon as he saw Roland perched on the top rung of the barricade, Henry next to him in head-to-toe team merch.

"Where is your phone?" Robin continued, staring at Killian as if he were about to jump from float to float and possibly shake some sense to him.

"What?"

"Your phone! Gina's been trying to call you for twenty minutes!"

"Oh, that's good," Ruby muttered, lips tilted down slightly with how impressed she was. "She did it before they even got it up on the web."

"I didn't bring my phone," Killian yelled back.

Robin looked insulted. "What? Why? God, don't tell Gina that, she's going to kill you!"

"I didn't think I'd need it."

"She's been in meetings all morning, you didn't think you'd need it?"

"No jinx or something."

"It's a lot of zeroes, Hook," Roland screamed and Henry nodded enthusiastically.

"More than whatever's in that article," Robin added, leaning over the side of the float so Killian could actually hear him.

"Did we send out a release yet?" Emma asked, her own phone already out and a determined look on her face when she started typing something. "Will are you getting this? This should be in the video."

Will nodded quickly, phone half an inch away from Killian's still-stunned face. No one had actually said it yet and the world still felt like it was shaking just a bit.

That might have just been because of the crowd.

Eight years.

The rest of his career. On the side of the goddamn Garden.

"You're not actually in charge of PR, Em," Ruby laughed softly and Emma made a noise that wasn't quite an agreement.

Killian forgot Robin for a moment, head snapping towards her and the grimace she was making. "Swan?"

"Still here," she said, not taking her eyes away from her phone.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Swan."

"Really, there's not." She glanced up at him, eyes bright and meaningful and it made his breath catch in his throat all over again. A two-bedroom apartment. They'd get a two-bedroom and a new mattress and something with a lot of light and windows and maybe they'd move closer to the park and the water.

"There's not," Emma repeated again, knocking Killian out of whatever kind of future he'd been planning. "At least not anymore."

"Anymore?" he asked and she shrugged.

"There was some talk," she said slowly, "that the PR spot was going to open up because Mal was going to the league and maybe Zelena had mentioned that they wanted to move me over since I have all that experience, but…."

"But?"

"I kind of like community relations."

She shrugged again and, yes, two bedrooms, at least, and a view of the river and and a cabinet full of cinnamon so she'd never be worried there wasn't enough and her there every morning and probably for the rest of his life.

And he was the luckiest bastard in the entire fucking world.

"I love you," Killian said, the words so obvious, he was surprised he hadn't just been muttering them in her ear on loop since he'd lifted the Stanley Cup over his head. "More than anything."

He could feel her smile when she kissed him, one hand in his hair and the other tugging on the laces of his jersey and Killian was only slightly aware of the still-yelling crowd and a still-yelling Robin and Emma's phone was ringing, pressing up against the front of him while she tried to pull him closer to him.

"Turn the camera off, Scarlet," Ruby muttered.

Will scoffed. Killian didn't stop kissing Emma. Or maybe vice versa. Maybe they should just buy a house on the Island. Maybe he shouldhave proposed on the ice.

"I mean it, Will, turn it off," Ruby continued, a quiet scuffle breaking out a few feet away when she, presumably, just grabbed the thing out of his hands. "Go yell back at Rol and Henry. Throw some ticker tape at them or something."

"I'm not just going to start throwing ticker tape, Lucas."

Ruby might have actually hissed or growled or something vaguely intimidating and Will stopped arguing immediately, practically hurling himself towards the ground to pick up a handful of ticker tape and throw it towards the float and the kids behind them and Killian didn't really notice any of it – he couldn't, not when he was far to preoccupied on maintaining some sense of control in front of fans and cameras while his mind raced towards a future he could finally, finally, start living.

With Emma.

A future with Emma.

"I love you too," she mumbled against his mouth, groaning slightly when her phone stopped ringing, only to start again almost immediately.

"It's probably Regina," Ruby said, ducking her eyes slightly when neither Killian nor Emma showed any inclination towards not kissing in the middle of a parade. "Also, did you want the semi-good news or nah?"

Killian laughed, glancing towards Ruby who was beaming at both of them. "What's the semi-good news, Lucas?"

"Oh, I totally got Neal fired," she said without preamble and Emma nearly dropped her phone, spinning to gape at Ruby.

"What?"

"Totally," Ruby smiled, widening her eyes with a surge of pride.

"How?"

"I know some people in the league. And they were very, very interested in a PR director serving as an anonymous source."

Emma made a noise in the back of her throat. "And they just believed you? It's not like his name was anywhere in those stories."

"No," Ruby said, still smiling. "But Gold was. And, from what I'd heard before, Gold wasn't very pleased with the way all of this shaped out. No Cup, no destroyed career for Cap, nothing. Rumor had it he was going to clean house again and Neal was pretty much on the doorstep anyway. I think he thought if he just told the league the truth, they'd give him his old job. Bygones or whatever."

"Did they?"

"Nope. Kicked to the curb from the doorstep without so much as a second glance."

"You're a fountain of clichés right now aren't you?"

Ruby shrugged. "I hung out with Mrs. V at the restaurant for awhile, guess some stuff stuck."

The phone rang again and then vibrated against his chest and Regina had started leaving voicemails now. "She'll kill you if you don't call back," Emma chuckled softly. "Let's avoid that if we can."

He groaned, but she was right and he was half surprised that Regina hadn't also found her way to Broadway and through the ocean of blue jerseys if only to yell at him about answering your phone when there was an extension a signature away.

Emma pressed her phone into his palm, smiling softly when he hit the number that had already called four times in a row and left two voicemails.

It barely rang once before she answered.

"Are you kidding me, Jones?" Regina screeched and Killian winced at the sound.

"Jeez, Gina."

"Where is your phone?"

"I found a phone."

"That didn't answer my question, Jones."

"What the hell is that? You've never called me Jones in my life."

"That's because I've never been this mad at you in my life! Where?"

"At home."

"Home," Regina repeated, the skepticism obvious in her voice. "You mean Emma's apartment."

"Home, Gina," Killian said sharply.

Regina sighed with all the drama of someone who'd missed out on a Stanley Cup parade and then been ignored for the better part of the last twenty minutes. "They want you up here," she said and her voice wasn't quite as hard as it had been. "Once you do City Hall and the photos. They want to make it official. Today. And tell Lucas you're not talking until you actually sign something. They'll lose their minds up here if you do."

He squeezed his closed again, trying to to will the moment in the darkest corners of his memory and his brain and whatever he'd think about when he needed to be happy – God, he was happy. "Ruby knows the rules, Gina," Killian said.

"Even so."

"Sure."

"Four o'clock, Killian. Don't take the Subway."

"Aye, aye your majesty."

"Ass," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "And congratulations."

It was quieter than it had been all day – hours after the parade and City Hall and fans chanting welcome back when he got the goddamkey to the fucking city like he was some kind of superhero. Killian's hand hadn't shook when he signed, pen held firmly in his hand when he scribbled across a sheet of paper that would change his whole life.

Again.

This sport and this city and everything he'd done, consolidated into a few paragraphs and subparagraphs and Regina hovered over his shoulder to make sure he didn't miss a single line or spot to initial.

It had been everything he'd suddenly realized he couldn't live without and, now, hours after all of it – phone calls answered and text messages returned and Elsa had screamed so loudly when he'd picked up that she'd woken up Lizzie and he had to shout the specifics of the contract in between cries – but now it was quiet and it all kind of hit him...at once.

"You look like you're trying to plan every hour of the next eight years," Emma said, leaning up against the doorframe with her arms crossed lightly over team-merch and a small smile on her mouth.

"Not every hour," Killian countered. "Just some of them."

"Eight years. That's a long time."

"It is." The bed dipped slightly when she sat down, swinging her legs onto the mattress and pressing her back up against the wall. She twisted her hair around a finger, pulling her leg up to rest on her chin on her knee. "What, Swan?"

"I'm just...this is good. It worked..."

She glanced at him, eyes just a bit cautious, like she was waiting for that other shoe or whatever cliche made sense in a moment like this and he knew, more than he'd known just about anything, that it wouldn't come.

"It did," Killian said, tracing his thumb down the front of her leg and her tongue darted out in between her lips, breath hitching just a bit. He moved his arm, pulling Emma back down towards him and against his chest and he fell asleep with hair in his face and her arm pressed against a bruise that still hadn't quite healed, visions of the future dancing just behind his eyelids.

She absolutely, positively, was not crying.

And had not cried once. At all. Never. Emma didn't cry. She didn't do emotions – or hadn't, not until this stupid team and this stupid city and the last two weeks had been a whirlwind of everything, every emotion she could name or feel, balled up into one, massive thing that just seemed to send shockwaves of feeling through every single of inch of her consistently and without warning.

She was definitely crying.

It was, Emma reasoned, because Mary Margaret looked like some kind of actual princess, a picture of happiness with a smile on her face that hadn't wavered once all day, even when NY1 tried to tell them it was going to rain.

It didn't.

Emma was half convinced Mary Margaret had willed it not to.

"Are you crying?" David asked, nearly falling into a chair in the corner of the restaurant. He'd taken off his tie somewhere in between the ceremony and the photos, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up his forearms as he stared at Emma like he was trying to read her mind.

"Nah," Emma muttered, brushing under her eyes quickly to get rid of the evidence David had absolutely already seen.

"She's been crying all day," Mary Margaret laughed, hand landing on David's shoulder when she walked towards the table and Emma's jaw dropped open.

"Whatever, Reese's. I take back every compliment I've given you today."

"That's not how it works. I'm hoarding them all. Cherishing them, even."

"Is that weird?"

Mary Margaret shook her head, lips pressed together as she tried not to smile. Or start crying. The three of them were a mess. "Of course not. My day or whatever."

"Or whatever," Emma agreed and her throat felt tight and her eyes felt misty and she was totally going to start crying again.

"Are we having a moment?" David asked. "Is that what's happening right now?"

"Can we have more moments? I feel like we should have run out of them by now."

Mary Margaret clicked her tongue and Emma was momentarily impressed by her ability to roll her eyes while she was still smiling. "The idea that there is some sort of limit on the number of moments we can have is absurd."

"You know, Reese's," Emma laughed, shooting a glance David's direction. He bit his lip. "That was almost, almost, decidedly snippy."

"Almost," David assured her when Mary Margaret made some kind of noise in the back of her throat. "Not quite, babe."

Emma shook her head. "Oh, God, they've started the nickname thing. Time to retreat."

"Rude."

"True. I'm surprised you guys are even still here. I thought you were just going to start attacking each other in the middle of the aisle."

"There wasn't an aisle, Emma."

She couldn't even argue that – there hadn't been, not really. There had been a line of flowers and a violin and Emma had cried then too, tears falling down her cheeks without her permission as soon as Mary Margaret appeared at the top of the steps in front of the castle.

They got married at a castle.

Like a fairy tale.

And Emma's dress was blue and Ruby had complained a bit more than she probably should have, but David's jaw actually droppedwhen he saw Mary Margaret and she'd needed to bite her lip so she didn't just dissolve into feelings right there.

"And," Mary Margaret muttered knowingly, a very specific type of look on her face when she leaned towards Emma. "We're not the only ones making eyes at each other all night."

David practically cackled, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut and Emma groaned, but she couldn't really argue that either.

She'd spent all of two seconds staring at David and Mary Margaret before her gaze drifted a bit to her side and Killian was sitting three rows back, Roland half on his knee and half on his own seat – he didn't look away from her once, something just on the edge of his gaze that made Emma's knees go weak and, well, maybe that was what she'd dissolve over.

It really wasn't fair.

She should probably tell him that at some point, mumble the words in his ear and tug a bit on that ridiculously blue tie and she'd seen him in suits plenty of times, had seen him in blue more times than she could count, and none of it really mattered.

He still looked better than the best adjective she could come up with and Emma found herself staring at Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, while Mary Margaret and David kissed a few feet behind her at the end of what wasn't actually an aisle.

And he told her she looked beautiful as soon as she found him, her thumb tracing over a scar on the back of his left hand when his fingers tugged on hers, pulling her away from the crowd and the team and anything that wasn't another decidedly emotional moment.

They might have scandalized the cab driver on the ride from the park to the restaurant.

"I don't make eyes,," Emma mumbled and David was probably going to laugh at her for the rest of her life. "God, David, if this was a moment, you've absolutely ruined it."

He made a face, reaching his hand forward to rest on her knee and the light seemed to reflect off his ring.

Emma was far too emotional for her own good.

A waiter she'd never seen before in the restaurant appeared next to them as if he'd teleported there, a tray in their hands and an offer of food on his lips and Emma sat up a bit straighter, moving her finger through the air as she counted.

A round dozen.

"What?" David asked, eyebrows drawn low as he twisted his head between Mary Margaret and Emma.

"Don't do it, Emma," Mary Margaret warned. "I don't want to hear it. I wanted all that food and we will eat all that food. And people will love it."

Emma laughed loudly, her whole body shaking with the feel of it until it seemed to sink down into her toes and her fingers and she was so goddamn happy, it was somewhere close to ecstatic. Maybe she should find her boyfriend.

"You going to force me to take home food from your wedding too, Reese's?" Emma asked. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."

Mary Margaret sagged forward slightly and Emma's happiness ebbed just a bit, forcing her out of her chair and around David and if she wasn't a crier, then she certainly wasn't a hugger, but none of that seemed to matter.

She wrapped her arms around Mary Margaret, careful not to actually get anything caught on the dress and there were more tears and David laughed when he pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of them.

"It's absolutely a moment," David said and his eyes were just a bit glossy too.

Emma scoffed, wiping the back of her hands across her cheeks as she did her best to salvage the ridiculous amount of makeup she was wearing. "How come you guys aren't dancing? Shouldn't you be all wrapped up in each other or something?"

"We wanted to eat before we danced," Mary Margaret explained.

"Well, when you've got so many appetizers to try…."

Mary Margaret scowled at her, but it didn't really hold much weight when she was still trying to hug Emma. The music changed, slower and more romantic than it had been before and the small crowd that had been dancing shifted automatically, arms around necks and hands on hips and Emma would have to ask Mrs. Vankald for a specific type of cliché in this moment.

"Well, that seems like our cue," David said, tugging lightly on Mary Margaret's arms until they moved away from Emma.

Mary Margaret beamed at him, taking a few steps towards the makeshift dance floor Ariel had helped set up the day before. She glanced back at Emma and it wasn't quite like any look she'd ever had before – a mix of happiness and content and something just on the edge that Emma couldn't quite name.

"Eat some food," Mary Margaret said, reaching forward to squeeze Emma's hand, her thumb brushing just over her wrist.

Emma nodded slowly. If she cried anymore she'd absolutely mess up her makeup. "Sure thing, Mom."

They were half a second away from another moment, but the music was still playing and someone was shouting for David and Mary Margaret to dance and probably kiss, the echo of silverware on glass sounding a bit louder than it probably should have in that absurdly crowded restaurant.

And for a wedding that was, decidedly, not Rangers-themed, there were a lot of New York Rangers at that wedding.

Will and Belle were dancing and Ariel kept taking pictures, shouting the word girlfriend at both of them every few moments. Ruby seemed intent on dealing with the blue of her dress by doing shots at the bar, camped out on the corner stool with Dorothy by her side and Jefferson behind her, none of them able to sit quite straight.

Regina had smiled more in the last three hours than Emma had seen all season, tugging Roland and Henry onto the dance floor with her and Robin until they made some sort of family square that couldn't quite move perfectly to the music, but kept laughing when one of them would trip over their own feet.

And for as much as Emma had cried throughout the day, Ruth seemed determined to give her a run for her money, eyes just a bit redder than normal.

It was perfect.

"Seems a shame to waste the music, doesn't it, Swan?"

Emma glanced up, something that might have been a giggle or just joy falling into the space between them. He'd been on the other side of the restaurant for all of ten minutes and she'd already forgotten how good he looked in that stupid suit.

It absolutely was not fair.

"You're staring, love," Killian murmured, smirk tugging on the ends of his lips as he held his hand out in front of her. She took it immediately, hardly even noticing when he started walking again, pushing through the small crowd in front of them.

"Yeah, well," Emma said and it sounded like she sighed out the words when he moved his hand to her hip. "Your suit is dumb."

"Dumb?"

"The absolute dumbest."

"I think you like this suit, Swan."

"I think you like my dress."

"I'm not arguing that."

They'd actually started dancing at some point and whoever was in charge of the music was either a villain or a genius or maybe a bit of both, because one song blended into another and the rhythm didn't change as all, just as slow as ever with just as much meaningbehind all of it.

"What are we doing right now?" Emma asked, leaning back slightly to stare at him. That was a mistake. His eyes matched his tie and her dress and everything was almost oppressively blue. She heard Ariel's camera shutter sound.

Killian quirked one eyebrow, the smirk as stupid as his suit and whatever was going on with his hair – pushed up in the back and twisted just bit in the front and both of those things were absolutely Emma's fault.

"We're dancing, Swan, obviously," Killian said, squeezing his hand a bit tighter on her hip as if that, somehow, proved his point.

"No, no, I get that, but how?"

"How?"

"How do you know how to dance?" Emma pressed. "This is good. You're good at this." Killian didn't answer immediately, the other eyebrow joining the first up his forehead and Emma groaned loudly. "God," she sighed. "Why are you good at everything?"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

Killian laughed, brushing his lips across hers quickly and Ariel was definitely still taking pictures. "It's like skating," he said. "You find a rhythm and you stick with it. Simple."

"I don't know about that."

"You're doing fine, Swan."

"Gee, thanks"

He moved again, pulling her flush against his chest and, while she'd absolutely never admit it, it did feel a bit like skating – gliding,jeez, in a tiny circle and she couldn't quite understand how she could feel grounded and dizzy at the same time.

She'd blame the suit.

"I'm not mocking you, love," Killian said and there was an earnest edge to his voice that Emma didn't entirely expect. "In fact, what I'm trying to say is that you appear to be a natural." He twisted her away from him and, for half a moment, Emma considered complaining about that, but Killian barely gave her a chance to even finish the thought, pulling her back and kissing her forehead and she couldn't talk when she could hardly even breathe.

"After all," he added. "There's really only one rule to all of this."

"That so?"

He nodded slowly, Emma's stomach flipping at the movement or maybe how much they were swaying and she bit her lip when he spoke again. "Pick a partner who knows what he's doing."

There was a retort on the tip of her tongue – something slightly snarky that would probably make him smirk at her and then maybe kiss her again and it didn't really matter as long as he didn't move his hands – but she never got a chance, interrupted by a shout and Will Scarlet skidding to a stop next to them.

"Emma," he yelled, backing up slightly when Killian turned to glare at him. "Jeez, Cap, relax."

"What, Scarlet," Emma sighed.

"I want to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that. Talk." Will glanced at Killian, still glaring daggers at him, but it didn't seem to worry him. If anything, he simply looked more determined to talk. "What," Emma repeated.

"You've got to lay down the law on the last round of the bet."

Killian stiffened next to Emma, his hand going dangerously tight on her waist. "Shut up, Scarlet," he hissed.

Will didn't move, just looked a bit more entrenched in front of them, crossing his arms over his button-up and staring at Killian expectantly. "Fair's fair, Cap. You lost. It's time to pay up."

"I'm serious, Scarlet."

"Me too."

Killian huffed, teeth digging into his lip and he looked like he wanted to check Will into the boards. Or maybe the bar. Emma took a step in between them, keeping one hand trained on Killian's chest when she looked questioningly at Will.

"What are you talking about, Scarlet? I didn't think you guys bet in the last game."

"Cap," Will yelled. "You didn't even tell her?"

Killian didn't answer, just pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and he'd probably need offseason PT if he kept holding his shoulders that straight. "Fine, Scarlet," Emma sighed. "I'll bite. I take it you won, then?"

"Obviously."

"What were the stakes?"

"Well, Cap wouldn't let us bet on A's kid…"

"You wanted to bet on an unborn baby?"

"You and Cap spend way too much time together, that's exactly what he said."

Emma rolled her eyes. Killian hadn't breathed in hours – at least. "What did you win, Scarlet?" she continued impatiently and Will actually had the gall to grin at her.

"The better question, Emma, is what did you win?"

She made a face, pulling her head back in confusion and glancing at Killian quickly. He looked like he'd already come up with several different ways to kill Will and make it look like an accident.

"You're not making any sense," Emma said.

Will clicked his tongue, grin widening as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Cap's got to sell his apartment."

"What?"

"Those were the stakes. If he lost, and he definitely lost, then he's got to sell his apartment and tell you how he's been looking up apartment listings since the week before we actually won the Cup and then he'll probably say something stupid romantic too. I don't care about that last part."

Emma turned before Will had even stopped talking, spinning on a visibly nervous Killian who couldn't seem to meet her gaze. "Is that true?" she asked, voice softer than she wanted it to be.

"No, no," Killian said quickly, ignoring Will's pointed groan. "Well, not all of it at least. I wasn't looking up apartments a week before the Cup."

"No?"

"Nah, not until, like, a couple days before. At the earliest."

She wasn't sure what she expected. It hadn't been that. It probably should have. And they probably should have talked about this weeks before because she couldn't remember the last time Killian hadn't slept in her apartment or the last time she'd thought of her apartment as exclusively hers.

God, she wanted that.

She wanted all of that – every single emotion that had a name and then, maybe, an absurd amount of decorative pillows.

"Where?" she asked, well aware that it wasn't nearly specific enough. There needed to be more words, more questions and, maybe, more kissing and she needed Will Scarlet to move, at least, six feet away from them.

"What?" Killian whispered.

"Where? Like where in the city were you looking?"

He opened his mouth and closed it and then did it two more times before the air rushed out of him loudly and his shoulders visibly sagged, blinking quickly at Emma like he was a bit stunned to still find her standing there.

"Um, still uptown," Killian said slowly. "Just maybe kind of farther up. By the park. Or something. It wasn't very specific."

"That'd be nice."

"Yeah?"

She licked her lips before she answered, the certainty that this might have been the most important conversation she'd ever had settling over her. Will still hadn't moved and Emma knew Mary Margaret was watching a few feet away, could feel her curious stare boring into the back of her head like some kind of proud mother.

"Yeah," Emma said, nodding once for good measure. "I mean, we've kind of been doing it already, right? When's the last time you went home?"

"Last night," Killian answered immediately.

"What?"

"I went home with you, Swan, last night. And every night for, what, the last two months?"

Her heart exploded – or something equally impossible and it might have landed on the floor, which only seemed appropriate, since she hadn't wanted to come to very first party in the restaurant uptown.

Until I met you.

"Something like that," Emma mumbled. Killian beamed at her.

"God," Ariel cried a few feet away, her phone still in her hand and Eric hovering nearby when she tried to actually climb on a chair so she could see both of them better. "Kiss her already!"

She was never sure who moved first – him or her or maybe they didn't really move at all, just kind of fell into each other, like they had from the very start.

And it didn't take nearly as long as she thought it would have, or probably should have, Killian's apartment selling quickly and easily and Emma refused to question it, certain she'd, somehow, managed to jinx all of it.

They moved into the apartment in August, just a few weeks before camp was set to get underway and a few days after they'd come back from Colorado, days spent in a backyard and something Liam kept referring to as mountain air and Killian had kept his arm trained around her shoulder when they left, the twins clinging to his legs while they tried to get in the car.

She'd thought that had been perfect.

This was, somehow, even better.

It was theirs in a way that nothing had quite been and they signed the paperwork together, hauling boxes in and there was another security guard in the lobby, nodding towards them with a quiet Mr. Jones and Ms. Swan when they brought another load of stuff into the elevator.

The entire contingent had been called on to help and, for the most part, they had – Robin and Will bringing in furniture with only a minimal amount of grumbling, while a starting-to-show Ariel followed behind with shouts to be careful and don't strain anything. Mary Margaret had taken it upon herself to start putting away towels and organize the kitchen and she'd bought them a new set of tupperware.

David piled boxes in the hallway and they had a hallway and two bedrooms and a view of the river. The Hudson River. It was the Hudson. Emma had told Killian that when they looked at the apartment the first time.

Finding the apartment was easy – moving into the apartment took all day and left them with boxes and a Conn-Smythe in the corner of the hallway. The Hart Trophy Killian had won just before they went to Colorado was sitting on top of the oven.

It was an unequivocal domestic disaster.

It was perfect.

Emma had no idea what time it was when everyone left – Mary Margaret promising to bring food and leaving cookies before being pulled out the door by David, a knowing smile on his face – but it must have been late, the whole apartment quiet when she leaned against the wall behind the bed.

"You alright, Swan?" Killian asked, appearing in the doorway in a University of Minnesota t-shirt that left Emma somewhere in the realm of decidedly wooed.

"Better," she promised. "Your Hart is sitting on the oven, you know."

"I think it looks good there."

"You want to keep a giant trophy on the oven? Where's the Conn-Smythe?"

Killian shrugged, taking a step into the room and dropping down on the edge of the bed. They'd bought a new mattress.

God.

"Why not? Our apartment, we can do whatever we want, right? Maybe we should buy a trophy case to put in the kitchen, though. Just to make sure it's organized."

"Are you suggesting, Cap, that you're going to win more massive trophies to put in our kitchen?"

"Maybe."

"Confident."

"Nah, Swan," he laughed. "Just consistently trying to impress you."

"I'm going to be honest, the Stanley Cup kind of helped."

He laughed again, twisting back towards her until his legs stretched out over the blankets Mary Margaret had absolutely put on the bed earlier that afternoon. "Speaking of which," Killian muttered, tugging something out of his pocket. "You know, we never did replace your laces."

"We have been kind of busy."

"Seems like a pretty poor excuse."

"Maybe I'll steal them out of the jersey I bought."

Killian made a noise, shaking his head quickly and Emma didn't even try to move. "Actually," he muttered. "I had kind of a different idea."

She couldn't really breathe, eyes going wide and mouth going dry when Killian flipped his wrist, holding his hand up towards her. "Calm down, Swan," he laughed when she made some kind of impossible noise. "I'm not proposing."

It was a ring.

It was his ring.

And it wasn't as ostentatious as it probably could have been – not enormous or covered in diamonds, just a blue stone in the middle with the Rangers shield on the side, his initials and numbers etched inside the band.

"There's supposed to be a ceremony," Killian continued, voice scratchy and Emma couldn't pull her eyes away from the ring. "We're supposed to all get dressed up and you'd probably be able to auction off tickets for fans and it'll still happen once we get closer to the season, but I, uh, I knew they came in earlier this week and, well, I wanted you to have it."

She needed oxygen. She needed to breathe. She couldn't seem to do that, frozen solid in the middle of a brand-new bed in her homeand Killian kept his hand open in front of her.

Emma reached her fingers out slowly, brushing against the ring and Killian's palm and he flinched slightly underneath her.

"I can't take that," she said softly. "You don't...you won, Killian. You should keep it."

"I want you to have it, Swan," he repeated. "I wouldn't...I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. There'd be no Cup, no trophies on the oven, none of this. This is yours just as much as it's mine. And, if nothing else, it's a reminder that you've got a piercing-eyed, smoldering, Stanley Cup-winning hockey player who loves you."

"Had to add in that last part, huh?"

"It's true."

"Yeah, it is," Emma agreed, shaking with her laughter. "And I love you too."

He'd put it on a chain, muttering something about how it was indestructible, so it won't break when you start tugging on it, and Emma ignored that, kissing him silent until he dropped the ring in between them.

It was heavy when she finally hung it over her neck, twisting slightly so the indestructible chain wouldn't get stuck in her hair and Killian's eyes widened when it hit against the front of her shirt – team-branded and blue and probably not quite perfect for whatever kind of moment they were having.

"I like it," he mumbled, thumb tracing over her collarbone and across the front of her shirt and Emma forgot all the reasons she'd been exhausted just a few minutes before.

They moved slowly, like they were trying to memorize each other all over again, a new memory for a new space and a new start and Emma didn't notice the pillow under her head until hours later, somewhere in the realm of the middle of the night, tugging it out with bleary eyes.

"What is that?" Killian asked, kissing along her temple when he pulled her against his chest and Emma hummed in response.

"The one thing I unpacked," she answered and there was a sense of wonder in his stare that seemed to settle in Emma's ribcage.

Killian smiled at her, slow and lazy and comfortable and he chuckled softly when her fingers found the ring around her neck, twisting the band between her thumb and forefinger. She'd done it almost as soon as the first box came into the apartment, pulling the pillow out and putting it in the middle of the bed, letting her fingers trail across the blue edges and the Rangers emblem stitched across the front.

He stared at her for another moment and Emma pulled her lips back behind her teeth waiting for him to say something, anything.

She was glad she did.

"Welcome home, Swan," Killian whispered, ducking his head to kiss her once more and they didn't ever get much sleep, but it didn't really matter.

She'd found her way home.