Puffs of steam clouded Emma's vision with every step she took. With her nose blocked and stuffy and altogether useless since the day before, Emma found the constant forced exhalation through her mouth to be increasingly irritating. Her steps were hard and purposeful, her only way to release the energy of her frustration at receiving the call about a distance in the woods that morning.

The forest itself was calming; birds chirping, the occasional squirrel skittering by. And her partner had taken to giving her the silent treatment after she'd pressed him—yet again—about his activities in the year without her. To his credit, Hook had stayed true to his vague account and effortlessly deflected her line of questioning. It was only until her annoyance at his suspicious behavior (and her exasperation with the sickly state of her physical being) had caused her to practically yell at him that he withdrew. It was unfair, she could admit. But with neither one willing to be first to mend their—for lack of a better word—friendship, they remained quiet.

Twenty minutes into their trek, Emma felt the tell-tale signs of a sneezing fit. She stopped walking, causing Hook to nearly collide into her, and fished desperately into her coat pocket for one of the many tissues that occupied it. Before she could pull it out, she involuntarily (and sharply) inhaled. Emma covered her face as she sneezed several times in a row.

"Bless you," she thought she heard Hook mutter from behind her. She blew her nose as delicately as possible before turning around.

"Sorry?"

"I said," he emphasized, already starting to stride past her, "bless you."

Emma was surprised by the gesture, so innocuous and yet, for a lonely lost girl who spent most of her life fighting for attention, his words felt like a grand kindness. "Thank—" she began to say, her gaze tenderly locked to the back of his head. But then she heard a faint humming and, unable to pin point where the sound came from, she swiftly pulled out her firearm and leaned against the closest tree.

Hook sensed her unease and drew his sword, aiming it in the same direction Emma had fixed her own weapon.

"What is it?" he whispered, looking in all directions for a possible threat.

"Don't you hear that?" After a beat, the noise picked up again, this time more melodiously. It echoed throughout the forest, silencing every woodland creature in proximity. Emma brushed against Hook's arm accidentally, their eyes meeting at the contact. This time the music became much louder, engulfing the space around them until the deafening hymn caused them to break apart. "What the hell was that?" Emma let out, suddenly out of breath.

"I've no idea," Hook responded, in a daze of his own. "What do you say we keep moving?"

She nodded in agreement, placing her gun back in it's holster before continuing their journey.

.

Ruby sighed as she looked out the window of the diner longingly, wishing to be outside on a beautiful spring day such as this. She imagined the wind combing through her hair as she ran, her claws digging into the dirt roads on the edge of town, her senses alive and—

"Those counters aren't going to clean themselves," Granny stated in passing, stacks of dirty cups and plates in her hands. Ruby simply rolled her eyes, resuming her work. She glanced at the customers bustling about, all scattered about the establishment, finishing their meals before enjoying a rare Saturday without a demon or witch or evil queen to defeat.

She watched as Snow affectionately rubbed her belly, describing what she felt to her husband sitting across from her. Ruby grinned at the sight, putting the damp rag down with every intention of joining her dear friend, until she heard a distant tune playing, it's volume increasing with each passing second. She observed that everyone in the diner heard it too, and, once the music was audible enough, they all recognized it.

Granny groaned, a reflection of the generally shared feeling of her patrons. "One hot chocolate with cinnamon, one black coffee," she told Ruby, already anticipating the new couple's orders.

As Ruby grabbed the coffee pot, the door bells chimed, announcing the arrival of the sheriff and the resident pirate. Emma and Hook tried to hide their smiles as they suddenly became aware of dozens of pairs of eyes boring into them. "Can we help you?" Hook asked, his tone severe enough to make most of the townspeople to resume their business.

He reluctantly let go of Emma's hand and headed towards a table at the back as Emma mouthed that she'd get their drinks before joining him. "So what's it this time?" Ruby asked, a mixture of playful bitterness and scandalous curiosity. "Did he pop the question?"

"Please," Emma scoffed, her reddening cheeks giving her away. "We just, I don't know, decided to move in together," she admitted quickly. "No big deal." And then it made sense, the music and their beaming expressions.

Before Ruby could tease her further, Granny slide over two cups of hot liquid, all while staring pointedly at her granddaughter. "Ready to go," she told Emma before mumbling under her breath, "at least one of us can stop gossiping long enough to do our job."

.

The bed creaked under their slow movements, ragged panting and interrupted moans filling the air. Hook hovered above her, kissing every section of exposed flesh. Emma writhed beneath him, angling her hips to give him better access while her hands gripped at his biceps. "Swan," he grunted, lips inches away from her own. "You feel amazing."

She grinned wickedly, fingers curling around his thick hair. For all his constant need to make a cheeky remark and inability to let a snarky comment slide, Hook rarely spoke during sex. Too focused on her, on the way she reacted to him; so insistent that actions spoke louder than words. But Emma couldn't deny the thrill that his rough voice inspired within her on the precious instances when he did feel the urge to make his thoughts known.

"You're not so bad yourself," she breathed, nibbling at his earlobe. Hook lifted himself on his forearms, affixing her with a devilish smirk.

"Darling," he growled. "I've only just gotten started."

He buried his face at the hollow of her neck, lightly nipping at her pulse. Then, the familiar tune that seemed to accompany them at all hours of the day started playing once more. This was nothing new; they'd gotten used to it at this point. Hook continued his ministrations until he heard the front door to their apartment slam harshly shut. They paused abruptly, brows furrowed in concern.

"What the blazes was—"

"Hook!"

At the booming voice of David's angry call, the pair frantically searched for their clothes, able to make out his assertive footfalls as he paced in their living room.

"Not today, pirate," David exclaimed from the base of the staircase. "Not with my daughter, not while I'm around."

Within minutes, they were dressed and, aside from their tousled and tangled hair, were presentable enough to pass into the living room, Hook keeping a safe distance from the prince. "David, what are you doing here? Is the baby okay?"

He respectfully averted his gaze as Emma continued to adjust her blouse and flattened her golden strands. "No, no, everything's fine," he assured, heart rate evening out. "I was just walking by when I heard... your, your," David struggled to say before blurting out, "theme song." Hands firmly placed on his hips, he lowered is head. "I just know that, whenever it plays, something's going on between you two."

"Aye, mate," Hook responded slyly. "A rather large something, if I do say so myself."

.

.