Originally posted to Tumblr in response to a request for a drunk emma/killian trying to sneak back into the loft.

David is still up when the door creaks open around midnight. He expects to hear Emma's soft steps on the stairs retreating to the loft above, still unwilling to sleep in her own house with its dark memories so fresh for all of them. She's talked about selling it, but for now, she's reclaimed her old bedroom.

He's happy to have his daughter back and doesn't mind one bit. It's good to have her close again.

And at first, it's nice to hear her laughter echo through the quiet apartment, but the bang of the door and the sounds of two sets of footsteps stumbling across the floor isn't so nice. Not when the laughter abruptly cuts off and the sound of something else takes its place.

"You're going to wake my parents up," Emma hisses in what David suspects she thinks is a whisper but is anything but. Her words are lost in another fit of giggles and the shuffle of boots across the wood floors, their steps heavy and halting.

Killian's voice is too low to make out the words, but the tone carries and David suddenly wishes Emma had taken Killian with her to the big, empty house across town. Just because he's become friends with the reformed pirate doesn't mean he wants to listen to...whatever is going on out in his living room.

There's a clatter of a pan on the stove, following by a string of Killian's curses and more of Emma's laughter. David winces, glancing at Neil's crib to make sure his son is still asleep. Thankfully, he's inherited Snow's ability to sleep through anything, and the both of them remain out cold.

"Aye, Swan, if you find it so amusing make yourself your bloody grilled cheese." Killian's words are slurred, louder now. David sighs, glancing over at his sleeping wife and wondering just how long he can let this go on.

But Emma giggles again, and that makes David's mind up. Maybe if he just pulls the pillow over his head he won't have to listen to Killian and Emma...do whatever it is they're doing out in the kitchen.

Emma's laughter stops suddenly, quiet returning. It's a momentary relief as David settles back into his pillows, closing his eyes and trying to get comfortable. Maybe somewhere in their drunken state they've realized there are other people in the apartment, sleeping people.

A soft moan breaks through the silence and David's eyes snap open. Killian's voice follows, filled with far more lust than David wants to hear directed at his daughter. "If you can't keep quiet, darling, we can go back to the ship."

"There's no grilled cheese on the ship. I want grilled…" Emma's words are cut off, the rustle of clothing now audible, the creaking of the wood floor under shifting weight.

David throws his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing a discarded T-shirt to pull on before he confronts his daughter and her...pirate. Better to stop them now, while there's a chance they're still wearing clothes, than to let this go on any further. He can make Emma a damned grilled cheese himself and Killian can go back to his ship.

The smell of burning bread stops them before he does, and it's Emma who swears this time. "Look what you made me do," she says, but she doesn't sound the slightest bit upset. And when David finally steps into the light of the kitchen, blinking against the brightness and them, she's wrapped up in Killian's arms.

David clears his throat, folding his arms across his chest and waiting for them to realize he's standing there. It doesn't take more than a few seconds, Emma's eyes wide and her cheeks scarlet when she sees her father standing behind Killian. It takes the pirate a beat longer, but then he's staring at David with an apologetic smile while he scratches behind his ear with the hook. "Evening, mate," he says, casual as can be in spite of the tips of his ears being bright red.

"More like morning, isn't it?" David scowls at the position of Killian's hand, his palm still curved over Emma's backside. He removes it hastily, hazy blue eyes darting between Emma and David.

"Killian was just making me grilled cheese," Emma says when Killian remains silent, and it's almost comical how hard she's trying to keep her words from slurring. She's usually so still, but she's swaying on her feet in a way that makes him wonder just how much she's had to drink tonight.

"At midnight?"

"Granny's is closed," Emma replies with a huff, her composure slipping. "And Killian makes them better than I do." She tucks herself closer to the pirate's side, leaning her head on his shoulder. Killian's arm snakes back around her waist automatically.

"Is that a skill they teach in pirate school?" David asks with a raised brow to distract himself from the possessive curl of Killian's fingers on Emma's hip, the way his thumb moves almost absently over her.

"I don't think you want to know what skills i learned in pirate school, Dave." Killian smirks, his grasp tightening on Emma, a trace of the old swagger in the words. It has to be the rum, because David knows Killian likes to tease him, but Emma's shirt is half-unbuttoned and they're in his kitchen, for christ's sake.

"They teach you the one about making a clean getaway before the prince runs you through with his sword for manhandling his daughter?"

"Dad!" Emma blushes furiously, stepping around Killian to put herself between the two of them. "I'm sorry we woke you up. We'll be quieter, I promise." David doesn't miss how she reaches behind herself for Killian's hand, their fingers winding together. Her usually bright green eyes are clouded with liquor, but they're pleading, and dammit if it doesn't work like a charm.

"If you wake up your brother, you get to explain it to Mary Margaret," David finally says, scrubbing a palm over his face and glancing pointedly at the stove. "And just...the kitchen is for grilled cheese only, okay?"

"Not tacos?" Emma's lips curl into a mischievous smile, and dammit if David isn't the one to turn bright red this time.

"Goodnight, Emma. Killian." David turns on his heel and he isn't fleeing back to his bed and his wife and the pillow to yank over his ears.

In the morning, Emma won't look him in the eye, but she's wearing one of Killian's T-shirts and looks more relaxed than he's seen her since they drove the darkness out. She's sitting at the kitchen island nursing a coffee while her mother cooks breakfast, obviously hungover.

And Killian Jones is sitting on his couch, staring into his mug of tea like it might somehow start speaking to him.

"Morning," David says just a tad too loudly as he sinks down on the couch next to the captain, grinning madly. "The sun is so bright today. Isn't it great?"

Killian's only response is to glare at David instead of his tea.

"So last night." Killian winces, glancing over his shoulder at Emma before turning to face her father. He looks as though he's preparing himself for a firing squad, his shoulders tense and his jaw set, but he says nothing. "You two have a nice time?"

"I apologize we woke you," Killian says after a pause, his hook flashing in the sunlight as he nervously rubs it along his thigh. "I realize it's a bit...improper...that I stayed the night, but Emma…"

He's so flustered that David can't help but burst out laughing, even if the noise draws a curious glance from Emma. "It was good to hear her laugh."

"Aye."

"But Killian?" Bloodshot blues eyes meet his, Killian's face tense once more. "If I ever have to listen to you and Emma...in my kitchen again, know I still have my sword." Killian's gulp is audible, but David claps him on the shoulder as he rises, carefully keeping his smile hidden.

Emma moves back into her own house the next night.