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Her dress is a tiny lace thing, deep red and almost certainly slightly shorter than one would expect a mother of a thirteen-year-old boy to own. Emma bought it on a whim, its color catching her eye as she maneuvered around the crowed department store searching for some last-minute Christmas gifts. The dress, itself, had been priced a little out of her preferred range, but after the year she had just experienced, Emma reasoned she deserved to splurge on herself a bit. Besides, she had thought with a grin, she could easily spin it as some sort of gift for her pirate. He always compliments her when she wears red.
Judging by the way he is placing open-mouthed kisses up the column of her neck, his fingers playing with the hem the aforementioned dress, her earlier musings were not misplaced.
“We could stay in tonight…” Killian murmurs against her skin, hand and hook nudging her backwards toward the bed, “…begin this new year in a rather pleasurable fashion.”
He cants his hips against hers for emphasis. Pirate.
Had it been any other night, he might have held sway over her; however, tonight is not any such night, and his argument falls on deaf ears. Ignoring the wave of heat pooling low in her belly, Emma breaks their embrace, earning a strangled whine from Killian. She ducks out of his arms and makes her way to check on her makeup and hair in the mirror, hoping it isn’t too mussed from his ministrations.
“I already promised my parents that we’d make some sort of appearance at the party. They’re starting to complain that we’re spending too much time holed up in here, and not enough time, you know, interacting with the real world.”
In the immediacy of their return from the Underworld, it was true that both she and Killian had tucked themselves away from the rest of the world in an effort to heal and find forgiveness in the arms of one another. Sharing a heart didn’t erase the wounds – visible or not – they had inflicted on one another while intoxicated with darkness, and many long nights were spent parsing through the pain with broken apologies and shed tears. That had been months ago, though, and she and Killian still both gravitate toward the comforts of their home instead of outside.
The permanence of a home, the newness of owning something that is totally hers, is a feeling that Emma wants to revel in, and revel she (they) do. They marathon television shows and movies on Netflix in their living room, cuddled on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn between them, sometimes alone other times joined by Henry. They order take-out from Granny’s, and toss onion rings into each other’s mouths from across the dining room table. They even make use of the kitchen, experimenting with recipes recommended by her mother and Regina, more often succeeding in their attempts rather than failing. (Much to Henry’s relief.) They had even offered to host the Christmas festivities, inviting their entire Charming-Mills extended family.
(Emma had begrudgingly passed along an invitation to Mr. Gold and Belle, much more for Henry’s sake than hers, which Gold had flatly declined. Belle still made an appearance, bearing wrapped boxes and a wide smile. So strange is this family Emma that has collected.)
They do leave the house though, and for reasons having nothing to do with needing more groceries. She goes to work, walks Henry to school, visits her parents’ loft, and lunches at Granny’s. Killian spends time in in the library, working or researching with Belle. He even visits the harbor every now and then to check on the ship and do whatever former pirates do. Still, there exist plenty of activities to keep her and Killian indoors, ones that she thoroughly enjoys and cannot do around prying eyes.
“And here I though that it was expected for newlyweds to spend their days hiding from the world,” Killian responds with a wicked grin, blue eyes meeting hers in the mirror.
Emma returns his smile, momentarily flashing back in memory to their rushed wedding in the Underworld, Liam stumbling over his words as he pronounced them man and wife. “They are, but maybe this newlywed wants to show off her devilishly handsome pirate husband for once.”
Normally, Emma loathes to fuel his already swollen ego – if they man knosws anything, it is that he is attractive – but she is willing to let it slide for tonight. Her mother, longing for the festivities of the Enchanted Forest, has decided that Storybrooke’s New Year’s Eve Party will have dress code. Ladies in dresses, men in suits – it is meant be a classy affair. At least, as classy as a party held in Granny’s Diner can muster. She makes a mental note to thank her mother, because the dress finally provides reason for Emma to see Killian dressed in a nice, well-tailored suit.
And damn, could her pirate pull off a suit.
Not that he wanted to wear one – he had protested for a good while, right up until he saw the glazed expression on her face the moment he stepped out of the dressing room. That afternoon had ended quite enjoyably, if she could say so herself. If she weren’t so hell-bent on getting her parents off their back, she would be gunning for a repeat performance. He looks that good. He continues to refuse to wear a tie, but she doesn’t mind. The chest hair is equally appealing.
“You’re right that I am devilishly handsome, however you’re wrong on one thing, Swan. It is not I that people will be fawning over tonight.” He waves his eyebrow suggestively, but there’s a shadow of something in his eyes that Emma can’t quite catch. She writes it off as her rejecting his advances.
“Later. I promise,” Emma says as she threads her fingers through his own. She presses a chaste kiss to his lips, and before he can respond, she pulls away and tugs him toward the bedroom door. “Now, let’s go!”
They opt to walk to Granny’s, noting the niceness of the night and their desire to both imbibe on whatever drinks may be present. The air outside is surprisingly warm for late-December in Maine, and Emma decides to forego her winter coat. If she does get cold later in the night, she reasons she could steal Killian’s suit jacket. He wouldn’t mind. Killian likes when she wears his clothing, be it his leather jacket or the button-ups she steals out of the laundry basket when she’s in a particular mood to tease. He already seems riled up enough as is, and the view of her in suit jacket and sinfully short dress may just do him in. She bites her lips at the thought.
Emma’s heels clack against the concrete as they fall into step on the sidewalk, slowly ambling along to their destination. What should only be a short trek lingers on as Killian pulls her to a stop every now and then, sometimes to point out a particular constellation of interest, but mostly to grant her feverish kisses, his mouth warm and insistent against her own. It surprises her a bit, his passion. It’s not something she normally minds – Killian is far too fantastic of a kisser to raise any complaints – but there’s something strange about his current persistence that niggles at her instincts, something informing her that Killian just feels off. She pushes the thought to the back of her mind, intent on making the best of the night.
The diner is already crowded when they arrive, and they are greeted with cheers from her parents, Robin, Regina, and Belle. They give her family a soft wave and move through the crowd to join them. The diner is loud and raucous, and it makes Emma smile. There truly is something wonderful about finally being able to celebrate something in Storybrooke. After Wicked Witches, Snow Queens, alternate realities, two Dark Ones, and a trip to the Underworld, the fact that they made to this day is a miracle. Emma’s heart pangs at the thought that they almost all didn’t make it here, and she reaches over to grab his hand. He, in turn, kisses the crown of her head. Regina makes a comment about how they should “keep it PG for once,” and they roll their eyes.
It feels good to be back.
Somehow during the night, however, she gets separated from Killian. Emma can’t recall when or how, and she feels a bubble of concern brewing. It’s silly really, because she’s a grown woman and can be without her significant other at a party, but still. She lost him three times in the same year, so she forgives herself a little. Emma seeks out Belle, the last person she had seen Killian speaking too. They had been in some discussion about a book they had both been reading, one Emma shared no interest in, so Emma had excused herself talked with Tinkerbelle for quite awhile about an a sundry of topics.
“He was getting a drink the last time I saw him. I’m sure he didn’t go far.” Belle explains when Emma finally finds her.
“Uh, well, thanks. You’re probably right.”
Belle sends Emma an understanding smile when she says this, and Emma feels a wave of gratitude. Her and Belle have never exactly been friends, but she appreciates the support and forgiveness the woman has shown both her and Killian.
He’s outside when she finds him, sitting at the table where they shared their second (third?) real kiss all those months ago. It’s a similar scene to that moment, him outside and alone with a drink in his hand, but he looks far broodier and more intense than he did then, staring at his glass with such intensity that it may shatter. She slides in the chair next to him, but he doesn’t look up in acknowledgement. The only way she knows that he knows she is there is by the flexing of his hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“I shouldn’t be here, Swan.” Killian’s voice sounds so heavy, so very different that the lighthearted tilt he used earlier with her when they were dressing.
“Why not?”
Killian throws back the glass before answering, killing the rum. If the generous gulp of alcohol burns, he does not let it show. “I’m not wanted here.”
“Killian, that’s not true at all.” Emma reaches over to touch him, but he flinches. The act hurts her, and he realizes this quickly, moving to grab her hand in apology. He still doesn’t look at her though.
“That may not be true for you an your family,” he begins, brow furrowed in frustration, “but it certainly is the truth for the rest of the town. I am, after all, the one who nearly doomed them all to hell.”
“You’re projecting!” Emma protests. He has to be projecting, she thinks. She knows he struggles with accepting his past, both his actions as a pirate and as the Dark One, but they talked about this. He made the right choices in the end, and vows to continue to make them in the future. “You’re a hero. What happened back then, you’re past it. We’ve moved on.”
He smiles sadly at her and shakes his head. “You may have forgiven me, love, and for every day that I am alive, I will be thankful, albeit undeserving. And I am undeserving, at least in the eyes of many in this town, and the people here are not as forgiving as you or your family.”
“You don’t know that…”
“Aye, love, but I do.” Killian laughs, but it is a hollow sort of sound that makes her heart break. “As I was looking to refill my drink, one of the dwarves had the gall to ask me by which exact table it was that I crushed Merlin’s heart.”
“What.”
Emma’s blood runs cold, and anger begins to bubble up inside of her. She mentally tries to determine which of the dwarves would have said something so cruel to him, tonight of all nights. It’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment. Killian paid for his mistakes – died for them.
Strangely, Killian doesn’t seem to upset at this. Maybe at the situation, but none of his anger seems to be directed at the dwarf whose face she wants to punch in. She is about to question this, until—
“No worries, Swan, it’s not the first time anyone has said anything.”
That hits her hard.
The realization that there may be reasons outside of simply enjoying their new home that Killian has for wanting to ensconce two of them away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world begins to creep in. She wracks her mind for the memories of the last time Killian and she went out together, piecing together memories and moments. They visited the Jolly, but the docks were mostly empty. They would walk together to the library. She gasps audibly when she realizes that Killian has never once joined her at Granny’s all those times she went with Henry or her parents. He even declined Robin’s invitation to go to the Rabbit Hole last week. Emma kind of hates herself for not noticing this trend sooner.
“Why haven’t you told me any of this?”
“There was no use in upsetting you. I’ve gotten quite used to it, you know. They didn’t think I was good enough for you or this town before, and I certainly gave them more reason not to before…” Killian’s voice breaks, and she knows he’s fighting his own demons, that somewhere deep inside, he agrees with them. Emma feels the tiny pinpricks of tears fighting for release in own eyes. Killian composes himself much faster than she, and he continues on with a sarcastic smile. “You’ll be proud, love. I’ve proven myself to be a better man, as of late. None of the naysayers have had a single hook imbedded into their skulls, or a punch thrown their way. I walked it off, like a hero does, yes? Still doesn’t make spending the night at this fete more enjoyable. That’s why I came out here. I do apologize for distressing you.”
Emma gasps as another wave of realization dawns on her. “The whole thing with you kissing and trying to get us to stay in bed earlier…that was you trying to avoid everyone, wasn’t it?”
“Not originally, no,” Killian does that ‘scratching behind his ear’ thing that Emma finds so endearing, the action melting her heart. A light flush crosses his cheeks and he smiles. “I wasn’t going to ask you not to go, and I knew you wanted me here. After everything you’ve done for me, I could never deny you that. Though when you walked out in that dress…you look like a bloody siren, love…the selfish man in me thought that if I could convince you to miss this event for other, more pleasurable reasons…well, that wouldn’t be all bad, would it?”
“No. It wouldn’t. But, Killian, I need you to open up to me about these things. No more walls, okay? You and me? We’re a team now, and I seem to recall you saying that we make a hell of a team.” Killian smiles when she recalls the words he said to her at the top of the beanstalk. Who knew then how far they’d come? She returns his smile, and continues, “If we want to continue being that good a team, you have to let me know if you don’t want to be somewhere or deal with someone. I won’t be upset, and it won’t ruin my night.”
She leans over to kiss him to deliver her point home. It takes a moment, but he responds in kind, lifting his hand to run his fingers through her hair.
He breaks the kiss to mumble against her skin, “I promise, love. I will even make it my resolution.”
Her lips quirk up at that. She had been explaining to him the traditions surrounding the holiday in this land. Though he was no stranger to celebrating a coming year, the resolutions were a new concept. She’s glad that he caught on quickly. She also doesn’t mind his resolution.
“And I resolve not to kill a dwarf.”
The tension previously in the air seems to be ebbing away, prompting her to make a joke. She still does want to punch whatever dwarf it was into oblivion, but she knows Killian will never tell her.
He’s a hero like that.
Suddenly, she hears a cheer, a loud cacophony of noises coming together from inside the diner to begin a countdown
“Ten…”
“It’s starting.”
Killian nudges her, “You should go in. Celebrate with your family.”
Emma shakes her head. There’s one New Year’s Eve tradition she still hasn’t caught him up to speed on. Besides, she still feels a little incensed at the unpleasant welcome Killian received. He may be able to handle it, but it still doesn’t mean she can’t be protective. They take care of one another, her and him. Things may not be completely smooth yet, but they’ll get there. There’s a whole new year to work on it.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
She kisses him as the clock strikes twelve.