A brief look at Killian's POV after Emma comes out of the ice caves.
Rated G
~1000 words
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She’s in his arms at last, falling from the narrow tunnel towards her father, who helps her stand as she reaches for Killian.
She reaches for him.
Her skin is frozen as his hand finds her back, tugging down the thin shirt she wears beneath her jacket. The leather did almost nothing to keep her warm, a fact that’s obvious enough based on the blueish tint of her lips when he pulls away. He doesn’t want to, wants to feel the way her hands reach into his hair and pull him closer to her, but her father is here, and so is Elsa, and she needs to get home and warm up.
She stumbles, and all thoughts leave his mind as he hoists her into his arms, letting her curl her own around his neck, reveling in the feel of her frozen nose pressed against his throat.
She sits heavily, groaning as Elsa and David wrap thick blankets around her shoulders and Henry offers her hot chocolate, and her shaky fingers move to adjust. He thinks she’ll pull away, expects her to release his hand, but her fingers spread, letting his own lace into hers so that her hand is in his.
He thought she would pull away, and he’s as frozen as she is at the feeling of her fingers squeezing tightly over his hand, his heart nearly stopping as she so plainly and openly lets him comfort her.
When the lights flicker on, Killian doesn’t think before standing quickly, hurrying towards the bathroom and grabbing for the small gadget that can heat the room and pointing it towards her. She nods, praising him for his find.
He returns to her, letting his arm fall over her shoulder atop the blanket, hoping that the weight of it will warm her even more. He feels her shiver against him violently, unable to get warm, and he wants nothing more than to pull her into his lap, into his arms, and squeeze her against his chest until her shivering stops.
He keeps thinking she’ll shove him away, expecting her walls to shoot up quickly after her near-death experience and once the adrenaline fades, but she doesn’t. He feels her head fall heavily onto his collarbone, her chilled forehead meeting the skin of his neck and then lightly nuzzling closer, seeking the warmth of his flesh. He doesn’t think before pulling her closer in response, wanting nothing more than to warm her after almost losing her to the cold. He has to remind himself that she isn’t his to lose.
And despite that truth, he doesn't think before slipping his hand up and down along her blanket-covered back, hoping the friction will help, and she falls even more heavily into his arms. Her hand is on his hook, holding it tightly as if trying to ground herself. She doesn’t resist him as he pulls her even closer. When her mother returns to the apartment, it’s as if the focus is removed from her, and he feels her breathing becoming more even as she lets out a heavy sigh. The chattering in her jaw has stopped, and she falls more heavily into his hold, her face hiding in his chest and seeking the warmth between his open collar. He drops his mouth to the top of her head, pressing a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to her hair because he simply can’t stop himself.
It’s as if the rest of the room has melted away as her chill melts as well, no one here but the two of them as she settles finally in his grip and lets him kiss her hair again more boldly, lets him allow his hand to linger along her spine and her arm and into her hair. It feels as though hours have passed, and he knows she should get into her warm bed, remove her boots and her chilled leather jacket and allow herself to rest, but she never moves. Henry goes to visit Regina, David takes Elsa to Granny’s to get a room, Mary Margaret puts baby Neal to bed, and Emma and Killian stay put. She never lifts her head from his chest.
Finally, his feet begin to tingle under his weight as he kneels beside her, and he has to shift if he wants to keep his legs. She protests softly, seeming to think better of it as she straightens and clears her throat, and he offers her his hand.
“It seems to be time for bed, love,” he suggests quietly, being met with her heavy sigh.
“I can’t sleep,” she admits in an almost-whisper. “I usually stay up until I can’t keep my eyes open.”
“Ah,” he says in understanding, because he’s been there. The horrors of his own imagination are enough for him to avoid shutting his eyes from time to time, though it’s gotten better. “I see. Perhaps the couch would be more comfortable, then?”
The chair she’s been sat in couldn’t be that uncomfortable, but he can imagine that she would rather stretch her legs or lounge a bit more rather than sitting stiffly. She nods in silent agreement, slowly standing and groaning as she does, her hands landing on her lower back as she shakes her head. He guides her down, and just as he considers going towards the door and leaving her be, she grabs at his hand and squeezes.
“Stay for a little while?” she asks in a whisper, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before dropping to the floor just as she drops his hand. It’s as if she thinks he’ll say no, and he almost laughs.
“Of course, love,” he agrees, sitting beside her and barely waiting before opening his arms again and letting her fall to his chest. She sighs heavily, content as she seems to release the stress from her lungs.
“Thank you,” she whispers as he lets his hand dance up and down along her back some more, pulling at the blanket that they lie beneath and letting it drape over her shoulders.
He isn’t sure exactly what she means, but it doesn't matter as her cheek nuzzles into the skin above his collarbone, her hair tickling his neck, her fingers gripping the leather of his vest. He whispers, “Always,” but he isn’t even sure she hears him, her breathing becoming even and deep as she slips comfortably to sleep.
