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That Awkward Moment When

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Killian and Emma lay in their bed, tangled together, Killian laying on his back and Emma resting her head on his chest. Emma let out a content sigh and pressed a kiss to Killian’s bare shoulder, feeling him run his hand up and down her arm in response.

Emma enjoyed these moments where it was just the two of them, after; something that was becoming more frequent, and didn’t require them to be quite as creative as they had when their relationship was blooming- between Emma living with her parents, brother, and son, Ingrid, then the three Witches and Rumplestiltskin’s plans for the author, the time they had alone was quite limited.

And then Emma was the Dark One, and then Killian had died, and they were in the Underworld, and then Killian was swept away to another realm- but finally, now, they were in their own house, in their own bed, and finally had the opportunity to take their time and enjoy simply being together afterwards, instead of quickly re-dressing and rushing to address whatever crisis was on their schedule that day.

And that’s where they lay now, Mary Margaret having convinced them to leave- there was nothing they could do, after all, not tonight, and she requested some time alone with her husband, so Emma had acquiesced, Henry had left with Regina, and then she and Killian were alone in their house.

Emma was reluctant to break the silence, but ever since Regina had revealed the “chemistry” between her and Gold (something Emma had never, ever wanted to know, or even think about), she couldn’t let go of it.

“Can you believe it? Regina and Gold?” she asked, almost absentmindedly, deep in thought.

“If that’s what you’re thinking about, love, I’m not sure I did my job right,” Killian responded, teasingly.

“Smartass,” Emma said, poking his side. “I just…didn’t see it coming at all. Poor Belle. And how does that even work? Gold is like, one of the grossest people I can think of. And the whole Evil Queen getup? I just…” She broke off with a shudder, and Killian chuckled.

“Aye, it is a rather…unpalatable union,” he agreed, running his hand through her hair.

“And then how does that work? Does that mean Regina has… you know? Or just the Evil Queen? I just, all around, do not enjoy this development.”

And while Emma was thinking about how easily the Evil Queen apparently fell into bed with someone- she remembered Graham, and now Gold, just people to scratch an itch- she remembered that Regina had hired Killian to kill Cora, resulting in their temporary alliance.

She wasn’t stupid- Killian was extremely attractive, and from what he had told her and what she had gleaned from his stories, he wasn’t exactly a monk while he was seeking his revenge- far from it, actually. And Emma didn’t care- that was in the past, everything he’d done had brought him to her, and 300 years of sleeping around had given him quite an impressive skill set that she greatly enjoyed. Besides, she wasn’t exactly a blushing virgin either.

But she was intensely curious- would the Evil Queen have attempted to seduce Captain Hook?

She should just ask him, she tells herself. Out of all the things in their pasts, and with all of the things they’ve overcome together, this shouldn’t be what is over the line. So she decides to go for it.

“I have…a weird question,” Emma said haltingly, running her hand absentmindedly along Killian’s chest.

Killian made a low, grumbly noise that Emma assumed meant, “ask away,” but found herself lost for words. How was she supposed to phrase this question? Come out and be blunt? (‘Did you ever have sex with Regina?’ made it sound like she was jealous, which she wasn’t). Tactfully drive the conversation in that direction? (‘So while we’re on the subject of Regina and Gold, would you happen to have any personal experience in that area?’ didn’t exactly feel right either). How would that even go?

Apparently, she had taken too long to pause, and Killian had noticed.

“What do you wish to know, Swan?” he asked. “I’m an open book, love.”

She decides to just ask.

“Did you and Regina ever, uh, you know…back when…” she mumbles, making an effort to not look at him. ‘Smooth, Emma’, she thinks. ‘That wasn’t awkward at all.’

She feels Killian stiffen next to her, and his hand halts at the base of her skull, fingers tangled in her hair but no longer running his hand through her hair soothingly like he had been.

“I’ve done many things I’m not proud of in my life,” he starts, and she realizes that he thinks she’s going to be angry, or jealous, and she rushes to salvage the situation, leaning up on her elbow to look at him.

“I don’t care, Killian, I was just curious. Honestly. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she says, looking at him and noting how red the tips of his ears have gotten. “Its not like either of us are…inexperienced,” she says, pleased with herself for not saying something along the lines of, ‘I’ve taken my fair share of men home and you’ve fucked 300 years worth of women, babe’. “Whatever happened was in the past, and it got us here, “ Emma says, and she caresses his face briefly, and kisses his cheek before laying back down.

She feels Killian relax back into the pillows, and his hand resumes moving through her hair, and he plants a kiss on her temple.

“To answer your question, yes” he says, almost reluctantly. “I’m afraid at that point in my life I wasn’t particularly selective about my dalliances, and it was simply an added bonus to our arrangement. It was only once,” he says.

He chuckles, and adds, “Although, if the Evil Queen had her way, it would have been more than that. Quite a persistent one, she is. And not very subtle when asking for what she wants, either.”

Emma feels like there could be a potentially funny story there (funny for her, embarrassing for Regina and maybe Killian), but she doesn’t ask. Instead, she lets out a small laugh. “Well, you’re not half bad, so I can understand that.”

“Oi! ‘Not half bad?’ I seem to recall someone telling me I was ‘the best she’d ever had,’ once,” he says, smirking again and raising an eyebrow, challenging her to state otherwise.

He is, of course, referring to when she had gotten a little drunk after their return from the Underworld one night, and may or may not have confessed to him that he was the best partner she’d ever had in an attempt to change his mind after he politely informed her that while he appreciated her drunk advances, he was a gentleman and wouldn’t take advantage of her, established relationship or not. Of course, she had pouted a little and then promptly fallen asleep, waking up with a moderate hangover to see a glass of water on her nightstand and a sleeping Killian next to her.

She’s intentionally goading him, of course, partially because she didn’t mean to make him think about his darker days, and also because challenging him almost always led to another satisfying round, and who was she to turn that down?

She gives him a fake glare, slapping her hand lightly against his chest and muttering something about his ego, when Killian continues.

“While at the time, it may have been satisfying, it meant nothing to either of us. Nothing I shared with any of those women, Regina included, measures up to what we have, Swan,” he says, gently.

Emma’s heart melts, because she knows this; she feels the same way about her casual hookups, and the last thing she wanted him to feel was bad about it.

“I know, Killian,” she says, looking up at him. “I love you.” And then she’s kissing him, trying to put into the kiss everything she’s having trouble articulating, and he’s responding in kind, pulling her on top of him and running his hands along her body.

She’s congratulating her, at this point, time-honored technique, at challenging him into another round, when he pulls away and gives her an impish look.

“Well, there was something that the Queen was fond of, but I simply don’t know if you’d be able to handle it…” he trails off, and Emma feels the competitive streak in her come alive.

“Oh, yeah?” she says. “Why don’t you show me and we’ll find out,” she says suggestively, grinding her hips down onto him, and he groans, flipping them over so he’s on top of her.

“If you insist, love,” he whispers, voice deep, in her hear, and bites down on her neck, and Emma’s last thought before she gives herself over to him is that maybe her technique isn’t as subtle as she thinks it is.