@thesschesthair was like “here’s a CS prompt” and I was like “Well seeing as how thinking about this made my stomach swoop…”
“Aw, Swan, do you find me handsome?” Killian asks, grinning at the mug.
Emma does her best not to roll her eyes, going back to the counter to clean up the spilled coffee grounds. She almost regrets buying the mug on a whim (if it made her smile, it definitely would make him smile), but she does, on occasion, like stroking his ego – especially when it usually means he strokes something in return. “I married you, didn’t I?” she retorts, sweeping the mess into the sink and rinsing it down the drain.
He sounds amused, his voice muffled slightly by its proximity to the mug. “The truth comes out, you only love me for my looks.”
She scoffs, turning on her heel and giving his ear a tweak as she passes him. He makes a noise of complaint and she appeases him by pressing a kiss on the crown of his head before heading into the laundry room. It’s Killian’s day to do it, but he always forgets to take her bras out before swapping things into the dryer and while he denies purposely destroying her lingerie so she doesn’t have any to wear, she doesn’t want to take the risk. There’s also a few other delicates that need air drying, so she takes care of that too, leaving the rest for him to take care of later while she’s at work.
Emma’s turning, with her arms full of bras and lace-back shirts, when her husband swoops down and kisses the living daylights out of her. She drops the clothes in favor of throwing her arms around his neck and he lifts her off her feet. There’s words between kisses, she thinks, she’s a little too dazed to recognize more than “perfect” “woman” “bloody” and “marvelous” and much too interested in this new turn of events to try and piece together what he could mean.
Killian sets her on top of the washing machine and a wicked thought crosses her mind, but before she can make any suggestions, he’s cupping her face with his hand and looking at her like she’s put the damn moon in the sky. “Wow,” she breathes. “Good morning to you, too.”
“You are a tricky little minx, my love, but the coffee mug was perfect.”
Emma giggles, giddy from his burst of affection and the loving way he’s tucking her hair behind her ear. “Man, I should make you coffee more often if this is how you’ll react.”
One eyebrow twitches. “I’d hope it’s not more than once a year, love, we do need to make sure you rest.”
She opens her mouth to respond, then closes it as it dawns on her that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Killian?”
“I actually don’t believe it’s possible, though there are twins of course, but I’m more than happy to give you all the children you could possibly want–Swan?”
Thoroughly puzzled now, Emma gently pushes him aside so she can slide down off the washer and goes back to the kitchen. His new mug sits empty on the table and she picks it up, examining it much more closely than she had in the store.
‘You’re going to be a daddy.’
Her eyes close and her heart seizes. “Oh, Killian…”
I didn’t know.
“You didn’t know.”
He’s right behind her and he sounds so disappointed and she can’t stand that note in his voice, the neglected one that whispers of lost hopes and bitter dreams. “I wouldn’t have bought it if I did. I’m so…”
Killian presses a kiss to her forehead, shushing her softly. “Don’t apologize, darling. I should have guessed it wasn’t your intention, you’re much more blunt and to the point about these sorts of things. You did practically scent out your engagement ring and demand I propose to you, after all.”
“I did not,” she says, but she’s laughing a little. “I’m still sorry I got your hopes up.”
He kisses her again and she tucks herself into his embrace. “I’m sorry too,” he says, and that’s how she knows this hurts him more than he lets on.
Emma tilts her head up, considering him. “Well… we’ve been trying, haven’t we?” she asks. At Killian’s inquiring look, she dares a small smile. “No reason we can’t try again now, right?”
He smiles and she hopes it won’t be long before he loses the wistful air about him. She does hate to disappoint.
The next time she uses the mug in the morning, she puts a sticky note on the outside, “Seriously this time, I promise”, and sits right on the edge of the bed to watch as the words sink in for her sleep-addled pirate.
It All Starts With a Dance 