Description: Killian sees his fiance making breakfast, and soon they hunger for more, which eventually leads to the shower… (Canon/scene divergence from the pancake scene of 6.18).
Rating: E (because, reasons…)
Word Count: ~2600
Author’s Note: I know, know…Everyone and their mom is doing this, but @killythecowardlypirate ask me to “do the thing,” and so…here’s my version. It’s a “what if Snow didn’t interrupt” version. And yes, Chantal, syrup is included… I mean, what’s pancakes without syrup, amirte? lol This is unbetad, because I just needed to get it out, and it’s twice as long as I intended it to be. Smut, humor and feels: just what you come to expect from yours truly! Enjoy!!
Killian quietly wrapped his arms around his fiancé as she flipped another pancake onto an already towering stack. He nuzzled her ear, his trimmed facial hair tickling her exposed appendage. “Something smells delicious,” he whispered.
Emma smiled from ear to ear, the heat from Killian’s body radiating from behind her. “It’s just from a box…”
He practically growled as he responded, “I wasn’t talking about the pancakes..”
Emma turned swiftly in his arms, taking no time to lock his lips with her own. He must have recently brush his teeth, because she could still taste spearmint along his tongue. Her hand travelled from his scruffy chin, to his slightly exposed chest (he was in the middle of dressing himself and didn’t finish before walking down to the kitchen). After exploring each other’s mouth for what seemed like an eternity, she broke the contact, looking into his cobalt blue eyes.
She must have been staring far too long, because Killian broke her concentration, asking, “What?”
“I’m just…happy. Still surprises me sometimes.”
He just smiled. “Aye, love. Me, too.” Killian then leaned down for another kiss, this one more gentle than the previous one. As he lifted his lips from hers, he ask, “So, should I look forward to this every morning? My loving wife, dressed in naught but her black silk robe, making me breakfast?”
15) things you said with too many miles between us
Sherlock knows something is wrong as soon as he picks up the phone, and hears John’s breathing. It’s just a little too controlled.
“John?” Sherlock’s fingers tense around his mobile. “Are you alright?”
A forced laugh. “Good evening to you, too.”
It’s not an answer. Sherlock knows this. Sherlock also knows John knows this.
“Is it Harry?” he guesses.
John sighs. “…Hm. Yes and no. I- Harry’s doing… doing really well, actually, it’s just-” He sighs again. “Being back here again.”
John trails off for so long that Sherlock momentarily fears their connection has been lost.
Then, a miracle: John coughs, and his voice sparks back into life again.
“Just memories,” he says. Sherlock can picture the shrug that is paired so often with his words and, oh God, how he misses him.
“I understand,” Sherlock replies. He closes his eyes, and tries to picture John in the room with him. “Let’s… stay on the line? Until you sleep? You don’t need to talk.”
John laughs. “Jesus, I miss you,” he says. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can’t wait to be home.”
Sherlock silently thrills at that, that 221B is now home, and not the home town John is currently in.
They chat for hours, just the tiny, mundane things from their days. It makes Sherlock smile to hear it. He only stops when John’s voice fades away into sleep. He hangs up with the thought: Come home, soon. Please.
Doing johnlock (& now hoopkins too <3) prompts from this lovely list even though I’ve got loads of other prompts to fill lmao sorry but these are so lovely for more inspiration <3