hi there, how about a "One character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/ etc." with captain swan?
“And then?” Emma urges him from behind the wooden folding panel, excitement evident in her voice.
Killian chuckles. “Then, I knocked two out when they came below deck, hands tied behind my back. Fought my way up after cutting the rope and nicking a sword. I had the captain on his knees in no time, sword to his throat and control of his ship in my hands. That’ll teach him to capture the crew of the Jolly.”
He admits, he has quite a bit of fun regaling his tales, especially to her. Even if her immediate response is almost always–
“How much of that is true?”
“I assure you, love,” he replies, putting hand to his heart even though she can’t see, “I would never lie to you.”
Emma hums in what he knows to be mock disbelief, but he can hear her amusement. It’s a game she plays, teasing him. He enjoys it quite a bit.
Killian fiddles with a trinket of a wooden swan on her dresser, turning it over and over in his hand before setting it back down. He looks up to see himself in the small mirror that hangs on her wall, and notes, not for the first time, how out of place his rougish character seems in the pristine room. He isn’t allowed to be in here, in the Princess’ bedchambers; it isn’t proper. But propriety left the equation the first time Emma kissed him in an alleyway behind a tavern, so there’s that.
He never would have thought, in any life, that the paths of a Pirate Captain and a Princess would ever cross, let alone become so intimately entangled.
“You sure you don’t want to join me at the ball?” his princess asks.
“Though I do appreciate the offer, I prefer my head attached to my neck.”
“Let it be known that the terror of the seven seas, the notorious Captain Hook, fears the Prince Consort,” Emma snorts. It is so unladylike, so far–he’s sure–from the mannerisms that would have been taught to her growing up. There is something to be said about this, the bits she hides from the rest of the kingdom but that are given so freely to him. He smiles.
“It’s your mother that terrifies me, darling.”
Emma laughs, and it warms him from the inside. He’s a fool to have fallen in love with a Princess, one who is fierce and intelligent, one who renders him useless with a touch, one whom he has no future with, would never truly be deserving of.
“So?” Emma says, piercing his thoughts. He hears a rustle of fabric and turns around, finding her in a gown of gold-ish beige, beads catching in the candlelight so it looks like she’s glowing.
He tries to speak but no words come out. She looks enchanting, he wants to tell her, riveting, like a glimmer of light in a long, dark, existence. (His, specifically, but perhaps he shouldn’t get too carried away.)
Emma watches him curiously, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.
“You’ve rendered me speechless,” he gets out, a soft laugh swallowing up the last syllable. She rolls her eyes but grins anyway.
She hasn’t put on her high heeled shoes yet so she’s still a foot shorter than him when he steps closer. He reaches out his hand to the back of her neck, tracing the delicate golden chain she’s wearing. He gently tugs it out of the place where it’s caught itself in the handiwork of the strap of her dress.
The pendant is a gemstone, rare and unheard of in this land. It is the exact shade of green that matches her eyes. He’d gotten it for her on the occasion of her birthday a few months prior. He can’t help the way the side of his mouth quirks up.
Killian rights the direction of the necklace and stops his hand just shy of the pendant, thumb stroking her collarbone slowly. The air of lightness has subsided and when he looks up, he finds Emma fixated on him, gaze intense and breaths shallow.
“Truly, you look stunning.”
When she kisses him, it’s deliberately slow and deep as though she’s attempting to slow down time. He knows, he’s guilty of it too. His hooked hand encircles her waist and he presses her closer, wishing this could be a permanent embrace, and not one shared in secret behind locked doors and in shadowed alleys under disguises.
“This thing would be much more fun with you, Killian,” she murmurs, nudging his nose with hers once she breaks the kiss. They both know he can’t attend a royal gathering, not with the crimes of thievery and disservice to the crown on his head.
“Aye, I’m loath to miss an evening with you,” he rasps out. “But I’ll meet you after, and we’ll make sure you have some fun, hm?”
He feels her smirk pressed up against his lips when he kisses her.