Because that script tease got me thinking.
It seems they’ve done this for ages, planning and then splitting up in the middle of Main Street, going their separate ways on one mission or another. When he allows himself to truly think about it he’s stunned at how quickly it’s happened - there was no slow slide into this life in Storybrooke, no gradual build into their current mode of operation. He was thrown into it but none if it felt sudden; he slipped so easily into the role he’d scarcely realized how abruptly he’d arrived there.
He doesn’t regret a bit of it. Especially not with Emma at his side, though he is forced to part with her on this particular occasion. It’s just another piece of the puzzle, just another way they work together, and the knowledge that they’ll both retire to the same home, the same bed at the end of the evening makes it that much easier.
Truth be told, he likes it. He likes being useful, enjoys righting wrongs in a way that scratches the itch he felt as a young lieutenant, finally stepping into the shoes of the man he so desperately wishes to be. He feels he’s slowly getting there, an admission he hasn’t yet made to Emma - he plans on doing so soon, but it’s a strange thing, to have something driving him that isn’t directly related to his love for her, to want to be better for himself rather than someone else. He hadn’t realized it until he apologized to Belle, played back his words to her in his head over and over.
Perhaps he should speak to the Cricket after all.
Despite all that it’s still Emma, always Emma at the end of the day who truly centers him, and he steps away from her knowing they’ll be wrapped around each other soon enough, sweet and warm between their sheets.
“Hook,” she says, just as he’s stepping away.
When he turns back to face her he’s fighting a smile; she always refers to him by his more colorful moniker in front of others. He much prefers how she addresses him in private, loves the sound of “Killian” on her lips.
“You forgot something.”
He can feel his eyebrow going up despite his best efforts. “What’s that?”
She doesn’t answer, not with words, but her sly smile reveals her intentions as she steps in close, her hands reaching for his lapels as she leans in close and presses her lips to his.
He sighs into her mouth, tilting his head but not daring to push things farther, not with her father a few feet away. But it’s yet another thing he’s so quickly grown used to, a sweet well-wishing from his beloved before undertaking a mission and he’s not about to let the chance pass him by. It’s so easy to get lost in, the warmth of her lips and the press of her palms against his chest.
She pulls away first but doesn’t go far, her lips against his while she smiles, her “There we go” sounding incredibly satisfied.
His grin mirrors hers. “How could I forget?”