i know it’s not ginny. cause’ even you’re not that crazy.

<< then  w h y  haven’t you told ginny? >>

                                                  << i  d o n ’ t  know >>

Sleep is a blissful thing. Buried under a heavy comforter, tangled in sheets, head and hair splayed out across the pillows. Light spills in from the un-curtained window. Storybooke is filled with all different kinds of sounds at night. Creatures, human and animal (sometimes both those together) running wild. 

The Sheriff, however, doesn’t bother with that. Those are the mornings problems, when the sun comes up in the sky, and the coffee pot finishes with its brewing. 

Right now…. Right now she’s giggling under her breath as her hands slide up and down her favorite pirates back. Killian groans in his sleep, rolling, and burying his head underneath his pillows.

“It’s bloody three in the morning,” his grumpy voice calls.

“I got the old radio to work,” Emma whispers, soft breath ghosting over his ear. He can smell the rum on her, just the faintest whiff, and his sleep addled mind is awake enough to be slightly upset that she’s drinking without him.

And probably his own personal rum, too.

The nerve. 

“Well the music box works and it’s still three a.m. I’m glad we cleared that all up, love.”


Emma wraps her arms around his torso, snuggling up to him. Her giggling turns into small hiccups, which only results in her giggling harder. Killian sighs, knowing sleep is futile until she gets what she wants. 

He rolls over, pulling her with him, so when he sits up she’s already on her feet beside the bed. She’s wearing one of his shirts and her hair is an absolute mess. But she’s beautiful there, no walls or boundaries. Nothing but her innocently smiling at him, forehead resting lazily against his. 

“I want to dance,” she whispers. 

“As you wish.” 

She tugs on his hand for him to follow, and he obliges, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he goes. As they get closer to the kitchen he can, in fact, here the once broken radio playing away, music barely just above a whisper.

“It won’t go any higher then that,” Emma informs him. 

“No, I imagine it wouldn’t after you chucked it off the second story balcony in your fit of rage.”

“It was a long day.”

I met you in the dark, you lit me up
You made me feel as if I was enough
We danced the night away, we drank too much 

“I did steal you rum,” Emma admits, grabbing hold of his hands and beginning to sway back and forth. 

He spins her, her blonde hair catching the moonlight making her seem like the must elusive creature. 

I know,” Killian whispers, fondly. 

You smiled over you shoulder
For a minute, I was stone cold sober
I pulled you closer to my chest 
And you asked me to stay over
I said, I already told ya
I think it’s time for you to get some rest 

Emma’s head lulls onto his chest, right above his collarbone and into the curve of his neck. She’s still humming along to the song, but she’s nearly asleep on her feet. Killian smiles at her fluttering eyelashes, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

“I love you,” he whispers. 

“Mmhm,” she mutters. 

He laughs again, scooping her up into his arms, and carrying her back to bed. He sets her down among the sheets and blankets, fluffing up her pillows to perfection, just the way she likes, so she won’t complain of a crick in her neck in the morning. 

He hops on quietly over to his side of the bed, nestling into just the right spot he’d been laying in right before she’d woken him up. 

Killian looks over at her, dead to the world, knowing that in only hours they’ll wake up again and face another day. Full of unexpected surprises and fears and hopes and tragedies. 

It’s how their life is. 

But right here, in this moment, drifting off to the sound of her quiet snores…

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

It’s perfect.