"Ow," a voice groans from the opposite side of the bed, finally drawing Emma out of that hazy place between waking and sleeping. She's actually a little upset; she'd been having a nice dream that involved puppies and small children, which in of its self is shocking.
Less shocking is the look on Killian's face when she rolls over. At least, the look on what she can see of his face; he's sprawled across the bed, face smashed into a pillow with another held down on top of his head. He looks like he just tasted something incredibly unpleasant. She hears a muffled groan, and snorts.
"I told you not to do it," she mutters, and he growls at her. "Hey, I'm just saying, I knew I didn't want a repeat of our first wedding night."
"Unlike some people, I remember everything when I drink."
Rolling her eyes, she shuffles closer to him and he moves just enough to drape his arm around her waist, pulling her closer against his side. "I could have died from alcohol poisoning, Killian, that's how much I must have drank."
"Don't be melodramatic, I wouldn't have let you die," he mutters into the pillow, finally turning his head to the side to look at her. A soft smile slowly drifts across his features as he takes her in, and he brings his hand up to push hair away from her face. "Even dying from a hangover, I can still tell you're beautiful," he comments absently, and strokes his thumb over her cheek.
Despite that this is far from the first time she's woken up to comments like this, she still feels heat rising under her skin. The bastard grins at that.
"Always blush so prettily, love." He curls his head closer, shifting his body until his side is nearly on top of her. "I'd wonder how far it goes, but I already know," he continues, and drops his hand to the curve of her waist, smirking.
God, but he's insufferable. The worst part is that she doesn't even mind anymore, that she cherishes his stupidity now. She's so hopelessly in love with him, even after all this time, that it doesn't matter. Trying to keep herself from grinning like the fool she is, she tangles her hand in his hair, massaging his scalp.
He lets out a practically sinful groan, and relaxes instantly.
"Seven hells lass, that feels amazing." His eyes slip shut, and she uses that moment to close the gap between them, gently brushing their lips together. He exhales into the kiss and cups the back of her neck, lazily refusing to let her pull away. It makes warmth creep into her body and spread, from her toes to her fingers, and she makes a pleased sound at the back of her throat. Apparently it motivates Killian, because he nips at her bottom lip and deepens the kiss when she gasps, rolling over until he's hovering over her.
She giggles and breaks the kiss, cupping his cheeks as she looks up at him and he grins, dragging his hands down her sides until they rest pleasantly on her hips. His hair is ruffled from her fingers, and she smirks, rubbing her hands through his hair again, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut and his face goes slack.
"Here I thought you were feeling miserable, Mr. Jones," she says with a grin, and tuts at him.
"Mmmm, for you, love, I'll feel anything," he replies with a murmur, and buries his face against her neck, lightly biting at the skin there before he soothes it with kisses and travels slowly across her chest, a hand coming up to cup her breast. "Anything at all, Mrs. Jones…"
"It sounds weird to hear you say that – oh!" She gasps sharply, fingers digging into his scalp when he closes his lips around a nipple and tugs slightly. He doesn't let up, laving his tongue against her skin and biting gently at her until she's shifting restlessly, clutching at him, something he seems to enjoy.
"It's what you are," he mumbles against her skin, and dips his head, pressing a ridiculously chaste kiss between her breasts. "Mrs. Jones. Again." And then he lifts his head and gives her the fucking brightest smile she's ever seen, practically ready to split his face off.
"Never thought I'd see you so happy," she says with a grin, and he chuckles, planting a quick kiss on her.
"I'm the happiest man alive," he proclaims, puffing out his chest enough to send her into a fit of giggles under him, rolling out of his arms. He pouts at her, but can't keep it up very long himself before dissolving into laughter.
"That was ridiculous," she chuckles, and he grins, pulling her back against him.
"Hush, that was romantic." Emma rolls her eyes, swatting playfully at his shoulder
"Yes, so romantic. Look at me. I'm a quivering mess. Oh. Take me now, husband," she deadpans, and he laughs against the back of her neck, nuzzling at her hair.
"Don't worry, darling, I'll take care of you." His voice is low and rough in her ear, and suddenly he's touching her, hands brushing across her side and then thighs until his fingers brush between her legs, barely touching her. He kisses her neck and she hums softly, pressing back into him.
"Only you could make that actually romantic, Killian Jones," she murmurs, and he chuckles.
"It took two remarkable years to get you to agree to marry me again, love. Don't think I'm letting you out of this bed for at least another day. Hangover be damned." His arm tightens around her waist and he kisses the back of her neck.
"Well," she shrugged, none-too-subtly shimmying her ass against him, grinning when she feels teeth on her skin, "I've heard orgasms can help with headaches. I mean, it's probably just a myth. But, uh, we could experiment. For science."
"Let it never be said I'm opposed to scientific progress, then," he chuckles and pulls her back so he can kiss her properly. He easily settles between her thighs, touching every inch of skin he can reach, kissing her until she can't feel anything but him.
He kisses her for a long time, kisses her and loves her and she can hardly breathe, she feels so loved, pretty fucking cherished, in fact. He's done that since the day he met her, and it took her far too long to trust him, because now she can hardly imagine life without him, without waking up every morning to bed hair and soft blue eyes. After, she presses her head against his chest, listens to his heartbeat and stares at her hand as she draws circles on his chest.
Her wedding ring sits pretty on her finger, and his is old and scratched because he never took it off, but they still make a matching pair when he reaches for her hand to hold it.