This chapter is rated M, and the story rating has been adjusted accordingly.

She was more than a little stressed and worried when she didn't get a reply text, given how slow the sheriff's station typically was towards the end of the day on a Friday. She had spent the afternoon obsessing about her own feelings, without stopping for a moment to consider that maybe his feelings had changed. After all, she'd been aggressively avoiding him after telling him she was falling for him. Maybe he was done putting up with her.

But shortly after five o'clock, there was a tentative knock on the door. Her heart leapt hopefully in her chest—he'd come—even though she knew that he might not be here to forgive her. She shakily opened the door.

He looked entirely terrified; he immediately looked her over, as if to assess for any signs of physical harm. "Er, I got your message," he said quietly and awkwardly.

"You can come in," she said hesitantly; over the past few weeks, he'd never waited outside for an invitation, and it was strange that he was waiting now. He nodded and then stepped inside, but made no move to remove his coat or shoes, or make himself at home as he normally did. He stood tensely, and she realized that he was as nervous as he looked. And it meant she was going to have to be the one to do the talking.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, closing the door and moving to stand in front of him. "I felt so helpless when Zelena took my brother … I managed to convince myself that it was my fault for kissing you and losing my magic."

"Swan, you had no idea," he reminded her gently.

"No, I know. But I was stuck in this mindset, you know? And I just kept spiraling, thinking that the only way to protect myself and my family was to stop …" She couldn't find the words.

"To stop caring for anyone," he offered, and she nodded. "That certainly does clarify the past few days. Thank you for telling me."

"I just …" she reached out and touched his arm. "I was wrong. And these past few days are proof of that. I've been a complete wreck every second. Can you … can you forgive me?"

He was silent for a few moments, and entirely stiff, with his eyes firmly locked on the floor. Her stomach knotted up—it was too late. She'd hurt him too much. He wasn't going to forgive her.

He finally spoke. "I know that this is difficult for you to discuss. But I'm afraid that I need some additional clarification. Are you apologizing for avoiding me? Or just for not explaining why?"

"Hook," she said. "Killian. I'm trying to tell you that I love you, and that I'm not going to run from you anymore. If—if that's something you want," she added.

He continued to stand still for a moment, processing her admission, before he wrapped his arms around her. She felt shaky with relief. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Swan."

"Are you surprised?"

"That you've decided not to avoid me anymore? Perhaps."

"What about … you know … that I love you?"

He laughed. "Darling, you may recall that you've already admitted your feelings to me, more than once, just not in those exact words." He pulled back, and he was grinning; she couldn't help but grin back.

"Do … do you want to use those exact words?" she asked shyly.

He chuckled. "Are you truly unaware of my feelings for you?"

She shook her head. "No. That morning, that was True Love's Kiss," she admitted.

"Aye," he said, his face turning serious. "I was quite confused when Regina and Henry stampeded in, saying they'd broken the curse."

"I suppose they could have occurred simultaneously," she said. "If it's okay with you, though—"

"It would be best for us to maintain the story that Regina and Henry broke the curse alone," he said. "I agree." He leaned in and kissed her gently.

"But I still want to hear you say it," she said quietly.

"That I love you?" he asked. Her heart pounded. "That I adore you? That not a day went by that I didn't desperately miss you when we were apart this past year? That being brought back to myself with a kiss of true love from you was the single greatest moment of my life?"

"Yeah," she whispered, and he kissed her deeply.

"Henry's with Regina, right?" he asked.

"Yep."

Just to be sure, she dead-bolted the door.

When she turned back around, Hook had shucked off his jacket and was in the process of kicking off his shoes. Without pausing, she took his hand and led him behind the room divider that separated her bedroom alcove from the rest of the apartment. She made quick work of his waistcoat and shirt (no small feat; his sleeve briefly caught on his hook), and once she had, he pulled off her sweater and the thin tank top she wore underneath.

"Well, this looks a bit familiar," he murmured before letting her take his undershirt off.

"No interruptions this time," she said firmly as she undid his belt buckle and the fly of his jeans. As she pulled the jeans down, she could see his erection pushing at the fabric of his boxers.

"Hold on," he said, leaning on the bed while he removed his socks and then finished sliding off his pants. "Now, this seems a bit uneven." She grinned and leaned back on the bed while he undid her jeans and pulled them off her. "It's times like this that I'm grateful for the curse," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Without the knowledge that I possessed as a cursed resident of Storybrooke, I doubt I'd be quite as adept as I am at undoing a fly with one hand." He moved to sit next to her on the bed.

"Speaking of which," she began, "can I ask you a very personal question?"

"Of course."

"Do you … do you prefer to wear your hook for … uh …"

"While making love?"

"Yeah—sorry."

"Don't be." He sat up against the headboard thoughtfully. "To be honest, and I'm embarrassed to admit this, since I lost my hand, I've mostly fucked prostitutes or licentious bar wenches. Those occasions weren't exactly romantic, and given my reputation, the hook was pretty much expected."

"I see," she said awkwardly. "I mean, I don't want you to think I mind either way," she continued. "Maybe I'll eventually have a preference." He smiled at that—at the reminder that there was a future for them.

"Given that for the first time in a couple of hundred years, I'm about to bed a woman I love deeply, I suppose I could strip down completely, if you'd like." He winked, but he was holding something back.

He was afraid. She'd never seen him without his brace on, except when he was in the hospital—when his arm had been wrapped and covered.

She moved towards him, kissing him softly as she reached down and unlocked the hook from the brace. Setting it aside on her nightstand, she began to kiss his neck as she loosened the straps on the brace. She felt his hesitation as she slid it off and placed it next to his hook. "It's okay, Killian," she said, caressing the end of his left wrist. The skin felt much as she expected; there were regions of smooth skin and some areas with bumps and puckers. It was simply scarred skin, something she'd encountered countless times, including on her own body.

It was as if she'd scaled a particular wall of his, and now that she was over it, he was as well; his body relaxed significantly, and with little warning, he shook her hand free and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her towards him tightly and kissing down her neck. Using his left arm to hold the fabric of her bra in place against her back, he deftly unhooked it with his right hand, and then pulled back in order to remove it and examine his handiwork.

She felt herself blush; she expected that in the dim light coming from the living room, he could see the flush extend from her face all the way down to her newly bared breasts. As exciting as the first time could be with someone she cared about, it was also nerve-wracking; she preferred the intimacy and lack of self-consciousness that came with familiarity. Knowing that he was staring at her naked chest for the first time made her feel incredibly insecure: there was a zit that she'd absentmindedly picked at in the shower, and her breasts were not as perky as they'd been when she was in her twenties. He didn't seem to mind, of course; he reached out and stroked each breast, one at a time, and before she could ruin the mood by making a self-deprecating comment, he leaned forward to take one breast in his mouth while he caressed the other.

"Well, I guess we're diving right in," she murmured, and he responded by flicking her nipple with his tongue. He pushed her onto her back and continued his ministrations, dividing his time between each breast. She could feel his erection pressing gently into her leg, but it just made her heart beat faster. He was alternating between light licks and caresses, and harder tweaks, and she was starting to feel her arousal building.

"I don't mean to ruin the mood," he said after a few minutes, "but we should probably talk about, ah, contraceptives."

She had to take a few moments to catch her breath. "I got an IUD recently, and I was screened for STDs before I got it."

He squeezed a breast thoughtfully. "So should I be concerned about any diseases you may have contracted from the flying monkey?"

She laughed. "Walsh and I always used condoms before, and we never had a chance to have sex after I got the IUD. So I should be free of monkey diseases." She frowned, recalling Hook's earlier comment about fucking prostitutes. "What about you? Did you pick anything up in the Enchanted Forest? Because I don't have any condoms here."

"There aren't any such diseases in the Enchanted Forest," he said. "But it so happens that two weeks ago, I had a physical exam, and I'm entirely healthy. And that's not a cursed memory—that did actually happen."

"Okay," she said slowly. "So we don't need to use condoms."

He grinned. "I suppose not." He moved down a little on the bed. "Perhaps it's time we removed the rest of your attire, love." He stroked her through her panties, and she shivered with anticipation—it was still a little weird that it was Hook who was caressing her, but at the same time, she was excited that it was him. "You certainly feel ready."

She lifted her hips for him so he could grab her underwear by the waistband and pull it off. He threw them to the floor and then pushed her legs apart. She had forgotten how long it had been since she'd gotten a wax (it hadn't been a priority, and besides—who in Storybrooke ran that business?), and she had to resist the urge to bring her knees together and apologize. But he didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and after examining her for a few seconds, he reached down and began playing with her folds.

As he did so, he shifted so that he was lying on his side beside her, propping himself up on his arm and leaning in to kiss her lazily. After a few minutes, she could feel her anxiety begin to subside and the pleasure begin to build up again. Soon, she was bucking her hips as he inserted a couple of fingers, all the while keeping his thumb dancing gently around her clit.

When she came, she came as quietly as possible, knowing that her parents were probably home. But she couldn't control her body as she arched her back and clutched at her comforter. "Beautiful," he whispered. "You're beautiful."

"That was … amazing," she said, still panting. "If you give me a minute, I can return the favor." A minute was an underestimation; she would likely need several.

"If it's all right with you, Swan," he said hesitantly, "I'd prefer to make love to you. I'm sure you're very capable with your hands, but—"

"But there will be plenty of other occasions for that," she finished for him, and he smiled. "Besides, I'd love for you to fuck me."

He sighed. "While I admit that I find it extremely arousing to hear you say that, I'd like to think of it in more romantic terms."

"Then I'd love for you to lovingly fuck me," she teased. She sat up and reached for his boxers. "Come on, it's my turn. Let's see the goods."

He chuckled, but she could see him blush as he lifted his hips. She shimmied the shorts off of him, and his erection sprang free. She smiled appreciatively; he was definitely big, but not so big that she was going to have trouble adjusting to him. "Me on top, or you?" she asked as she reached out and grasped him gently. "I don't have a preference."

He gasped and then moaned softly. "Me," he said. "Gods, me." He sat up to kiss her, and then slowly pushed her back on the bed. Her legs trembled slightly as she spread them—she was actually, for real about to have sex with Hook—but as he settled between them, she reached down to guide him.

He grunted as he began to push into her, and then he thrust in and out slowly, more deeply each time. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he let out a sigh. "Love, tell me this is real," he whispered.

"It is," she replied. "But if you don't start moving, I swear—"

Before she could finish her sentence, he followed her instructions, and she moaned. He paused for a moment to nudge her a little into a slightly better position, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to improve the angle further. When he began to thrust again, he was perfectly positioned to rub gently against her clit.

It was significantly difficult for her to keep quiet; her hormone-addled brain even questioned how much it would really bother her if her parents could hear what she was doing. Her initial appraisal of his size had been spot-on; she felt deliciously full, but she didn't feel any discomfort. She tried to keep the desperate whine coming from her throat to a minimum.

After a few minutes, it became clear that even if she could stay quiet, Hook would end up giving them away anyway. The man was grunting loudly, and not bothering to whisper his words of encouragement. "Oh gods, love," he groaned loudly. "I'm not going to last very long if I go any faster."

"Shh!" she finally said. "My parents are upstairs."

"So?" he asked, emphasizing his question with a thrust of his hips, eliciting a lusty grunt from her. "They'd probably be disappointed—" Thrust. "—if we weren't doing this."

"God, just fuck me," she said, not matching his volume, but no longer trying to stay as quiet.

"As you wish," he said, panting and picking up the pace. His movements were hitting a particularly satisfying spot, and she let out a low, loud moan that was punctuated with each of his thrusts.

"Gods, Emma. Emma, I'm coming. I'm coming, love." His actions became more erratic, and he grunted and gasped in her ear; she felt him throbbing inside of her for several long moments, and then he finally relaxed on top of her.

She stroked his back as she regained her breath. "How're you doing, Captain?" Her words were slightly slurred.

He laughed. "I've never been better," he said happily. He gently rolled to the side, pulling out. "How was that, love?"

What she wanted to say was, "No amount of your innuendo could have prepared me for that level of satisfaction," but it came out: "Ummmmm, fucking awesome."

"Truly?" he asked. "I don't enjoy calling attention to my failings, but you didn't seem to peak."

"Never have from sex alone," she admitted. "Not a failing of yours, that's for sure."

"Hm. Well, I can promise that next time, you'll come at least once." He winked, and then pulled her close. "Emma, darling, I do love you," he said.

"I know," she said, smiling. "And I do love you."

Late that evening, they were watching Supernatural together on the couch. Emma had made some popcorn, and they'd turned off all the lights to make the show more fun to watch (which had the added disadvantage of making it difficult to find dropped or spilled popcorn).

"It's strange," Hook said. "I know that never in my life have I actually watched an episode of this show, but I have memories of watching it. Right now, I remember what happens in this episode, but I know I've never seen it."

"I know what you mean," she replied. "I've found myself having to sort out what movies I've seen or books I've read, and which ones I just remember seeing or reading." She shifted a bit in order to sit more comfortably against him. "I do know I've seen this show, though," she added. "I binge-watched it over the past year with Henry."

"What was the past year like for you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Mundane. In a good way, I mean. We had a nice apartment. Every day, Henry would get up and go to school, and afterwards he'd hang out with his friends. I was back in bail bonds, which was going well. Dated a bit before I met Walsh. Boring but safe."

"Sounds like my cursed memories," he said, chuckling. "Boring but safe."

"What about you? What happened when you went back?"

He sighed. "I'm reluctant to admit this to you, but I tried to resume my old life. Initially, I couldn't find the Jolly Roger, but I put together some of my old crew and we did some excellent jobs along some of the less mainstream thoroughfares."

"Did you find the Jolly Roger?" She frowned. "I haven't seen it in Storybrooke."

"I did find her," he said quietly. "You recall Ariel?" She nodded. "She came looking for me, having discovered that her love had been taken aboard my ship. Of course, I was shipless at the time, but I offered to help her, and we found the Jolly, which Blackbeard had commandeered. I outdueled him to win back my ship, but the bastard had left Ariel's prince Eric on a deserted island, and wouldn't give up the man's location unless I gave up the Jolly Roger."

"You're joking," she said.

"If only I were," he said sadly. "The reason why you haven't seen the Jolly Roger here in Storybrooke, love, is that I agreed to the blackguard's terms."

"Did … did Ariel find Eric?"

"Aye."

"That was very noble," she whispered.

"I did it because I hoped that perhaps someone else would have the opportunity to do the same for me," he said. "The Jolly Roger was more than a ship to me—she was my home, and she was all I had left after I lost my brother and Milah. But I wanted so badly to be reunited with you that it seemed unconscionable and selfish for me to deny Ariel her own reunion. After I confirmed with her that she'd found her prince, I returned to your parents' kingdom. I'm relieved that they were so welcoming when I returned; they were quite put off when I left."

"They like you," she said, chuckling.

"Aye, but do they like me as a son-in-law?" But he was grinning.

"Getting ahead of yourself there, Hook," she warned him.

"You do recall that you are my True Love, yes?" He laughed when she merely batted his shoulder in reply. "I'm rather thirsty. Would you like anything to drink?"

"I'm all set," she said. "Glasses are in the upper cabinet next to the fridge, and there's lemonade if you prefer that to water."

"Thanks, love." In the weak light from the television, he was unable to see exactly what was in his way and managed to stub a toe on his way into the kitchen. "Damn, Swan, what on earth did I just kick? It's much too dark in here."

"Sorry," she said, chuckling. She spotted the shadows of the candles she'd left on the counter. Perhaps …

She thought about how she was relaxing with the man she loved, and who loved her back. And the candles lit.

At eight-fifteen in the morning, Emma Swan woke up, feeling surprisingly refreshed for the first time in ages. Hook was spooning her, his arm draped over her protectively, and he was snoring gently into her hair. Thankfully, it was Saturday, Henry wouldn't be home until the following night, and (barring an emergency) neither of them had to work. They could spend the day—and night—together, in whatever manner they wished.

She sighed contentedly, and after a few minutes, she fell back asleep.

Thank you all so so so so much for your incredible support and amazing kindness! I loved writing this story, and your responses made it all worth it. Sometimes, I look at the number of followers on this story and think that ffnet had a glitch or something.

I'm immensely grateful to the wonderful people who've been reviewing since the start. Every time I see a review from one of you, I grin (for real, in real life, I smile). Thank you so much.

I'd love to know what you all think of this final chapter, as well as the whole story.

I am no longer posting stories to FFnet. For new stories, check out my page on AO3 (same username, phiralovesloki; there's a link in my profile as well).