"Have you seen this headline?"

Killian glanced up, twisting away from the half-filled suitcase in front of him to turn towards the doorway. Emma held her phone in her hand, arm stretched out in front of her as if he'd, somehow, be able to read whatever was written on the screen.

Packing, it seemed, would have to wait.

"I can't read that, Swan," he said, taking a step towards her and his hand fell on her waist before he grabbed the phone.

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't move his hand either and he hadn't noticed the small pile of clothes she had tucked underneath her arm. It made his plan a bit more difficult – to ignore packing and headlines and the flight they needed to be ready for in just a few hours by spending those few hours kissing her instead.

Emma pushed the phone against his chest and mumbled something that might have, at some point, been actual words when he dragged his mouth against her jaw, nose brushing against her hair and the clothes were, suddenly, in a pile at their feet.

"Jerk," Emma muttered, but he could hear the smile in her voice still. "Now I'm going to have to refold all of those."

"It does appear that we're both behind schedule," Killian laughed, tugging her closer to him until she let out a soft oof when her forehead found his shoulder blade.

"Jeez, no need to be so aggressive, Jones. You have to bring a tie, by the way. Several. Regina will kill you if you don't."

"I'm not wearing a tie on a fourteen-hour flight, Swan."

"So take it off when you get on the plane."

"And then put it back on when I get off," he grumbled and he wasn't sure if that was from the apparent tie requirements or the feel of her against him, her fingers tugging on the front of the t-shirt he still had on.

Emma pulled back slightly, grinning at him before pushing up on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek. "If you know the rules already, Cap, I don't know why we're having this conversation."

"You brought up the ties. And there are three in there already."

"Three?"

"Are there supposed to be more?"

She twisted her mouth slightly and Killian could practically hear the gears working in her head, tracing back through plans and rules and a schedule that she'd hand-written and put in the middle of the refrigerator a week ago.

Their refrigerator in their apartment with pillows and a Conn-Smythe they still hadn't moved out of the kitchen.

Five months after moving the boxes and the trophies and a brand-new mattress that they'd picked out together, Killian still couldn't quite believe any of this was real , a consistent and domestic happiness that seemed to settle in the very center of him every time he opened his eyes to find Emma's hair in his face.

"I don't think so," Emma said, tapping out a rhythm with her fingers against him. "But you might want to grab that one off the Conn-Smythe. You know, just to be sure."

She did something absolutely ridiculous with her eyebrows, tongue pressed against her teeth while she smiled at him and if he was happy every goddamn day, then he was somewhere in the realm of overjoyed the night before, clothes, literally, flung across the room – their room, fuck – after another pre-Games event and five months into another season, Emma Swan was still, decidedly, the best thing in his entire life.

"A menace," Killian accused, lips back on her jaw and down her neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. She moved against him again, hips hitting his in a very particular way that was not going to help either one of them figure out how many ties he needed to bring to on a fourteen-hour plane ride and a two-week event on the other side of the world.

"If memory serves," Emma said, just a bit breathless when she draped her arms over his shoulders. "Half of that was your fault. Something about the dress and a distraction and…"

"And how much I was interested in how the dress would look on the floor," he said and his hands might have tightened around her waist out of instinct or need or something not-quite-scientific.

He loved her more than he expected – still.

"A charmer as always," Emma said, one of her fingers twisting through the front of his belt loops and it was all he could do to keep his balance. "If you step on any of my dresses though, I'll probably murder you."

"So romantic, Swan. I'm swooning, really."

"You know I came in here with a plan. We do have a schedule to keep to and a car that's supposed to be here in like," she glanced down at the phone Killian only vaguely remembered was still in her hands, "forty-five minutes."

"That seems like quite a bit of time, actually."

"How much have you packed?"

"Three ties, Swan, we've been over this."

"Yeah?" she asked, using his shoulder as leverage to stare at the mostly-filled suitcase behind him. "Looks like you're totally on track, Cap."

"Your clothes are on the floor," Killian pointed out and if she could do whatever with her eyebrows and her tongue, then turnabout was, absolutely, fair play. And the smirk absolutely worked now.

"That was your fault."

"So stunned by me that you just drop whatever it is your holding, huh, Swan?"

She scoffed, but her smile seemed to widen and that constant happiness that just existed now seemed to grow tenfold. He almost, almost, didn't care about the fourteen-hour flight in front of them and what a fourteen-hour flight would be like with Scarlet, a teenager and an eight-year-old who wouldn't stop singing the National Anthem.

"Man, maybe I shouldn't show you the headline, there's no reason to keep inflating that ego," Emma said, ignoring the noise he made when she stepped back.

"Are you searching out headlines?"

"No, I'm not, honestly. At least not about this. The stuff about the team is work stuff though, which, actually, add that to the list on the fridge because Ruby wanted to send out a blast to e-mail subscribers before we took off later tonight."

She was halfway back to the door and the kitchen and the list already, lip pulled tightly between her teeth and Killian reached forward to wrap his hand around her wrist, pulling her up short and earning him another scoff for good measure.

"The headline, Swan," he said, moving his arm back around her waist and tugging her up against his chest. Her hair was in his face again.

"David texted it to me."

"David needs to find a better use of his time than scrolling through SubReddits."

"You might like this one, actually."

Emma twisted around, holding up her phone again and the smile on her face wasn't the same nervous one that seemed to always accompany headline announcements. Although, Killian realized, there hadn't been many headlines in the last five months.

Winning the Stanley Cup seemed to answer most questions and, five months into the season, they were sitting in second in the Metro and Phillip was probably going to set some kind of scoring record.

Aurora mentioned it after every game.

It was driving Will insane.

Add that to the list of reasons he was dreading this fourteen-hour flight.

"Come on," Emma continued, pushing the phone dangerously close to his face. "At least look at it. Plus, this didn't come from the SubReddit. David led with that."

"Smart guy," Killian mumbled as he pulled the phone out of Emma's hands.

She was right – of course she was. He did like it and that might make him a bit more selfish than he'd like to admit at 1:30 in the afternoon, but he'd never been a New York tabloid superhero.

Killian glanced back down at the headline – Captain America: Jones ready to lead Team USA after NHL stalls Olympic moves.

It wasn't even a very good photoshop. The skin on his face didn't match the skin on whoevers neck was part of the body underneath him, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing at it and, well, it wasn't the worst headline he'd ever been a part of.

"They totally stole my idea," Emma complained. "Or, well, you know, Henry's idea."

"He should sue."

"Don't think he hasn't already told me how mad he is at The Post . Or how Regina's been thinking about the concept of intellectual propertyfor the last several hours."

"Henry texted you already about this?" Killian asked and Emma shrugged in response. "Efficient."

"He reads The Post now, you know. From left to right though. I think he's trying to protect everybody, it's almost cute if you think about it that way."

"Don't let him hear you say that. And did you say from left to right?"

"Eh," Emma sighed. "He'll probably just hit out his aggression. And, yeah, you know, start with sports work your way back towards Page Six and then ignore local news completely."

"He's getting really good at that."

"Ignoring local news?"

Killian rolled his eyes, but Emma just laughed and they were definitely behind schedule now. He absolutely didn't care. That just meant they could take their own fourteen-hour flight instead of being part of whatever New York Rangers contingent they seemed to be travelling with.

"Hitting. Once you learn how to skate, it's easy," Killian said. "Plus, he's got an entire hockey team ready and willing to show him how to check, so, you know, that helps too."

"I think Scarlet's enjoying it all just a bit too much. Henry's going to set some sort of record for penalty minutes in his league this year."

"Nah," Killian objected and he still hadn't given Emma her phone back. "Hopper won't let that happen. They're not big on checking at the Piers."

"Just you then, huh? Breaking all the rules from the very beginning?"

Killian shrugged. "If you remember correctly, Swan, Liam was the one who checked me. Not the other way around."

"Yuh huh. Likely story. And you didn't read any of that actual story did you?"

"No," Killian said. "I can't imagine much of it is true."

Emma clicked her tongue, pulling the phone out of his hands and stuffing it back in her pocket with a very specific type of look – one that made him want to rip up the schedule in the kitchen and use some of his very large max deal to buy an entire fucking plane for themselves.

"See, that's where you're wrong," Emma argued. "It was all true. Actually. Highlights include, Captain America saves the Olympics, gets NHL to change its mind about letting players go and, several speculatory sentences about how many goals you were going to score over the course of the next two weeks. We are, apparently, the front-runner for gold."

She grinned at him, the force of it making him just a bit weak at the knees and maybe they should have moved to the bed for this conversation. That wouldn't have kept them on schedule at all.

"I think the entire country of Canada would disagree with that, love," Killian said. "They've developed some kind of gold-medal habit."

"Yeah, but you weren't there before."

"And that's going to make all the difference is it?"

He did his best to keep his voice light, the joke in his tone and his smirk and Emma wasn't fooled for a moment. He didn't really expect her to be.

"I think so," she said softly, fingers trailing across the collar of his shirt and the side of his neck. "Counts for something, right?"

Killian kissed her and they didn't have time and the suitcase on the bed was only half full, even if there were three very blue ties sitting in the corner, and he didn't care. He sighed when his lips met hers and it was as familiar as it had become in the last six months – kisses when they were leaving for work or before games and when he got home in the middle of the night from road trips to find Emma blinking blearily in the corner of the couch with her ring twisted in between her fingers.

It was familiar and comfortable and so goddamn perfect he was half convinced it must have been something he'd dreamed up at some point and just willed into being.

Emma moved against him, seemingly trying to breathe him in and he wouldn't have objected if she had.

"Everything, Swan," he muttered. "That counts for absolutely everything."

"See, that's the charming I was talking about before," Emma said, thumb going to the chain around her neck quickly and that might have made Killian's breath catch and he wasn't entirely certain how he was still standing.

Or not purchasing private planes to the goddamn Olympics.

"There's going to be a car here in like half an hour," she continued. "And you should totally text that article to El, she'll love it."

"That's probably what all the buzzing I was decidedly ignoring before was."

"Don't do that to her, she's got a million things going on with whatever she's trying to do at work. Ignoring her's not going to end well. And maybe Anna too. I didn't read the string of messages in the group chat, but there were a lot of them."

"Are you group chatting with El and Banana, Swan?"

Emma shrugged, but her eyes were a bit brighter and she tugged on her chain thoughtfully. "Maybe," she admitted slowly. "They, well, I guess they've been doing it forever and they started texting me about the same thing separately so El said there was no point in not including me in some sort of quasi-Vankald group thing."

Killian's mouth was hanging open. He knew because he was, apparently, trying to breathe out of it and he wasn't doing a very good job.

God, he still needed to pack.

They had a gold medal to win and a plane ride to, somehow, survive and maybe they could hang the medal off the Conn-Smythe in the kitchen. It would, at least, spark conversations when Mary Margaret and David showed up.

"Is that cool?" Emma asked and Killian silently cursed himself for whatever complete emotional breakdown he was having in the middle of their room because that might have been the best thing in the entire world.

And it might make whatever plan he half had formed in the back of his mind just a bit easier.

They should probably stop doing these kinds of things around major sporting events.

"Of course," he promised and Emma sighed softly. "You send 'em the link, Swan. I've still got to pack and find another tie. I'll answer El before the car gets here."

"There's a tie in the kitchen, still. I've got to find another bag too."

"I'll just put them in mine."

"Are you sure? You don't have to stay in the room with me, you know. You're supposed to have some sort of Olympics experience."
Killian groaned, but it was mostly because she'd been so adamant about this. The Olympic experience however, seemed to include a less-than-comfortable village of 20-somethings who were all intent on celebrating any sort of athletic achievement with a copious amount of international sex.

They'd gotten pamphlets on it from USA Hockey.

Phillip was probably still scandalized and Will might have been more entertained by that than any sort of checking Henry was accomplishing on the Piers.

"The only Olympic experience I'm interested in, Swan, is an actual hotel room and the ability to fall asleep. Which, as previously discussed, is somewhere in the realm of impossible when you're not there. So, yes, I am sure and I am not interested in the Olympic Village or anything that requires some kind of pamphlet to explain."

Emma laughed softly, nodding as she grabbed the dresses that were still on the floor. "That wasn't just charming, that was romantic too. Good job, Jones."

"You act like this is some kind of change of pace, Swan."

"Jeez, maybe I shouldn't have shown you the headline. You won't be able to fit the ego on the plane. It'll ground us before we even take off."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Whatever. I'll go get your tie."

She pressed a kiss against his cheek before she left, squeezing his hip and it took every ounce of self control Killian wasn't sure he had to not pull her back against him and make every effort to miss their flight.

Or he would have, if his phone didn't start to ring.

Killian rolled his eyes, groaning as he stalked towards the sound and he could barely hear Emma's soft laugh at the other end of the hallway. He grabbed the phone without even looking at the name on the screen, certain it was Robin or Will, both of them demanding to find out when he was getting to the airport and how many ties he was bringing.

"Yeah," Killian snapped, swiping his thumb across the phone. The immediate tongue click on the other end was enough sound to prove it wasn't Robin or Will.

"What could you possibly have to be frustrated about right now?" Elsa asked, disbelief in her voice and something that sounded like a frustrated baby in the background. Or that might have just been Anna.

"Maybe he wanted to be a different superhero," Anna suggested knowingly and Killian rolled his eyes again, dropping onto the edge of the bed and only just missing the half-filled suitcase in front of him.

"Shut up, Banana," Killian mumbled. She just laughed in response.

"I thought it was a pretty good mock-up. I mean, not as good as the programs Emma made, but, you know, for The Post."

"And just how is it that you've readThe Post already today?"

"They've got this newfangled thing called the internet, KJ. It's crazy. You can be in a completely different city and, somehow, manage to readPost headlines. You should check it out sometime, it'll absolutely blow your mind."

"There's no need to be a jerk about it," he muttered, running an anxious hand through his hair and he could hear Emma in the kitchen, the sounds of the coffee-maker coming to life making their way down the hallway.

He didn't have time for some sort of intervention from both Elsa and Anna. He had a flight to be on and Olympic gold medals to, maybe, win and a plan he was only half-certain was a good idea to get underway.

No, no, it was definitely a good idea.

The best idea.

The only idea that had made sense for the better part of the last year and a half. There was no reason to be worried. He could put that worry to better use on the ice and against Team Canada and making sure Scarlet didn't drive everyone insane on a fourteen-hour flight across most of the goddamn world.

It was going to be fine. He was, somewhere, in the realm of confident about that. He didn't need the combined efforts of Elsa and Anna to assure of him that.

And he didn't want Emma to hear this conversation.

"Don't do that, Anna," Elsa chastised quietly, muttering out the words in between pleas of c'mon, Lizzie, quiet, just a few minutes while we talk to Uncle Killian. "He's already worked up enough without that."

"I am not worked up," Killian argued and there was a loud scoff on the other end of the phone. "Are you even really there, Bannana? Or did El just finally descend into complete madness and we've all started calling each other on multiple lines?"

Anna howled with laughter and Lizzie didn't seem to appreciate that. Neither did Elsa. "Oh my God, KJ," Anna laughed. "You really are the oldest person alive, aren't you? Super grumpy about technology. It'd be almost endearing if I knew you weren't trying to deflect."

"I'm not trying to deflect. That was you. And that wasn't an answer."

Elsa groaned. "Will you two stop it? Honestly just have a normal…."

She didn't get a chance to finish, Anna's voice picking up several octaves when she started shouting at Killian from a still-to-be-determined location. "I am not, KJ! That's all you and I know why and you know why and Emma probably knows why and…"

"Did you say something, Banana?"

They should probably stop interrupting each other. These half-sentences and half-formed thoughts were making him more nervous than he already was and he was already somewhere in the realm of terrified.

A bed creaked somewhere, Lizzie still fussing loudly on the other end of the line as Elsa clicked her tongue again. They were a mess of a family.

Maybe that was why he was nervous.

Killian wouldn't have been surprised if Liam was somewhere nearby, shoulders shaking with laughter as he muttered about how he knew his little brother was scared of the Olympics and everything that, he hoped, could happen there.

"Of course not," Anna snapped and Killian could hear the hurt in the three words. "I wouldn't do that."

"I honestly don't think she has any idea," Elsa whispered.

Killian sighed, running a hand over his face and pressing his fingers into the skin just underneath his eyes. Captain America, it seemed, was a bit terrified of fucking everything up with a few words and one moment and he should really come up with a better plan.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Anna scoffed again. "Seriously, Banana, I know you wouldn't do that."

"Certainly didn't seem like it."

"I know, I know. I'm just…"

"Worried?"

"Terrified seems like a much better word. Don't tell Liam that."

"It doesn't matter, he totally knows."

He resisted the urge to actually fall back onto the mattress – certain he'd just hit the suitcase instead and that would probably just hurt his back and he didn't have time for injuries. Half of his argument in getting the NHL to stop being complete assholes about the Olympics was promises of no injuries and they weren't even really supposed to check each other once they got to the Games.

Will wasn't happy about that either.

"It's going to be fine, KJ," Elsa promised and he knew she wasn't talking about getting out on the ice. "It's not like it's completely out of nowhere."

"Oh, oh, out of left field," Anna yelled, likely bobbing on her feet from wherever she was actually calling from.

"Too easy," Killian laughed. He needed to pack. He needed to make sure whoever was in charge of luggage on this flight understood how important this one piece of luggage was and maybe he should just keep it in his pocket the entire time.

He'd set the metal detector off.

Did they have to go through a metal detector?

It was a chartered flight. Maybe he could just tell security? Or Regina? Or Ruby? They were, somehow, in charge of all of this.

No, he couldn't tell them – this team talked too much and talked about each other too much and Killian was determined not to leave any of this to fate.

There was a plan.

He was going to stick to the plan. And he wasn't going to let the New York Rangers Olympic contingent ruin it for him. Or announce his intentions on the ice before he got to.

They would absolutely do that.

"Ah, whatever," Anna grumbled. "There are only so many sports cliches to work with, KJ. So come on, spill. How you going to do this?"

"Do what?"

"KJ!" He wasn't sure who yelled loudest – Elsa or Anna – and maybe he'd done it mostly for the reaction or possibly for the distraction and there'd be a car outside sooner rather than later. This conversation was lasting far too long.

"God, will you two relax?" he asked, chancing a glance towards the door and Emma hadn't come back from the kitchen yet. "Is that what this phone call was about to make sure I had a plan?"

"Do you?" Anna challenged and he made a noise in the back of the throat. "Oh, that sounds like no plan."

"I have a plan."

"Then what is it?"

"Banana, seriously, I need you to take, at least, ten steps back right now. I don't even know where you are and I can hear the gears working in your head. You are not in charge of this. You don't get to plan this entire thing."

He could practically hear her shoulders sagging, the breath rushing out of her in some kind of hybrid sigh-groan that had him smiling before he could stop himself. "I don't expect to plan the whole thing," Anna muttered.

"I'm serious, Banana. No lofts. No Fifth Ave. No telling Emma."

She practically growled at him and Killian's smile shook for half a moment. Maybe he was mostly terrified of anna. "No lofts? KJ, where do you expect to do this if you're not going to do it at a loft? It's so much easier. You transition from the ceremony to the reception and it's all one space and…"

"No, Banana," Killian said sharply and Elsa made a noise. "Ten steps back. At least."

"But!"

"Anna," Elsa said quietly, cutting her off before she could start her quick descent into an opinion on dresses and hemlines that Killian was sure would lead him to back out of the Olympics entirely. "Why don't you go make sure the twins haven't torn the living room apart?"

"Aw, c'mon. We haven't even talked about setting a date!"

Killian fell back on the bed, the suitcase shaking just a bit from the force of his overly dramatic move, only vaguely listening to what Elsa was saying and Anna was yelling and it had to be the summer, that was obvious. Even he knew the answer to that part of the not quite-formed-yet plan. He should probably ask Emma first.

Anna grumbled before she, finally, muttered something that might have been an agreement and Killian heard the phone change hands before she started talking again.

"I want a detailed description of the entire thing, KJ," she said and it didn't sound like a suggestion. "Minute by minute updates. Where you're going to do it and when you're going to do it and then I want several photos of Emma's face while you're asking."

"I'm going to be kind of busy, if this goes the way I'm hoping it will, Banana."

"Ew, gross."

"Oh my God."

"Don't ask on the ice, ok? That's just, like, almost too cliché."

"Weren't you all about that before? Out of left field and planning ceremonies in lofts."

"Whatever."

"I think you're deflecting again." Anna groaned and Elsa chuckled softly in the background, murmuring towards Lizzie again. Killian still hadn't actually sat up. "How come you didn't tell me you were there?"

"It was kind of short notice," Anna said. "I've got two weeks off and I haven't seen El and Liam in a while and I'm obviously Lizzie's favorite so I figured…"

"She figured she'd camp out in the guest room for two weeks so all of us could watch you win a gold medal together," Elsa interrupted and Killian's stomach did something absurd.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"For sure."

"You better win, KJ," Anna added. "This whole plan is going to be for naught if you guys get like...bronze or something."

"It's still an Olympic medal, Banana."

"Yeah, but it's not gold. Oh, wait, no is Emma's ring gold?"

Ah, there it was. They'd been dancing it around the whole conversation – mentions of ceremonies and lofts on Fifth Avenue and the plan like that was its official name – but none of them had actually used any of those very specific, vaguely terrifying, very concrete words.

Of course it was Anna.

"Shout it a little louder, why don't you, Banana," Killian mumbled. "I don't think she heard you in the kitchen."

"I didn't shout it. That was a real question."

"And one I'm not going to answer with Emma down the hallway."

"So you have a ring then?"

"Of course I do," Killian sighed, flinging his forearm across his eyes in some poor attempt to block out this conversation entirely. His phone was buzzing in his hand. It probably really was Robin or Will now. They were going to be late.

"Gold?"

"Banana."

"Just say a color, KJ. One word is not going to ruin your whole life."

"Weren't you supposed to be watching the twins several hours ago?"

"They're fine," Anna answered and he was certain she'd brushed her hand through the air for good measure. "They're playing video games with Liam. It's adorable and hockey-related and it doesn't matter at all. One word, KJ."

"No."

"No to the word or if it's gold?"

"The second one." The shriek that came from Colorado had done permanent damage to his eardrum, Killian was certain. And it wasn't just Anna. "Jeez, both of you, relax. You're honestly freaking me out more. This is not…"

"If you say this isn't a big deal, KJ, I will walk to New York and kick you in both of your shins," Elsa hissed.

He hadn't moved his arm away from his eyes – it was getting warm – and his phone buzzed again. Killian groaned, pushing back up and off the bed and grabbing a pair of dress pants from a hanger in the closet. "Both, El? That's aggressive. And you can't walk to New York right now. We've got a flight in a couple of hours."

"That was hyperbole and you know it."

"I don't know, you guys are acting kind of crazy."

"We're excited," she sighed. "And you're…"

"What?"

"Happy."

He couldn't even argue. There wasn't any point. It was obvious. Everyone knew. He was happier than he could ever remember and they were going to the fucking Olympics and maybe he'd keep the ring in his pocket.

Just to be safe.

And then maybe he could just ask...whenever.

Like as soon as they got on the plane.

He was an anxious ass – who knew what he wanted and how long he'd wanted it and that the decidedly not-gold ring would look somewhere close to perfect on Emma's hand.

There was a noise on the other end of the phone – screaming five-year-olds and Liam shouting something that might have been that was absolutely offsides, how could a computer miss that and Killian laughed under his breath, well aware that Elsa and Anna were still listening to him and probably smiling.

"A color, KJ," Anna said again. "Give me a color. Or, at least, a stone."

"That second one is too obvious," Elsa muttered. "Emma will hear."

"So? It's not like she's going to say no. Maybe he should just ask her now and then there won't be this weird thing hanging over them while he tries to get ready for the Games."

"Did you just call an engagement a thing?"

"That's what it is isn't it? What else would you call it?"

Elsa made a skeptical noise, sounding as if she was stunned by the words coming out of her sister's mouth. "Romantic, obviously. I'm surprised you haven't broken into song about it yet."

"Ok, first of all, that's rude. I come here and I look after your kids so you and Liam can get a couple of hours of sleep and all I want is to know what color the ring is! And, you know, maybe a detailed play-by-play of everything that happens before during and after the proposal. But that hardly means I'm going to start singing about it."

"You haven't done anything with the kids except eat pizza with them last night!"

"Blame KJ, then, since I can't leave this conversation before he answers my question."

Elsa groaned again and Lizzie was making it painfully obvious she did not enjoy the amount of noise in the room around her, practically howling when Liam joined the fray. "Everything ok in here?" he asked.

Killian leaned against the side of the closet door – ignoring the sounds his phone kept making and whatever schedule he was late for – and took a deep breath, the movement settling the nerves and the want in the pit of his stomach.

"You guys are something else, you know," he said softly.

"That's not a color," Anna accused as Liam made some sort of skeptical noise in the background.

"Oh," Liam said. "It's silver and a diamond. Right, Killian?"

He was met with a pair of vaguely scandalized what's screamed in his face and a still-crying-infant and Killian could only thank several different religious figures that this phone call hadn't been on FaceTime.

He didn't think he'd be able to handle that.

"Thanks a lot, Liam," Killian mumbled and Liam just hummed in response.

"Were we not all aware of that?"

"No," Elsa and Anna shouted at the same time, voices melding together in a quick succession of questions and demands and Liam's laugh had turned just a bit nervous now.

Good. Served him the hell right.

"KJ," Elsa said slowly as Anna continued to bombard Liam with questions and, what sounded like, several punches to his shoulder. "Did you ask Liam to help pick out a ring?"

Killian scuffed his foot along the floor, running his hand through his hair and tugging until he had to bite his lip to stop himself from wincing in pain. "No," he answered quickly, far too quickly. "At least not entirely. He called and I was thinking about it and…"

Elsa made an understanding noise and Killian winced anyway. "You don't have to be nervous," she said and it sounded like a bit of a promise.

"No? Seems like a pretty big deal, El."

"It is. That doesn't mean she won't say yes. Probably enthusiastically. Even if you do do something stupid and propose on the ice."

He sucked in the air at that word, sinking his teeth into his lip and scratching just behind his ear. "I'm not going to propose on the ice," Killian whispered, eyes darting towards the door as soon as the word was out of his mouth.

Elsa giggled – actually giggled, an excited, overwhelmed type of sound and Killian's eyes widened from the surprise of it. "Don't put it in your luggage," she said.

"I won't."

"Good. And, you know, have some fun too."

"Deal."

He hung up – echoes of win gold and score lots of goals and Liam laughing about, seemingly, everything – and his phone vibrated again.

It wasn't Robin or Will or even Regina. It was David.

Of course it was.

Did you do it yet? You can't tell me that this is happening and then just expect me not to ask all the time. Because you should do it. Soon. Obviously. And then tell me. Because not telling Mary Margaret is actually the most difficult thing I've ever done and I still remember everything that happened on Poker Face night.

Killian grinned in spite of whatever frustration he might have felt at the string of messages, finally zipping the suitcase closed after grabbing a box out of the corner. He'd stuffed it in between two ties.

You need to relax, David.

That's not an answer.

No, obviously. And probably not until we land. Seems kind of normal to do it in our apartment, don't you think?

I just need to know when it happens so Mary Margaret won't start sending Emma wedding ideas immediately. We can't afford that kind of phone bill.

That's not how the internet works.

I don't care. You should ask her in between rounds. Like after pool, but before the medal rounds. Then it's not just...hanging over you.

Why does everyone keep saying that?

Are they?

Killian groaned – loud enough that Emma shouted his name and that was the opposite of what he was trying to accomplish. "You ok?" she asked, leaning around the doorframe. He barely had time to pull his hand behind his back.

"Fine" he answered and she twisted her eyebrows. "I found your tie. It got knotted around one the leaf-type things. Aren't you supposed to give that back, soon? Put it in the Hall of Fame or something?"

"Swan, are you suggesting I should be in the Hall of Fame?"

Emma rolled her eyes, crossing her arms lightly over her chest as she took a step into the room and moved towards the zipped-up suitcase. "Please," she said. "With that ego, I'm surprised you haven't put yourself on the ballot already."

She leaned forward, unzipping the bag and stuffing the tie in and he shouldn't be as nervous as he was. He was going to cut his palm open with the edge of the box clutched in his hand. Killian chewed on the inside of his cheek, not even able to come up with some kind of response that wouldn't just be a half-shouted, half-thought out proposal.

His phone buzzed again.

Maybe he could get Elsa to walk to New York and kill David.

"You sure you're ok?" Emma asked and he tried to push the box into his back pocket when she started walking towards him. "Scarlet won't be too obnoxious on the flight. It's going to be fine."

"I'm not worried about Scarlet."

"So then share with the class. You're doing that thing with your face."

"I don't know what you're talking about, love. I'm fine. Better than fine if this car would get here on time."

As if on cue, a pair of heels clicked down the hallway and Ruby Lucas appeared in their bedroom doorway wearing a shirt that, at first glance, appeared to be just the United States flag. Her highlights, somehow, looked even more red.

"Did I mention Ruby is here too?" Emma asked, eyes widening meaningfully.

"Hey, Jones," Ruby said knowingly, smile tugging on the corners of her mouth and he was half certain she had x-ray vision or the ability to read minds or maybe David just needed to tell someone. God damnit. "Ready to win a gold medal?"

Emma threw him a sympathetic glance, fingers tugging on the front of his shirt as he traced his thumb over the chain around her neck. "You ready to go?"

Ruby raised one eyebrow, grin widening into something almost predatory. This whole team was stupid. Maybe he should just ask her on the plane, if only to get everyone off his back.

No. Romance. This was going to be romantic. There was a plan.

"Yeah, Swan," Killian said, pulling the suitcase off the bed and ignoring whatever Ruby was doing with her face. "Let's go win."

It was a chartered flight – the entire New York Rangers Olympic group filing onto the thing with half-tired faces and carry-on bags and sporting more team-merch than any group of people should – and they didn't take off until nearly nine, something about sleeping through the flight being part of the plan.

Killian only half listened and he didn't really fall asleep.

None of them did, just grumbling throughout the flight as any of them tried to find a way to comfortably fall asleep on a plane and there wasn't one.

Emma sighed, tugging her legs up underneath her legs and pulling her sweatshirt – his sweatshirt – over her knees as she dropped her head on Killian's shoulder. He worked his arm around her out of instinct, tugging her against his side and kissing her hair.

"You're comfortable," she mumbled like it was an excuse and it must have been close to three in the morning. They were probably over an ocean.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Swan."

She laughed softly, burrowing against him until he could feel her nose against his neck and her hand had found its way underneath the edge of his t-shirt, fingers skimming across skin. "God, how are you warm? It's freezing on this plane."

"Climate controlled. Just repurposed oxygen or whatever."

"When did you become some kind of plane expert?" Emma whispered, but he could hear the smile in her voice. He could feel it, her lips against his skin and maybe this counted as romantic. Somewhere over the ocean or maybe Europe and the ring hadn't set off the metal detector, a quick explanation muttered to the security guard before they walked onto the tarmac what felt like an eternity ago.

God, Anna was right. It was all he was going to think about for the next two weeks.

"Hook," a voice came from a few inches away and Killian turned to find a disheveled Roland Locksley in the aisle.

"Yeah, mate?" Killian asked and Emma sat up a bit straighter. She didn't move her hand.

"Are you awake?"

Killian let out a strangled laugh and Emma pressed her lips together tightly, leaning across him to brush her fingers over Roland's forehead. "Can't you sleep, Rol?" she asked.

Roland shook his head. "Dad and Gina are I think. Their eyes are closed, at least, and Henry keeps trying to steal my armrest."

"Didn't you get the window seat, mate?" Killian asked and Roland shrugged. He had. "Did you climb over Henry to get over here?"

"He didn't really wake up," Roland explained. "And you guys are awake."

"Why don't you come up here with us," Emma said, hand finding Roland's as she pulled him towards the tiny amount of space between their seats when she sat back up. And Killian's heart might have moved into his throat or possibly his stomach or maybe it had fallen into whatever ocean they were possibly flying over.

Roland nodded slowly – as if that hadn't been why he'd shown up in the aisle in the first place – stepping on Killian's foot while he worked his way in between them. Emma didn't move her legs, pulling Roland against her front while he swung in his legs over Killian and they were some sort of weird, pretzel-limb hybrid that was actually almost comfortable.

"Hook," Roland muttered again after a few moments and Killian saw Emma smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Go to sleep, Rol."

"I've got a question, though."

"Ask your question," Emma said softly and Roland nodded against her shoulder.

"Are we going to win again?"

Killian felt Emma's eyes dart his direction and tapped his fingers quickly on Roland's jeans. "Yeah, mate," he said without a shadow of doubt. "We're absolutely going to win."

Roland mumbled something under his breath, stretching out over both Killian and Emma. "That's what I thought," he said.

They fell asleep fairly easily after that.

The plane landed at some ungodly time that might have actually been the middle of the afternoon and Killian, simply, didn't have the energy to try and figure out the time difference, blinking blearily when Ruby announced they needed to move.

"Who put you in charge, Lucas?" Will grumbled, swinging his bag over his shoulder with more force than necessary.

"The National Hockey League," Ruby answered as she kicked at his ankles. "C'mon Scarlet. Up and at 'em. We've got breakfast to eat."

The entire plane might have groaned and there were more than a few sorry, Rol and sorry, Henry when several of them started cursing Ruby and her plan and the National Hockey League. Emma widened her eyes when Killian muttered something under his breath.

"It'll be fine," she said, fingers lacing through his and her thumb brushed across the back of his left hand. He smiled at her.

"Of course, Swan."

Ruby tapped her shoe impatiently, nodding towards the open door and the tarmac and, likely, the fleet of cars waiting to take them to a restaurant and Killian was momentarily stunned by how detailed this plan was.

Maybe he should be taking notes.

He could ask Emma in the car. They'd probably be by themselves.

No, they wouldn't.

Of course not.

"Can we go, please?" Ruby snapped and the entire group groaned at the command in her voice. "God, guys, come on. This is not that bad. We're in the Olympics."

"We're tired," Killian muttered. "And some of us would like to shower." He glanced towards Emma, enjoying the way he could practically see the blush move up her cheeks and the back of her neck. She rolled her eyes at him.

And Ruby did not look impressed.

"Shut up, Cap," she said, pushing on Robin's shoulder like that would, somehow, get all of them to start moving. "Come on, we've got a schedule to stick to. And I'm starving."

They didn't have much choice to listen – Robin, finally, taking that first step with Roland hanging against his side, Regina and Henry just a few feet behind – and they must have painted a very specific picture on their way off the plane and into the cars and, eventually, the restaurant.

"Alright," Ruby said, leaning forward with her palms pressed flat against the table and she barely missed a beat when the whole lot of them just kept eating. "Hey," she snapped, hitting her water glass down with enough force to shake the slightly rickety table. "Eyes up here."

"Teacher voice," Emma mumbled and Killian didn't think she kept leaning against his side because she was exhausted. "You been talking to Reese's, Rubes?"

Ruby glared at her. "Whatever, Emma. I need you guys to listen. There are rules here and plans and we've got to talk about them before you all dissolve into post-breakfast puddles of nonsense."

"This is not your best speech, Lucas," Will said, tugging Roland up so he didn't fall off his leg. He'd fallen asleep somewhere in between the initial rounds of coffee and the food.

"God," Ruby groaned, half-shouting the word as she rolled her head back towards the ceiling. "I hate all of you. I hope none of you get out of pool play. Except you, Phillip. You can stay."

Phillip looked momentarily stunned that he'd been called out, eyes widening and he nearly dropped his mug. "Uh," he stuttered, staring at his plate. "Thanks, uh, thanks Ruby."

Will didn't look impressed. "Lucas, he's not even American. You can't pick him as your favorite. That's unpatriotic or something."

"I mean, that's not totally true," Phillip argued. "I am American. I'm just not playing for the United States during the Games."

"Explain that to me again," Robin said, suddenly interested in the conversation once he finished the cup of coffee in his hand. It was, at least, his third. Killian had only been half counting. "And how you're still going to stay with Scarlet in the Village when you're not actually American?"

Phillip rolled his head onto his shoulder and Ruby almost looked sympathetic. Or just tired. "I'm American," he continued. "But my mom is from Lithuania and still has citizenship and so I could play for them. It got me here, that's it."

"And he gets to stay with Scarlet because the Olympic committee is very easy to persuade," Regina added. Robin grinned at her, arms around her and Henry and if Killian didn't know there was a goddamn ring in his pocket, he probably would have walked away from all of this family.

But he couldn't quite get the image of Roland curled up against Emma out of his mind and maybe he'd ask her when they got back to the hotel.

God.

This shouldn't be difficult. This should be as easy as everything else had been – as talking and kissing and he couldn't fall asleep without her next to him and all he wanted was that indefinitely...for the rest of his life.

Seemed simple enough.

It wasn't.

"Cap," Ruby snapped and he nearly dislocated his shoulder moving up to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"Did you even hear a single thing I just said?"

"No," Killian answered honestly and Emma tried not to laugh too loudly. It didn't work at all. "Sorry, Ruby. Go ahead."

"I was. You were just ignoring me."

"Well, circle back around or something."

Ruby sighed and Emma's fingers had found their way into the back of his hair, nails scraping lightly across the base of his skull – and that wasn't doing much to keep him focused, or awake. "Fine," Ruby hissed and the whole table seemed to snap to attention. "We've got tomorrow off so we don't all pass out somewhere and then you guys have media on Tuesday. Wait, wait, is that Tuesday? How does time work here?"

"It's not a different universe, Lucas," Robin mumbled.

"Isn't this your schedule, Rubes?" Emma asked. "And, yes, media is on Tuesday." Killian flashed her a smile over his shoulder and she rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite stop the ends of her lips from moving up and her fingers didn't stop tracing out a pattern through his hair.

"Well, good thing you know," Ruby continued. "Since you're in charge of the four of them."

Killian rolled his shoulders – he was going to hurt his neck if he stayed twisted around like this. "Rubes is doing most of the Team USA stuff and I'm just in charge of us."

His pulse thudded at that and he was half certain she could hear it, but they were still a table in a restaurant he didn't know the name of and there was still another two hours before they got to hotels and that shower he'd been so anxious for.

Ruby hit her glass again and there was, apparently, more to the schedule. "So, Ems is doing you guys and getting you to media and we do that on Tuesday and then opening ceremonies that night and if you guys don't wear your country-appointed outfits I will kill you all, slowly and painfully. Except you Phillip, you're not American."

"Oh my God," Phillip muttered, but Ruby hardly missed a beat.

"Opening ceremonies Tuesday night, then we get another day and you should probably sleep, but, maybe try and learn something too in between more media, then pool play starts on Wednesday and, again, if you guys don't roll, I'll kill you."

She paused for half a moment, leveling the table with a very specific type of stare, as if she were waiting for any of them to object. They didn't.

"Scarlet and Phillip have agreed to do a video series in the Village since they're the only ones willing to have some sort of Olympic experience and Emma's in charge of that too," Ruby continued.

"More like we were told we were going to do a video series," Will muttered and Emma glared at him, mouthing the words shut up across the table.

Ruby didn't blink. "The actual, important rounds start next week. We'll probably play Phillip's non-American country if the brackets play out the way they should and if that happens, then we're absolutely going to do a team thing about that. Right, Em?"

"Right," Emma agreed. Her hair had found its way into Killian's face, her back pressed up against his chest when his arm found its way around her waist and Robin kept shooting them furtive glances over large piles of breakfast food.

"Then there's more media during that second week, more videos, we should probably take Henry and Rol somewhere so we're not all the worst group of adults in the world and, then, you guys win a gold medal. Sorry, Phillip."

Phillip shrugged once and Will pushed up from the table as soon as Ruby's mouth was closed. "Sounds great, Lucas," he said, tugging down his Team USA-provided hat with as much energy as someone who'd slept in spurts the night before could. "Can we get going though? If I have to watch Cap and Emma stare at each other anymore I can't be held accountable for my actions."

"We're not even looking at each other," Emma argued. She tried to move, tried to sit up and, probably, get her hair out of Killian's face and he didn't let go of her – if anything he tightened his arm, kissing the top of her head until the scent of that vanilla shampoo she was obsessed with had worked its way into him.

Definitely in the hotel room.

Maybe after the shower.

Preferably before they both collapsed from exhaustion and jet-lag.

"No, no this is good for the team," Ruby countered "That picture of them with Roland is going to be the best thing that's ever happened to any of us."

"Well, on that note," Killian said sharply and Emma moved with him as soon as he stood up. "Can we go, please, Lucas?"

Ruby stared at him and for half a second Killian was convinced she was reading his mind. Her eyes flitted across his face, head tilted slightly like she was thinking something important, but she didn't actually say anything, just nodded towards the door and the cars and the two-hour drive in front of them.

Killian hummed in the back of his throat, arm till looped over Emma's shoulders and none of them moved very quickly, trudging across the restaurant in a sea of red, white, blue and a Team Lithuania jacket.

Someone shouted good luck at them, a flag waved towards them and they hadn't gone very far from the airport. That was probably why the restaurant was ready for them.

The car doors were already flung open when they made their way outside and Emma climbed into the back, grumbling about warm and tiredand Killian was half a step behind her before Robin caught him around the wrist, pulling him up short.

"Jeez, Locksley," he groaned. "You're going to break my wrist."

"I can't muster up enough energy to do that."

"What's the matter? You want Henry or Rol to come with us or something?"

"No, no, they're both already asleep."

Robin didn't say anything else, staring at his sneakers with his hands pushed in his pockets and Killian narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What's going on with you?"

"Come here," Robin muttered quickly, tugging Killian away from the car. And Emma. And heat. God, two more hours before a hotel.

He was the most pessimistic Olympian in the history of the world.

"What?" Killian asked, doing his best not to sigh out the world.

Robin pressed his lips together, eyes darting around like he was looking for someone to be eavesdropping on this conversation. "Are you serious?"

"Locksley, I spent most of a fourteen-hour plane ride with your kid's right foot in my liver. I am far too tired to be playing games with you right now."

"What is that, then," Robin said, pointed forcibly at Killian's jacket pocket. His heart was on the ground now. That couldn't have been very sanitary.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Killian mumbled, rushing over the words and crossing his arms tightly over his chest. That didn't help. At all. It just pulled the fabric even tighter and pushed the ring box into his side and it was like some kind of flashing, neon light in Times Square, complete with a moving arrow pointing at his pocket and the ring and half a plan.

If he ever got back in the car.

"You have always been an awful liar," Robin said, shaking his head knowingly and, well, if Liam couldn't get to the other side of the world, than Locksley would have to serve as some sort of support substitute. He'd been doing it for years anyway.

"You absolutely can't tell Scarlet. He's got to do that whole video series with Emma and he won't be able to keep his mouth shut."

"And you think you're going to be able to not ask her in the first week we're here? Please."

"I haven't figured that part out yet."

Robin groaned, staring at him like he couldn't quite believe what Killian had said. "Jeez, Cap. That's the most important part!"

Regina glanced at them when Robin started yelling and Killian hit his shoulder, widening his eyes meaningfully. "Shut up, Locksley. God."

Robin sighed again, trying to pull Killian's arms apart so he would inadvertently announce what he had in his pocket. "In between rounds seems like a good idea. Then you guys have some time to, I don't know, wallow."

"I don't think that's the word you're looking for."

"Ah, whatever, you know what I mean. In between rounds, Cap. For sure. Take her somewhere historic or something."

Killian rolled his eyes, finally, uncrossing his arms, just to stuff his hands in his pockets. He wrapped his fingers around the box and Robin was probably right – he wasn't sure he'd be able not to ask her in a week.

"It'll be fine," Robin promised, squeezing his shoulder for good measure.

"Yeah, that's the general consensus."

"Who else knows?"

"The whole lot of them in Colorado."

Robin nodded, smile working its way across his face and he'd really settled into older brother, the pride practically radiating off of him. "Did Anna plan the whole thing yet?"

"She's got a loft picked out on Fifth Ave already, I'm sure."

"Of course she does. Tell you what, Cap. I'll bet you."

"What is this team's obsessions with bets?" Killian groaned, glancing towards the car and he could just barely make out Emma's feet pulled up on the backseat.

"Hey, I didn't get in on any of that stuff with you and Scarlet before."

"So now you want to bet on my engagement," he hissed and that was the first time he'd said that. He hoped Robin didn't hear his voice practically crack on the word. He absolutely did.

"A week," Robin said. "I'm giving you a week at most before you cave and just propose on the ice."

"God, everyone needs to stop assuming I'm going to propose on the ice. That is other levels of Mrs. V cliché."

Robin shrugged. "It's almost romantic."

"It's not happening. So what, if I ask her before a week you get something? That's twisted, Locksley."

"Nah, Cap. It's fun. C'mon, Scarlet wanted to bet on A's kid! This isn't even nearly as weird as that." Killian rolled his eyes – but he hadn't actually disagreed yet, and Robin knew he'd won. He squeezed his shoulder again. "I'll let you know stakes once I decide."

He was gone half a moment later, jogging towards an expectant Regina and two sleeping kids in the backseat and Killian gripped the box in his hand a little tighter.

"Killian?" Emma asked, leaning out of the still-open door to the car. "You ready to go?"

He nodded once, smiling at her before he could stop himself as he pulled the door shut behind him. She kept her feet on the seat, but pulled herself against his side and it only took a few minutes before he knew she'd fallen asleep, hand draped over his waist while his fingers toyed with the end of her hair.

The plan, it seemed, was relatively easy, after all.

Get to the Olympics. Win a gold medal. Propose to Emma Swan.

He was probably going to lose the bet.