Captain Swan One-Shots

Second Chance, Part 17a

Killian gazed at the ocean, a smile tugging at his mouth. He then released a breath as he climbed out of his truck.

He grabbed his leather jacket before he noticed blinking from the corner of his eye. As he shrugged it on, he wondered aloud, "What has she put together?"

He continued down to the beach – only to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

A checkered blanket lay over the sand. String lights hung between wooden poles, and soft music played from a radio.

Emma stood in the middle of the blanket, a picnic basket in her hand. She darted her eyes and shifted from one foot to the other.

With his eyes still wide – and his feet still glued to his spot – he questioned, "Swan - Emma - you did all this for me?"

She nodded. She then cleared her throat and said, "I just wanted to do something...to show you how much I...care."

She averted her eyes. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

He then shook it and closed the distance between them. He placed his finger under her chin and tilted up her head.

"It's absolutely marvelous, love. I love it."

She smiled. She then pressed her lips to his, threading her fingers through his hair.

When they pulled away, they rested their foreheads together. He squeezed her waist and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Shall we eat now, love? I'm rather starved."

She picked up the basket from where she had dropped it. A blush rose to her cheeks.

Killian chuckled before he teased, "It's quite alright, love. I'm used to you being distracted by my dashing self."

She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. He chuckled once more.

He then tapped the basket. "May I open it? I'm intrigued to see what you've made."

She gestured to the blanket as she suggested, "Let's sit first, okay?"

He nodded before the pair sat down. He reached for the basket and rested it in his lap. Once he opened it, he couldn't help but smile as his eyes found hers.

"Pizza? Very good choice, Swan."

She smiled back. She rested her chin in her hand as she offered, "I hope you like it. I wasn't sure about how much sauce or, uh, toppings to put on it, but I think it turned out okay."

Killian's eyes widened. The lid snapped shut from where he still held it.

"You made pizza from scratch?"

"Yeah," Emma replied. The smile she wore then faded, and she buried her face in her hands.

He placed the basket aside and moved onto his knees, cupping her face in his hands.

"Love, what's the matter?"

She pulled away and rose to her feet. She paced around and around, nearly running into the string lights.

Killian followed her, finally managing to stop in front of her.

"Emma, tell me what's wrong."

She raked her fingers through her hair. Tears threatened to spill as she complained, "That's just it, Killian. I made you pizza. Pizza! I could have just as easily made a romantic dinner – like you always do – but no, I made the greasiest and cheesiest food there is. God, what is wrong with me?"