Nightmares ~ a Captain Swan fic

Chapter Three ~Killian~

I'm awoken from my most un-peaceful slumber by a hand shaking my shoulder lightly.
"Killian...Killian, it's me." The Thing That Is Waking Me Up says.
Wait a minute, I know that voice.
Emma.
My eyes dart open and I see her concerned face frowning down upon mine, then I see it quickly change to relieved when she sees that I'm awake.

•••••

At around 8:30 AM, Swan and I are sitting across from each other in a table at Granny's. I'm holding my glass of water with one hand, my hook resting on the counter. Emma is sipping her hot chocolate (with cinnamon) with one hand grasping the cup tightly-I can tell because her knuckles appear to be turning white. Her other hand rests lightly on my hook. Not exactly how I imagined holding hands with a woman, but this is Emma. I don't care what we're doing as long as we're together. Emma sets down her hot chocolate (with cinnamon) on the table, lifts her hand off of my hook, and folder her fingers together, elbows resting on the table. I didn't realize I was staring at her hand on my hook until she took her hand off.
"First thing's first." Emma states. I look up at her face, and I can't help but laugh a little: some whipped cream has decided to stay just above Emma's lips. I set my water down, and with my good hand, take a napkin and brush it off. Emma looks bewildered as I do so, and takes the napkin from me and frantically wipes her mouth with it.
"You were saying, love?" I say, trying not to laugh at the recent memory of Emma's face when she realized that some whipped cream was still on her face. Emma regains her composure and speaks.
"Killian, look: If you want Me and You to be 'a thing,' then you have got to be honest with me. If something's not fine, then tell me god dammit. Especially when your heart has been taken out by your eternal enemy and you're being used as a puppet to do his dirty work, okay? Especially when that happens. I..." Emma hesitates. "I can't lose you, Killian." Emma says sternly, yet worriedly. Her words have an impact on me. I should have told her what was wrong from the very beginning-should have told her where I got my hand, how I got it back, why and when my heart was taken out-everything. But I didn't. And I hate myself for it everyday. My good hand finds Emma's and I hold it, not breaking eye contact with her. Gods, those beautiful green eyes. I lean across the table and my lips find Emma's. We kiss for a moment when I hear something.
The sound of the little bell that hangs above the door to Granny's Diner rings as a customer walks in. Actually, by the sound of it, two. I open my eyes. I'm the one facing the door, and I can feel warmness spreading rapidly across my face as I drink in the fact of the couple that just walked into Granny's. I almost have the urge to laugh at the irony of this.
"Killian? What's wrong?" Emma asks. She turns her head around, her golden locks swishing behind her. Even though I can't see her face, I know it's gone slack.
"Mom? Dad?" Emma says.