Roommates

Chapter 35

The ending is approaching us...

Killian's POV

It was possible that she just had the stomach flu. But, I still us rushed home. She had passed out, and I wasn't going to wake her. I planned to get her inside and back in bed and all comfortable before she woke up. But, Emma Swan had always been a light sleeper. I figured it was because of the years of being in the foster system, but she had never told me. I wasn't going to pry, but it was pretty easy to read in between the lines. She was an open book. Always have been, always will be.

When I pulled into the driveway, I grabbed her suitcase first. I took it upstairs into our bedroom and then ran back out to get Emma. I picked her up carefully and carried her upstairs. I laid her down on the pillows and changed her clothes. I put a pair of my sweatpants on her and one of my shirts. I went to the bathroom and grabbed two buckets and a washcloth. I filled one bucket up with lukewarm water and placed the other next to her on the floor, just in case she had to throw up. I dipped the washcloth into the water and pressed it to her skin. I had to lower her fever. If she wasn't better by morning, I would have to make a doctor's appointment for her.

After a half an hour, I put the washcloth down and laid down next to her. I ran my fingertips up and down her arm, wanting her to know that I was there when she woke up. I didn't want her to be scared. Eventually, Emma started to stir in her sleep. Her eyebrows furrowed and I wondered what she was dreaming about.

"Stop," she mumbled, still sleeping.

"Shh, darling. I'm here. I got you," I whispered.

She relaxed and I laid down again. I brought her close to me and held her tightly, and then drifted off to sleep myself.

Emma's POV

I woke up but couldn't move. There was something holding me. Or someone. I chuckled slightly as I saw Killian's arms around me. His face buried in my hair. I slowly sat up, feeling a lot better than before. I was sweating, hopefully meaning that my fever had broken. I trudged to the bathroom and brushed my hair and teeth before laying back down. Killian turned over, bringing my arm with him. I smiled and kissed his shoulder and then fell asleep again, hoping that I would be one hundred percent better when I woke up. Or, close to it at least.

I didn't wake up again until the late evening. I felt something on my forehead, and water drip down the sides of my face, landing in my hair, making it damp. The cloth was taken from my head and I looked over to see not Killian, but Graham beside me. I gasped and threw my fist over at him, landing a punch to his chest. He didn't move. Instead, he just smiled at me.

"Hi, Emma," he said in his smooth Irish accent.

"Get out of here," I hissed. "Where's Killian?"

"He ran out for some errands. He called me saying that you were sick and someone had to watch you."

"He called you?" I asked. He nodded and I let out a sigh of relief. "Killian doesn't have your phone number, and he hates your guts. This is a dream."

I suddenly woke up again alone in my bed. I pushed the blankets back and went downstairs. Killian was on the couch watching tv while eating something. I sat down beside him. He paused his movie and put his bowl of soup down, and leaned over and pressed his cheek to my forehead.

"Fever's gone down. That's a good sign," he said. "Want some chicken noodle soup? I know it's your favorite. And it's homemade."

I put my hands over my stomach and shook my head. "Anything that I've tried to eat just came back up."

"You have to eat in order to feel better. Please? Just a little bowl? For me?"

I sighed, slowly nodding my head as I gave in. "Fine. Just a little bit." He jumped from the couch and went into the kitchen. I laid my head down against the back of the couch and closed my eyes. I was still tired, but I felt a little bit better. I hated to be sick. But, I think Killian liked it. I was in his sights at all times. He came back in and handed me my soup, and leaned down. I didn't know what he wanted. "What?" I asked, completely confused.

He sat down and leaned in, giving me one of his signature smirks. "Kiss me."

"I'm sick."

"I've noticed. Kiss me."

"You'll get sick."

He shrugged. "Just a little cold." I took a gulp of my soup in a not so graceful way and he chuckled. He wiped away some of the broth that had slipped down my chin. "No kisses?"

"The soup is really good," I complimented, not answering him.

"Cmon, love. I'm not gonna get sick." I huffed in frustration and pecked his lips. I quickly pulled away and continued to eat. "A real kiss, Emma."

"No!" I yelled. And the instant I did, I felt awful about it. He just looked so shocked. "I'm sorry." I looked down to my soup and pushed the spoon back and forth.

"Did I do something to make you mad?"

"No, you're completely fine," I whispered. I put my bowl down and brought my knees to my chest. "I just don't feel well and I don't want you to get sick." He brought me close to his chest and I held onto him tightly.

"You don't have to worry about me, love." He kissed the top of my head. "There will never be a reason or time when I don't want to kiss you and hold you in my arms. Got it?" I nodded in response and he tipped my head up. He slowly pressed his lips to mine in a sweet and gentle kiss. I responded, refusing to fight him. "Good," he whispered on my lips when we pulled away.