One thing Emma had managed to come to terms with since breaking the curse on Storybrooke was coming across characters and stories that she had seen again and again in books, movies or cartoons growing up. The world she used to dream of as a lonely girl stuck in the foster care system—a world where blue fairies helped keep father and son united, true love's kiss could conquer all and all lost children would eventually find their place in the world—was real.
Her mother was Snow White. Her father Prince Charming.
She'd met Sleeping Beauty and the Evil Queen, her son's grandfather was Rumplestiltskin and she frequently ate lunch with several of the Seven Dwarves. Lunch served to her by Little Red Riding Hood, no less.
So it came as no surprise to her that she was told "As you wish," after her first kiss with a pirate.
What actually came as a surprise to her was how it all did not go wrong.
He didn't die in Neverland, and neither did she. He didn't disappear after they made it back to Storybrooke (despite how much David wanted him to) and he didn't betray her.
Though one time he certainly made it seem like he did. It made her wish for simpler days of stealing cars and shoplifting sometimes—the constant plans-within-plans and alliances-within-alliances thing that seemed prevalent throughout Storybrooke. But the important thing—as he so helpfully pointed out—was that he did not actually betray her.
And that first kiss wasn't a one-time thing. She should have known better the moment she said it. She did know (though perhaps did not admit it) the moment he said that phrase as she was walking away.
Actually, there was a lot more kissing after that. Passionate, open mouth kissing with nails scraping skin and pulling hair and tugging each other closer, closer. There was lip biting and breath ghosting over the skin of her neck, her chest, her stomach. There were also every day kisses. Rushed kisses goodbye in the open doorway of her apartment before Henry could wake up, light affectionate kisses followed by a small tug on her hair and a rakish grin as they stood on the sidewalk, a barely there brush on her temple as she fell asleep.
There were even the perfect story-like kisses: a kiss on the bow of ship underneath a clear night sky, a kiss in the rain, a kiss during a dance.
Thankfully though, there were no sleeping curse kisses. She could do without that.
But even without one, it again came with no surprise that after one of those many kisses, her pirate leaned his forehead against hers and whispered another three word phrase against her lips.
Mary Margaret was in danger. Emma had a sword in her hand, a crossbow on her back, and the ground was literally shaking apart beneath them. Still, Emma grasped the collar of his leather jacket, pulled him closer, and couldn't help the little smile on her face, because if so many stories were coming to life then why not that one too?
"I know," she replied.