AN: (This is my first Captain Swan fic, so please let me know what you think.) Based off of the quote from the HIMYM episode, First Time in New York. There is a very good chance I'll be writing one from Hook's perspective, but in the mean time, enjoy!
First, there's the moment when you think you think it.
She's supposed to be helping her mother wash dishes, but (as is often the case) Emma found herself utterly distracted by the pirate in their living room.
He's in his attire from their second official date-a stunningly modern button down-and he looks devastatingly handsome. Emma catches herself staring as Hook and her father's voices boom throughout the small apartment. This side of Hook-the side that, at the end of the night, had asked to come inside, had greeted her parents jovially, had even held Baby Neal-made Emma acutely aware of something in her chest.
Mary Margaret caught Emma's gaze with a knowing eye. And though she rolled her eyes at her mother's comments, Emma couldn't deny the feeling that had taken root in her. But the intensity of it was just a glimmer, and then it was gone.
There's the moment when you think you know it.
It's so simple a gesture, that at first Emma can't believe it's the thing that causes her mind to snap into place.
She's in Hook's arms, the pair of them drunk on post-coital bliss, and Emma knows she should be leaving, but she can't bring herself to get out of his bed. Hook is running his fingers along her arm, intrigued by the way it raises goosebumps on her skin. "Henry will be awake soon." he whispers, because while Killian never wants her to leave, he knows she must.
Emma makes a sound that's almost noncommittal, but she shifts in a way that means she's getting ready to go. "Yeah." she agrees, reluctant to leave the warmth of Hook and his sheets.
Several minutes tick by in the quiet, during which Emma is thinking of every excuse possible to stay where she is. Of course she can't, though, and a few more seconds pass before she finally sits up. "Okay." she grumbles, tossing the sheets off of her. She collects her clothes as rapidly as she can, hoping in vain that it will make leaving easier.
Once she's dressed, Emma flops back onto the bed. Not just yet, she wagers, snuggling back into the mattress and her pirate. Hook chuckles, but he's glad, and they lay there for a minute longer until Emma thinks it's really time she be going.
With a heavy sigh, Emma stands. "I'll see you tonight?" she wonders, fighting to keep any neediness from her voice. She feels ridiculous, because it'll only be hours, but the thought alone feels like days.
"Aye." Hook confirms, smirking. He knows Emma isn't the kind of woman who clings to others, especially those she's slept with. The knowledge that he's the exception pleases him in a way that he can't describe. "Until then."
Emma grins, just the tiniest bit wistful, and crosses to the door. "Bye." she manages, turning to face him once more. Hook's smug look falls away, and in its place comes a real smile.
"Goodbye, Emma." he murmurs, and then she's gone. But in the hallway, she leans against his door, stunned for reasons she can't explain. There had been no 'lass', or 'love', or even 'Swan'. No shit-eating grin or suggestive tone. Just that bare affection Hook had been displaying more and more often lately.
Emma knew it was probably something he'd said without a second thought, but Hook's use of her real name threw her for a loop.
And she knows that it's her name, for Christ's sake, but the way he says it-so carefully, like it's something both beautiful and dangerous-stirs something in Emma. The same feeling she'd only scratched the surface of in the past, yet one that seems to only grow stronger the more time she spends with Killian Jones.
There's the moment when you know you know it, but you can't yet say it.
Emma wraps herself tighter into Killian's jacket, shielding her skin from the sharp sea breeze. Jolly Roger or not, Hook couldn't be kept from the water. He'd taken to sailing a significantly smaller boat, and Emma could see the childlike excitement-the pirate in him- that took over when on board.
Excitement which was matched only by Henry's. The kid loved sailing, and though Emma often felt nauseous on the boat, she complied to please her son. Emma turned away from the water now, glancing over her shoulder to watch the show that was on display by the steering wheel.
She had to hand it (no pun intended) to Hook. The guy was great with Henry, and not just in respect to sailing. Emma believed that Killian was a good influence for her son, former pirate and all. Hook was definitely a fan of Henry, and it was good for the kid to have something close to a father figure (David was just as well, but she had his own children to take care of).
Henry, Emma knew, liked Hook just as much. The two had become much closer in the recent weeks, and Emma couldn't say that this fact didn't excite her as much as it terrified her.
She watches the two of them now, can see the big smiles gracing their faces. My boys, Emma thinks sappily. They're too far away for her to hear their words, but the laughter they elicit feels like an alarm in Emma's head.
She realizes it then. She's completely gone, in too deep, and despite any resounding fears, Emma knows that there's no pulling back from Hook now. And she can see it, not far off of the horizon, a kind of future.
She can't hide it much longer, Emma knows, but for now it's her little (not so) secret.
And then there's the moment when you know you know it, and you can't keep it in any longer.
It had been a long, shitty day for Emma. With little productivity and a cold that wouldn't let up, she was in a bad mood, to say the least.
After leaving the Sheriff's station, she had hoped to just go home and spend the night with Henry, Netflix, and some takeout.
But as she shut the door to her bug, ready to start the engine, Emma's phone alerted her to a text from Henry. Reading it over, Emma's mood plummeted further to be informed that her son was staying at Regina's for the night. As she drove home, though, Emma decided that there was another guy she wouldn't mind spending the night with.
Back at her apartment, Emma fumbled for her key. Before she could unlock the door, it swung open for her, revealing a familiar face. Emma felt the smile break through her crappy mood. "I was just going to call you." she told Hook, entering through the threshold. "How'd you get in here?"
He grinned, taking Emma's leather jacket from her to hang it up. "Your father mentioned that you weren't having the most splendid day, and I figured I might rectify that." His tone was without his usual suggestive nature, and she could that Hook genuinely wanted to cheer her up. Even after months of dating, Emma still marveled at his kindness.
The way Hook cared so much touched her, and she smiled again, softly. But then Emma quirked an eyebrow, always ready to give her pirate a hard time. "Still doesn't explain how you got into my apartment, you creep."
Hook had a cheeky grin on his face now-always, like Emma, up for banter. "Not that I believe you mind a dashing man in your home," he teased, "But Henry permitted me to borrow his key. Kind lad he is."
Emma smiled proudly, because he was. "Remind me to thank him." she murmured, then made her way into the kitchen. "So, what do you want from Granny's?" she asked, picking up the landline.
Coming around the counter, Hook brandished two to-go containers. "Already done." he boasted, handing one to Emma. "Your usual, love."
Admittedly, she was a little too touched that Hook remembered her frequent order. Emma insisted it was just gratitude after a terrible day, despite the knots in her stomach.
Later, as they were curled up on her couch, Emma was feeling the brunt of her sickness. Her throat was sore, and despite her best efforts to avoid coughing, Hook sensed her discomfort.
"I'll get you something hot for your throat." Hook offered, against Emma's protests that she was fine. He noted with some amusement how fitting it was that Emma was the type to deny being ill, and went into the kitchen. From her seat on the couch, Emma craned her neck to watch him.
Hook looked strangely serene there, easily finding the necessary ingredients in the various cupboards. Emma felt suddenly, embarrassingly, gooey towards the guy. He seemed so at home-in her home-that ideas began flying around in Emma's head (all of which she pointedly ignored).
As Hook made his way back to her, mug in hand, Emma averted her eyes. The last thing she needed was to be caught "making eyes at him" when he was unaware, knowing that Hook would never let her live it down.
"For you." he murmured, handing out the hot chocolate. Emma reached for it, forcing herself to relax, and Hook let out a noise of despair.
"Forgot the cinnamon." he answered in response to Emma's questioning look. And again, like those rare times when he used her first name, or when he remembered her usual, Emma felt an intense affection for Captain Hook.
By the time he'd returned, cinnamon in hand, offering it out to her with the sweetest expression, Emma felt the waves of that same something overwhelming her. She would drown if she didn't tell him.
"I love you." Emma blurted, and the gentle look on Hook's face fell into one of shock. But when he echoed the words back to her, his eyes were dancing with a kind of relief Emma had never seen.