Chapter 10: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

Emma wasn't sure how long they'd been lying together on the floor, but it had definitely been a while.

"This can't possibly be comfortable for you," she said into Hook's shoulder, thinking of the hard planks under his back.

"I assure you I am quite content," he replied, drawing a lazy circle onto her back with his fingers.

So was she, Emma thought, feeling the comforting solid warmth of his body under hers.

It was over, she was sure. Her head felt clear for the first time since the night of the ball, the potion must have worn off. The fever had been it's last hurrah, the final attempt to get her to submit, and it had almost worked. She had felt like she was going to jump right out of her skin, that she would go insane if she didn't give in to it, but Hook had managed to find another way. She had known he would, she had insisted as much to Regina, demanding that she cast the protection spell that would give him the time to do it. She had been reluctant, but she had finally given in.

"You can't let it go on too long, Emma. I don't know had bad it will get, you could start having seizures, or worse."

Emma was resolute, "We've gotten this far, we can figure this out."

"Is it really such a bad thing? You can't tell me that you don't want to sleep with him, I'm not blind, you know. And there is absolutely no way that Hook does not want you. He practically reeks of it."

Regina looked up from the line she was drawing on the floor. Emma sighed, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her oversize sweater, feeling the cuffs of the shirt she was wearing under it, Hook's shirt. It rubbed against her skin, a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was all she'd allow herself.

"Yeah," Emma said, "I know, but not like this. He'll think it's just because of the potion."

And he feels guilty enough as it is and I will not do this to him.

Emma closed her eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness crash over her. When it passed she opened them again and saw Regina staring at her, eyes narrowed.

"Are you talking about you or him?" Regina asked, putting her hands on her thighs and pushing herself back into a standing position. Emma looked away and didn't answer.

"Last chance," Regina said.

Emma met her gaze again and nodded. Regina waved her hand over the line, muttering an incantation, and Emma watched as a blue veil rose from the floor to the ceiling, flashing bright before fading away. She reached out and felt it, the barrier that would keep her from attacking him as soon as she saw him. She had left the great room earlier because of it, feeling the weight of his gaze on her, he'd been watching her all day and it was too much, the itch under her skin driving her mad. She burned with it, it had been simmering for days and she was boiling over.

"Emma!" Regina's voice was sharp and Emma forced herself to focus, sensing that it was not the first time the other woman had said it.

"I'll go get him," Regina said, and pointed at her, "But for the record, I think this is stupid."

Emma frowned. Regina had said the spell would last for hours, but the fact that she was currently pillowed on top of Hook was evidence to the contrary. She tried to remember through the haze she had been feeling, recalling falling to the floor and then feeling him hovering over her, scooping her into his arms.

"How'd you get through the spell?" she asked.

"The Queen gave me the words to break it," he replied.

She was confused, "Wait, what?"

"She told me that I might need to get to you. I didn't understand what she meant at first, but when you told me she cast the spell, I realized she thought I would need a way to get through. A curse-breaker."

Emma did remember him saying something, but she hadn't made it out, everything had gone so fuzzy when the fever broke,"What was it?" she wondered.

"Knocking boots."

She let out an exasperated puff of air, "Knocking boots? Are you kidding me?"

"Just a nonsense phrase, like the key to a cipher."

"It's not a nonsense phrase, it's Regina's sick sense of humour. It's an expression, if you say two people are knocking boots, it means they're..." She let her voice trail off suggestively and she could practically feel him get it, his body tensed slightly under hers before relaxing again.

"Oh. If you would be so good as to prepare me a list of such expressions, I would appreciate it. I would not want to be caught unawares were you to offer to, ahem, knock boots with me."

"Yeah," Emma snorted, "You think everything I say is a come on anyway."

She felt a flash of annoyance at Regina, but it faded away quickly. She wasn't that surprised that Regina had left behind a trapdoor for Hook, and it had been a good idea. If Emma had known, she would have begged him to use it and he would have probably given in, and they'd be on the floor for another reason. And he would be filled with guilt and she'd be filled with anger, not at him, but at the whole situation.

"That was quite a risk you took," Hook said quietly.

Emma closed her eyes, "Not really. I knew you'd think of something."

Of course, that something had turned out to be a release if a different kind. Emma remembered what she had said, what he had said, the emotions pouring out of them like a breached dam, bottled up for too damn long and with the power to knock them off their feet and drown them. In many ways, sex would have been easier to deal with.

"Your faith in me is that strong?"

Hook sounded surprised, and she didn't really blame him. She did a decent job of keeping him at arm's length most of the time, answering his flirting with sarcasm and pretending she didn't catch the deeper meaning behind his words.

A kiss at her door in New York, "I had hoped you felt as I did."

Francis attempting to kiss her on the terrace the night of the ball, "You will feel what I feel." She owed that bastard a severe beatdown.

Emma lifted up and looked at him. Hook had his arm behind his neck, propping his head up so he could look at her.

"Well, you haven't let me down yet," Emma said.

He stated at her, those bright blue eyes intent on her face, his own slightly guarded, "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired," Emma answered honestly, "Sweaty, gross, tired, cold and tired. Did I mention tired?"

"Cold?" he repeated. Emma nodded, she had barely anything on and the room wasn't very warm. In the grips of the fever it had felt like she'd been standing in a furnace, but since it broke she'd gradually begun to feel a chill.

Hook's arm tightened on her back and then he rolled her gently, setting her on the floor. Emma sat up while he stood and went over to the bed. He came back with a blanket and knelt down beside her, draping it over her shoulders.

"Do you want to stay here or go back to your chambers?" he asked.

She could probably fall asleep right there on the floor, but Emma thought longingly of her own bed, a huge four poster affair with a mattress that was the most comfortable thing she had ever slept on. Then she remembered the smaller bed in Hook's room, and the feeling of being held in his arms as she drifted off.

"My room," she said, not meeting his eyes.

Hook helped her to her feet and kept a steadying arm around her as they made their way through the dark and deserted hallways. They walked in silence, Emma felt like one giant, exposed nerve and she could feel it, tugging at the back of her mind, the urge to withdraw, to retreat, to pretend that the things she'd said had been nothing more than potion-induced ramblings. To harden her heart against him, and the words he'd offered up to her, his declaration that he wanted everything, all she had to give and more, and presenting himself to her in return. She could have it, she could have him, and she was terrified.

At her door she turned and leaned against the frame, the blanket slipping off her shoulders, while he looked at her uncertainly.

"Should I find Regina?" he asked.

Emma shook her head, "No. I'll talk to her in the morning, but I'm pretty sure it's over. The potion's worn off."

Even in the dark his eyes were so blue and she could lose herself in them so easily, "All right."

She didn't know what to say. She should thank him, but she'd done nothing but thank him all week and every time it had felt inadequate. She shuddered with disgust to think about what could have happened if it had been Francis who activated the potion without anyone finding out. He would have taken advantage and then some, and the thought made her sick.

Hook turned to leave and Emma caught his wrist. She wanted to say so much to him but the words were stuck in her throat. After everything that had happened, they couldn't go back to the holding pattern they'd been stuck in, but as she'd told him, she wanted to let him in but she didn't know how.

"I'm keeping the shirt," she blurted out, hoping he would understand.

"Oh?" he turned back to her.

"Yup. You're not getting it back, it's mine now."

He smiled, "As you wish. It does become you much better than me."

Hook lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, not a courtly brush against her knuckles, but an open mouthed press against the inside of her wrist. She felt the briefest touch of his tongue on her skin, and then he withdrew, his arms going behind his back. He bent slightly at the waist, actually bowing to her, and then he was gone.

"Jesus," Emma muttered, closing the door. She made her way through the sitting room, letting the blanket fall to the floor along the way, and into the bedroom that was bigger than any apartment she'd ever lived in. "Fit for a Princess," her mother had said, and she'd meant it literally, which had wigged Emma out to no end.

Tonight she was too tired to think about it. She climbed into the large bed, still wearing Hook's shirt. It had been wrapped around her when she'd fallen asleep in his bed and she had worn it every night since. It had helped calm her down, and was the only thing that had kept her in her bed instead of sneaking back into his in the middle of the night. She supposed she didn't need it for that anymore.

"So why are you still wearing it?" that little voice in the back of her head asked.

Emma told the voice to shut up, and closed her eyes.

...

...

...

"Knocking boots?!" Emma yelled.

"Well, did you?"

Regina pushed past Emma into the room, tossing her a package wrapped in a tea towel. Emma opened it and found a pastry. She was starving and she sunk her teeth into it, it was still warm, a savoury concoction of meat and spices inside the dough.

Emma sat down, swallowing her bite, and glared at Regina, "No."

"And yet he obviously broke the spell. Are you sure about that?" Regina said, sliding into the chair opposite Emma.

Emma intensified her glare, taking another bite. She hadn't gone down to breakfast, despite her hunger, but it wasn't because she was hiding in her room like a nervous teenager, not at all, "Yes, I'm sure. I think I would know, Regina, I had a fever, I wasn't drunk."

Regina tilted her head, "Then how?"

"Why do you want to know?" Emma asked, feeling uncomfortable.

"Professional curiosity."

Emma dropped the towel on the table and sighed. She had a sense of déjà vu, they had sat at this table the night she had drunk the potion, when Regina had come to her room to give her more information about it, "You probably don't want your mother to hear this part." And boy, she hadn't.

"We talked," Emma admitted, and at Regina's skeptical look added, "About us."

She twisted her hands in her lap, feeling the rough denim of her jeans. She'd washed and changed when she woke up, putting on her own clothes and folding Hook's shirt up carefully, stowing it away under her pillow.

"He told me how he felt about me...and I told him how I felt about him."

"Interesting," Regina tapped a finger against her lips, Emma could practically see the wheels turning in her head, "Usually when you give someone a love potion, they don't have feelings for you, that's kind of the point. It makes the drinker think they have feelings, but it's all surface infatuation. It can play havoc with your sex drive, and from what I heard it obviously did, but it can't really go deeper, because there would be nothing there. Unless you already have more."

Emma looked away from Regina's interested look, she really didn't want to be having this conversation with her. But the other woman wasn't deterred.

"You don't strike me as the gooey sentimental display of emotion type though, unlike certain parents of yours who shall remain nameless."

Emma stood up and moved a few steps away, turning her back to Regina, "It wasn't like that," she said. It hadn't been sentimental, it had been honest and raw and more than a little painful, "Why did it work?"

She turned around and faced Regina, who was looking at her with her best, "bitch please" face, which Emma had to admit was impressive.

Regina spoke with conviction, "Because it was real. The heart of magic has always been real, genuine emotion. The kind you can't fake, that no potion can truly replicate. Hate, anger, love, emotions are power."

Emma remembered the feeling, the swelling in her chest when she admitted that Hook affected her. He'd wormed his way in somehow, along with Henry and her parents, a cartoon villain turned into a real complicated man who made her feel things she had almost forgotten.

"It's over, right?" Emma asked, "I feel like it's worn off."

Regina produced a white crystal and held it out in her palm, "Well, let's see. Breathe on this. If you still have potion in your system it will change colour."

Emma leaned over Regina's hand and pursed her lips, blowing on the crystal like the candles on a birthday cake. The crystal glowed, but it stayed white.

"Looks like you're clear," Regina said.

Emma collapsed back into the chair, feeling relieved at the confirmation, "Thank you, for all your help, Regina, thank you."

Regina spread her hands open, "Well, what are friends for?"

Emma raised her eyebrows, "So, we're friends?"

"Stranger things have happened."

The woman had a point, Emma thought, as she sat in a princess's bedroom in an honest-to-God castle, where her parents, Prince Charming and Snow White lived.

"Like you and Hook," Regina continued, "Didn't see that one coming."

Neither did Emma.

"Do you know where he is?" Emma asked. As much as she wanted to keep hiding in her room, she was done pretending.

"Who am I, his secretary? No."

"Fine," Emma waved her hand, "I'm sure I can find him."

"In the mood for some boot-knocking, huh?" Regina inquired, "Well, I may not know where Hook is precisely, but I might have seen him heading down towards the lake."

Emma rolled her eyes at the boot-knocking comment, "You know I had to explain to him what that meant. You really are evil."

"I bring you food, I point you towards Captain Loverboy, and this is the thanks I get. You're welcome," the maybe-not-evil-but-certainly-sarcastic Queen said with a wink.

...

...

...

Emma walked the path to the lake, leaves and twigs crunching under her boots. She remembered how often she'd gone to the docks in Storybrooke to find him when they'd been fighting the Wicked Witch. There was water in his veins, but he hadn't even mentioned anything about sailing off, either in her world or here, and she knew the reason why.

"I want to teach you to sail and set off around the world with you."

He wouldn't go unless she went with him.

She went around the final bend in the path and the lake came into view, the light shining off the water and silhouetting the figure standing at the edge. It swung around at the sound of her footsteps and Emma came out from under the trees and into the light.

"Swan."

His voice was neutral but his face was anything but, scared and hesitant and everything that he shouldn't be, and she was going to change that.

Emma stopped a few feet away from him, "It's over. Regina confirmed it, no more potion."

"All right," he said again, as he had the night before.

She took a few steps forward, seeing him swallow hard at her approach. Her hand reached out, touching the bare skin where his shirt opened just above his heart. He was standing stock-still, hardly even breathing.

"Killian?"

"Yes?"

Emma looked right into his eyes, the blue of the sea, of sapphires and forget-me-nots, and she had forgotten, for a whole year she hadn't remembered his eyes, but she knew now she would never forget them again.

"Show me everything."

...

...

Author: Don't worry, I'm not done! There will be smut in the next chapter, I promise. Took me a heck of a lot longer to get to it than I thought it would, but then I didn't expect this fic to go in the direction it did. Somehow I wound up with a lot of humorous angst, if that is a thing.

Everyone who has reviewed, thank you, it means so much! And all my followers and the people who have favourited, as well.