This is an idea I've had for ages but only now just got around to actually writing. It's mostly canon-compliant, some canon divergent scenes and dialogue, crossed with a hint of Stardust. I really hope you enjoy it.
Above all else, Killian Jones was first and foremost a sailor. He was born with seawater in his veins and legs better suited for the deck of a ship than solid ground. As such, it was ingrained within his very being to follow the stars, and so far they had yet to see him wrong.
Navigating by starlight, Killian had found his way out of the most unholy tempests, away from the haunted shores of Neverland, outrun disgruntled rivals and petulant nobles alike as he robbed them blind with a charming wink and sleight of hand. Foes had been left behind as mere specks in the Roger's wake, while adventure had beckoned, mapped upon the night skies and horizons ahead.
Having a sailor's affinity for the night sky, it seemed almost predestined that he should fall for a woman with a constellation's name.
Killian's first thought upon seeing Emma Swan was one of starlight.
As the disgusting shroud of bodies had been shifted away the dim light revealed a tangle of blonde hair framing a face of moon pale skin, giving the woman the appearance that she was issuing a faint glow.
Her beauty reminded him of a tale that he had once heard in the dark corners of a tavern in a distant realm. The man claimed to be a lightning catcher, a pirate of the sky were his exact words, who weaved together a story of a fallen star that had crashed to earth as a beautiful woman.
Looking at Emma Swan, fierce, blonde and displaced from her true home, it took Killian a moment or two to wonder if perhaps the man hadn't actually been telling the truth, and in a way he had, because the Captain would come to find that she shone brighter than any star he had ever known.
If there was one thing Emma Swan prided herself on, it was the fact that she possessed the ultimate poker face.
She was an expert in keeping all of her emotions hidden beneath the surface, trapped behind a cool, unshakable mask that had fooled, flattered, and intimidated so many people before.
This level of emotional control had led to one particularly interesting phenomenon: Emma Swan never blushed.
Her cheeks never took on that delicate shade of pink that came from anger, embarrassment, flirting, or being flirted with. This last fact had meant literal years of liberally applying rouge in her days of honey-trapping gormless marks; men seemed to find her less threatening the more she appeared to be blushing.
Until her move to Storybrooke, Maine, Emma had always felt that her feelings were expertly locked down, with more security than Fort Knox; however, after a few lessons about magic and its close connection to emotion, it turned out that her long-suppressed skills had other ideas about self-expression, especially when it came to a certain pirate.
It started with the beanstalk.
In the future, when Killian thoughts would drift back to dwell on his past, he would wonder at how often things seemed to come back to that magnificent behemoth of a plant...how he loved it so.
Back then he thought it must be some trick of the light, they were after all above the clouds and closer to the sun; but as he looked up through his lashes to meet Emma Swan's eyes while his teeth careful tugged the makeshift bandage into place, he could have sworn there was a faint glow issuing from beneath her skin. Blinking quickly, the moment seemed to pass with him calling her a 'tough lass' and Swan giving her one of those signature half-glares.
Emma was very distracted by his mouth, more than she would ever care to admit, but not too distracted to notice how her fingertips seemed to be pulsing with a faint light. The glow seemed to ebb and flow with her rapidly increasing heartbeat, but vanished just as soon as the pirate had let her go.
With a giant to knock out, a compass to steal, and a son to get back home to, Emma forgot about the light, passing it off as some kind of Fairytale Land illusion; that is until the very same power pulsed out of her in a massive wave, sending Regina's witch mother flying to the ground.
It wasn't until a few magic lessons later that Emma started to worry. Figuring out that all magic users apparently had a colour which reflected their power (her's being that now familiar soft white) and that it stemmed from her Saviour emotions of joy, kindness and, above all else, love. As is capital L Love.
She had wanted to scoff when Gold had told her that her magic and emotions were so immensely powerful and intrinsically linked, that the likelihood was that she wouldn't always be able to contain them. In instances where she was feeling a particularly strong emotion, the magic would likely start to seep out without her realising. He had claimed not to know what form it would take, and sent her on her way, contemplating the fact that she was apparently some kind of ticking time bomb of good vibes.
It was alarming to think that at any moment, she might feel a certain way and some unknown quantity of magic would just go shooting out of her. Hopefully it wouldn't be noticeable, like a soft breeze, or chirping birds, or something equally Disney Princess in nature.
But then she had thought back to that one moment on the beanstalk, the weird supposed illusion, and her glow-stick fingers, and...Hook.
It shouldn't have been a problem, she thought bitterly. If only Captain Hook had turned out to be anything other than the literal worst villain in the world, who not only stuck around and tried to flirt with her at inopportune moments, but only went and came back, offering his services to her and her family, to rescue Henry from Neverland.
It really kicked off in Neverland.
Killian had always prided himself on being quite a perceptive fellow, with the ability to read people well enough. When you were the most dashing rogue on the high seas, it was important to be able to judge your enemies and allies alike, looking for chinks in the emotional armour to worm your way in and out of situations with charm and decorum.
Killian was positive that there was no more interesting person to read than Emma Swan.
Walls of iron and concrete around her heart, the woman so rarely gave anything away, her face a blank mask of seemingly no other emotion than annoyance; but maybe that was reserved just for him. Her parents occasionally got a rare smile, and successes on their mission would bring a tiny spark of victory into her eyes, but most curious of all was the glow.
He had begun to notice it more and more as their days in the nightmarish jungles of Pan's monster island continued on. He would hold out his hand to help her step over a fallen log, and as their fingers wrapped around each other, a faint aura seemed to appear on her cheeks. It happened again as they sat, shoulders brushing, beside the campfire, a coconut and a small smile shared between the two, accompanied by a trace of luminescence.
More and more Killian would catch her eye, and marvel as the light under her skin seemed to flicker to life.
He had his suspicions about the glow, fuelled by eavesdropping on Regina's magic lessons and all this talk of emotion, but perhaps that was only his own longing talking. Surely, Emma Swan, the embodiment of all things good and light, was not moved to some kind of magical blush by a one handed pirate with a drinking problem.
Killian had tried to keep these thoughts in mind, determined to ignore whatever kind of magical effect he may or may not have on the woman with whom he found himself falling more and more in love. It was wishful thinking to believe that she was in any way moved by his presence.
That is until the kiss.
Emma's hands had fisted into the lapels of his jacket, hauling him willingly against her body, and the world had lit up.
Even with his eyes shut, Killian could feel the warmth of the light as it permeated through the dark jungle, as if the sun had suddenly fallen to earth and taken root in Neverland.
They had parted, foreheads touching, hands still grasping, and Killian had gazed in wonder at the vision before him. Emma was burning like the North Star, the aura of light spread all around her and casting his body in the same soft glow.
"That was…" he whispered, already leaning in to kiss her again; but, in that same instant, the light dimmed, and Emma rebuked him with a mutter about a 'one time thing' before she fled back towards the camp.
As she walked away, he had whispered his promise, "As you wish," hope surging in his chest as the light, briefly, momentarily, once again flickered to life around her, dimming quickly as she passed beyond his sight.
Emma wished for nothing more than to ignore what had happened in the clearing with Hook, eternally grateful that her parents and Regina had been distracted by things in the camp, failing to notice the supernova that had appeared just a few meters behind them.
Ignoring Killian Jones was no easy feat however. It was impossible to put any kind of distance between them, with the whole group having to live and work in such close quarters, the feeling of his eyes on her certainly didn't help, nor did the fact that her magic seemed to love the attention and was determined to make itself known in his presence.
Her life's work on the ultimate poker face facade brought down in one moment, by a swaggering, leather-clad, eye liner wearing pirate. Emma was furious, and determined more so than ever to keep her emotions in check. No-one could be allowed to know just how much Killian affected her.
Until the Echo Caves.
The stupid, noble, terrible excuse for a villain had only gone and defied Pan, once again putting her needs first so that she might have a chance at happiness, with Neal stuck in a box in the middle of the cavern.
If that wasn't enough, he then went on to make some beautiful speech about how their kiss had revealed to him that he might finally be able to move on from his revenge, that he hadn't thought it was possible to get over Milah, "until I met you."
The ground shook beneath their feet as the first part of the bridge came into place, but Emma didn't take her eyes off of Killian, or the hesitant uptick in his mouth that told her he could see the warm light that had flooded her cheeks, dimming in the instant her mother started to speak.
Storybrooke had celebrated the return of its heroes with welcome arms, and the Charmings had gladly taken to the celebrations, sweeping Regina into their midst as well, but Killian had chosen to remain on the outskirts of the town's joy.
Sitting alone at the bar of Granny's, Killian turned away from the booth being occupied by Emma and her family.
She finally seemed happy. After all the heartbreak in Neverland, all the fear and uncertainty that she had suffered through, Killian was pleased to see her so at peace. Unwittingly, his mind wandered back to the last real moment they had shared together, hacking through the trees with Neal ahead of them in search of Dark Hollow.
It was here that he had promised to win her heart, promised her fun, and watched the glow flicker in her fingertips.
"Not to be ungentlemanly or anything, but it's quite gratifying, Swan," he had teased, with a soft smile and a nod to her hands, as she stared at him in confusion, "I appear to have quite the effect on you."
Emma scoffed, shoving her traitorous hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
"My magic is emotion," she said challengingly, "Perhaps it's just reacting to your own powers of incredible annoyance."
Killian tilted his head appraisingly, slowly reaching his hand out to move a stray piece of hair out of her face, fingers lingering on the soft skin behind her ear.
He was about to make a comment about the light now spread to her cheeks, but Neal had returned and he was forced to step away, unwilling to create more trouble for her now.
He wondered now if Neal would be the one to draw the glow from her, if his touch would spark the same magical reaction that Killian's had; but it didn't do well to dwell on such thoughts. He had already promised to back off, to give Emma and her boy the chance at a proper family, no matter how it broke his heart to do so.
There was a tension now between him and Emma, stronger than it had been before, the weight of his broken promise for fun between them, all tangled up in Neal's botched attempts at a courtship. She didn't glow for him now, merely stared at him with a thousand questions in her eyes, that he could no longer answer.
Turning to Tink had been an empty, foolish attempt to bring some levity to the situation, but he had hoped to perhaps spark some kind of reaction from Swan, even if jealousy or irritation was the best he could get.
With the revelation of Pan's body swap, Killian had pushed everything else aside, determined to help as best he could, only for them all to fail, the crackling storm clouds of the Dark Curse now broiling on the horizon, with Emma and her boy dragged away from them all in the process.
With the understanding that he would likely never see her again pressing down upon him, Killian said to hell with his promise of backing off. If Emma was going to forget him, then he would be damned if the last thing she knew from him was this unresolved distance.
Reaching out, he had sworn a new oath, one he would not break:
"Not a day will go by that I don't think of you."
And as the light beneath her skin swelled, this time beside her heart, with her final word to him ("good") Killian knew that he had been a fool to ever try and stay away from her.
The logical part of Emma's brain knew it was ridiculous to be bailing out the crazy guy who had shown up at her apartment and kissed her, spouting some nonsense about her parents and curses. The illogical part of Emma's brain was inexplicably drawn to him, and determined to have the truth about the camera and the photos on it.
So here she was, standing outside the precinct, watching as the dominatrix fantasy in leather strolled down the steps towards her, complaining about the quality of the food.
Reasonable Emma was strongly against drinking the weird bottle of whatever that the stranger was offering her, but unreasonable Emma, who desperately wished for a family, chugged the thing straight down, and the memories came flooding back.
"Hook," she whispered, so much weight in that one word.
His, "Did you miss me," was cut off with a small grunt, as she took two steps forward and grabbed him in a hug.
For a moment, she had felt as his fingers hovered uncertainly, not sure what to make of this decidedly un-Emma action, before they settled, one on her back, one in her hair, holding on just as tight.
She breathed him in, the same old scent of rum and the sea, smiling softly at the tingle in her fingertips, the soft glow flickering beneath the surface, her magic defying the laws of New York just for him.
The Wicked Witch of the freakin' West...as if her life wasn't already crazy enough.
Regina's long lost sister was turning out to be a real pain in Emma's ass.
With the town's memories lost and hers newly recovered, Henry still being in the dark, the very large swell of Mary-Margaret's pregnant stomach, Neal being completely AWOL, Robin Hood apparently also being real, because why the hell not, flying monkey attacks, and a pirate that wouldn't stop staring at her; Emma honestly felt she might be losing her mind.
To top it all off, they'd had some kind of seance to speak with the deceased megalomaniac that had been Cora and she's been made to hold Hook's hook.
It was the most amount of contact that they'd had since the hug in New York and once again, Emma felt that same rush of warmth in her cheeks that meant her traitorous magic had taken charge again.
Glancing around, she was grateful to see that her parents and Killian seemed far more focussed on the candle in the center of the table, and that she'd somehow managed to avoid detection yet again. However, that hope was short-lived with one swift look at Regina, who was staring at her with a thousand questions in her eyes.
Which had led her to here. The most awkward conversation she'd ever been a part of.
"So…" said Regina, dragging one of Granny's bar stools closer to Emma, who cringed into her hot chocolate, "I've witnessed magic do a lot of strange things, but I think seeing you light up like a beacon of repressed sexual tension might just take the cake."
Emma choked.
"There is no sexual tension," she hissed at the now smirking Queen, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening in, "repressed or otherwise."
"Oh please," Regina said, tossing her hair back, "It's unbearably obvious, although I do have to admit I thought it was one-sided. How long has Captain Guyliner been...turning you on, so to speak."
If looks could kill, Regina would be dead many times over, though she didn't seem to care; her glee at the Saviour's discomfort exceedingly obvious in her ever-growing smirk.
"Okay then," she relented, "we don't have to get into the specifics of it, but I can assume you'd rather not turn into a human flashlight whenever things may occur, particularly with your parents and our son around. I can help you, if that's what you want?"
Helpful Regina was not something that Emma was used to, but she had accepted gratefully and spent the evening in the Queen's vault brewing up some kind of magical beta-blocker potion, that would apparently keep her instinctive reactions at bay without affecting her overall source of power.
With a couple (more like a dozen) vials stashed away in her pockets, Emma set back to witch-hunting, no longer afraid of accidentally revealing herself.
It was easier to control the glow with the help of the potion, although thing's in that department took a swift nose-dive anyway, with the revelation of Killian's curse, and the dramatic return of Henry's memory.
Emma could pinpoint the moments in her life when she had been precisely this angry; it was limited to four events; the original Neal incident (obviously) when Regina had poisoned Henry, Neal reappearing merged with his father and dying in the same day, and when some jackass had stolen all the wheels off her bug. New to the list was the anger and betrayal she felt learning of Killian's deceit. While Regina's magic prevented her from glowing, she suspected that it also dampened whatever might have happened when she realised what he had done; perhaps flame fists, or lasers shooting out of her eyes.
All in all, Emma wasn't in a particularly glowing mood, that is until her baby brother was born, and she found herself trekking through the woods with Hook walking morosely behind her. Why he had to bring up Walsh again was beyond her, but with him she couldn't help but answer honestly.
"You're glad I had my heart broken?"
"If it can be broken, it means it still works."
And there it was again.
Somehow through the magic mist of the potion, Emma felt the warmth raise through her veins and up to her cheeks, her own magic pushing back and giving herself away.
Killian appeared breathless, his hand reaching out into the small space between them, fingers ghosting over her cheek without making contact.
"I had thought I would never see this again," he whispered in awe, their faces so close together, that the words seemed to caress her skin, settling deep in her bones and adding more fuel to the fire.
"So beautiful," he murmured, so quietly, Emma wasn't sure if he'd meant to say it out loud.
The temptation to lean into him, to close those last few centimeters and relive their moment in Neverland, was so incredibly strong, it was like an actual wild-fire had erupted underneath her skin. For a moment, Emma felt herself sway infinitesimally closer, but-No!
At the last second she wrenched herself back, putting some much needed space between their bodies. She wasn't supposed to be thinking about him like that, he had broken her trust, and she knew deep down that he would be the one to fight the hardest when it came to stopping her leaving Storybrooke.
"Swan, I-"
"Don't kid yourself, Hook," she said, turning her back so she wouldn't have to watch as she knowingly and deliberately broke his heart, "I'm just exhausted from this colossal mess you brought me into. My magic has been acting up all week and I'll be glad to be done with it when I get back to New York."
Emma didn't stop, she didn't turn to look back.
She'd never thought of herself as a cruel person, but it was the only way that either of them would be able to move on. It was for the best, she told herself, already fortifying the walls around her heart once more, he could forget about her and go back to his life. She didn't need him.
It was the lie that she managed to keep telling herself before it all came to a head twenty minutes later. He was drowning before her very eyes, dying in his own element, every sailor's fear. In the end there wasn't a choice or, as she would come to realise, her choice would always be the same.
She picked Killian.
He had never known guilt like this.
Killian Jones, the feared Captain Hook who had pillaged, plundered, sacked, and raided all without remorse, found himself unable to join in with the victory celebrations, knowing that, at the end of it all, Emma would be able to leave thanks to the out he had given her.
Behind the barn where the Witch had been defeated, he had grabbed her hand, willing her to stop just for a moment, before following the rest back to the Prince's truck.
"I never thanked you for saving my life, Swan," he said, not letting go of her just yet, his gaze dropping down to their joined hands, "I always knew you'd save your family, I'm just grateful you also saved me."
The statement was loaded in more ways than one, and he knew that she knew how very much more he meant with those words.
Emma was perfectly still, aside from the slight heaving in her chest, and Killian frantically scanned her for any hint of her hidden power. With Zelena defeated, and her necklace destroyed, all her curses should have been broken, leaving Emma's magic free to return. But there was no hint of a glow, not even a tiny spark for him to clutch to.
Emma let go of him with a slightly uncomfortable, "you're welcome," and somehow, it was worse than when his attempt at True Love's Kiss had failed.
What he didn't know was that, while she hadn't lit up like normal, Emma felt a tug in her gut and a spark in her fingers.
In all honesty, their trip to the past wasn't going that badly, Emma thought to herself.
Okay, yes, they had accidentally messed up her parents first meeting, and maybe the consequences of that action would mean she wouldn't be born but hey, their plan to fix it all was going really well...or at least she thought it was, until she realised she would have to flirt with the past version of Captain Hook.
It was a version of him that she recognised but only just, having become so used to seeing him as Killian Jones rather than Captain Hook. The man wetting his lips as he blatantly stared at her and the proffered cleavage on display, was most definitely all pirate, and Emma didn't hate that.
Running her fingers over his hook, and up his leather-clad thigh, she felt bold and brazen, a part of her all to aware that the likelihood of them kissing was very high.
She'd half expected him to be all over her, but surprisingly, much like the gentleman he claimed to be, his eyes didn't often stray from her own, the lingering contact between them creating that same undeniable tension as always. More often than not, she avoided prolonged eye contact with Killian for this exact reason, but tonight there was no avoiding it.
Flirting with past Hook but knowing that he was also Killian beneath all the leather and swagger was messing with Emma's head. He had abandoned his crew and far easier company to giver her his full attention without getting crude and handsy, was listening to her made-up ramblings intently and with clear interest, and while his smile occasionally became more lascivious whenever she stroked her fingers over his form, for the most part it was the softer more relaxed version that she was familiar with.
Despite all this, it was clear that this version was not the same as the man she knew. Beneath the bravado she could see his brokenness, knew that she was just another passing fancy, an attempt to settle an itch that was essentially impossible to scratch. A nameless bar wench wouldn't make him forget Milah. This version of Killian was not yet ready to love her.
Still, and in spite of herself, when Emma took hold of his hook to follow him back to the Jolly Roger, it was accompanied by the same pull in her gut, like someone trying to light matches beneath her skin, but never quite managing to ignite.
The feeling was still there, but he wasn't her Killian...not yet.
Killian was certain that in all his years of living, of which there was an excess, he had never seen a sight as beautiful as Emma Swan in a ball gown. The red satin that hugged her curves, flaring at the hips, and making her into the princess that she always had been, was enough to take his breath away.
He could sense her nerves as they wandered through the party, after all, they were on a mission, but there was also he thought, a sense of anticipation radiating off of her. It was this that inspired him to be bold, taking a firmer hold on her hand and leading her onto the dancefloor.
"Wait. Are you saying you know how to do whatever this is?"
"It's called a waltz, and there's only one rule: pick a partner who knows what they're doing."
And so they began to dance.
Killian held her close, slightly closer perhaps than was socially acceptable, moving her with ease and confidence around the floor; and just like that, they became just another man and woman tentatively sharing their first dance.
It was so easy to get lost in the music, in the glamour, and the spirit of celebration, twirling endlessly amongst the other couples, forgetting all of the fears and worries they still had to face.
At one point, against the customary steps, Killian swung Emma out and back into his arms with just as much fair, her laughter echoing across the room and drawing more than a few questioning looks that quickly turned soft as they saw the supposed prince and princess moving together.
It was as she landed back against his chest, still with her eyes closed, trying to stifle her laughter, that Killian saw it.
Beneath the pink colouring her cheeks from the heat of the ballroom, the tiny glow of her magic was just about peaking through. As it had before, the light gave her an ethereal appearance, like one of the fair folk, or a fallen star, shimmering around her in a subtle aura that never failed to draw him into its warmth.
Their eyes met, Killian's mouth opening, to say what he didn't quite know-but the moment was lost as the doors suddenly burst open, and Regina came striding in.
Emma had been imprisoned twice now, in less than a day.
Regina's dungeons hadn't been quite as bad as she pictured, but then no one really stayed long in there when the Evil Queen was so quick to get rid of her enemies.
Nonetheless, freeing herself, and finding out that Hook had not only found her parents, but convinced them to come and save her, racing round the tunnel to attempt his dashing rescue, had sent a hot wave of magic through her system; one quickly forgotten in the midst of her mother's supposed demise.
Rumpelstiltskin's room of magical oddities however, was less than pleasant.
Stuck in here, she was essentially just another magical trophy of hitherto unknown power, with Killian as some kind of sick bonus, the two of them trapped with no means of escape.
Convinced that she was going to be adding this to her list of times when she'd been beyond angry, Emma was prepared to call it quits; there was quite literally nothing that they could do.
"Maybe one of these things can magically produce food," Emma said, running one hand over a weird-looking cabinet, the other still clutching the fairy's wand, "I don't really want to have the cannibal talk based on who dies first." She looked over at Killian, expecting him to be smiling at her awful joke, instead he was scowling at her.
"I'm kidding," she said, hands raised in surrender, walking over to stand in front of him, "Seriously, just trying to ease the tension. We can't get out of here so might as well-"
"You know perfectly well how to get us out of here, love," he said accusingly, "pretending otherwise isn't going to make it go away."
Emma took a step back. He was never this blunt with her, never this harsh; and besides, she had no idea what he was talking about.
"Listen, Hook," she hissed, her defenses going up in an instant, " I don't know what you think you know, but the literal Dark One called this vault inescapable so..."
She left the statement open-ended, expecting him to back down, but if anything he glared at her even harder, arms folded across his chest in defiance.
"So you're going to stand here and pretend that your magic hasn't returned, because that's a lie Emma, and we both know it."
"That's not tr-" she started to say, but was instantly cut off.
"Don't try and lie to me Emma," Killian shouted, "I've seen it, so I know you must have felt it, but I know what's going on."
"What?" Emma spat back, her own voice rising to match his flaring temper, "Tell me, Hook, what exactly is going on."
"Without your magic back, it's easy for you to run away from Storybrooke, to hop in your tiny yellow vessel and flee back to New York. Not having your magic makes running away from a real chance at happiness, at the possibility of a home with people who love you, all the simpler. Tell me I'm wrong, Swan."
Emma's mouth opened and closed, she wanted to tell him that it was a lie, that her magic really had vanished with Zelena's curse, but it was no use. He'd always been able to read her like an open book. So instead she whispered…
"I'm scared, Killian."
That was more than enough to make him pause, for all the anger to leave him, and his arms to unfold, reaching out to take hold of her chin, tilting it up until their eyes met.
"I'm scared to have a family. I'm scared to settle down in Storybrooke and realise it was the home I've been missing out on my entire life. I'm scared to be a mother, and a daughter, and a big sister, and a fairytale sheriff. I'm scared of you," she admitted, gaze dropping away again, unable to look at his eyes full of unending support, understanding, and love...oh so much love.
"Emma Swan," he breathed, fingertips stroking along her cheek, "Don't you think that your family aren't equally terrified, that we all aren't afraid of the unknown, about the possibility of having a life and actually living it? You have a place that you can really call home now, and that is a wonderful thing and, if you'll have me, I'll be there every step of the way, to remind you just how much you deserve it. You never have to be afraid of me. Emma. I took a vow a long time ago that I was in this for the long haul, and I have no intention of breaking it, or your heart. You just have to believe, love."
His hands ignited a trail of magic, burning like wildfire from her cheeks, down her arms, settling into her fingertips, the glow of her skin passing into the wand, and finally opening the portal back to their home.
She didn't stop glowing as she burst back into Granny's, didn't care about how the townspeople stared as she hugged her parents and was finally introduced to her baby brother, or how the glow only seemed to increase at Henry's discovery of her starring role in the story book.
Regina had simply tipped her glass to her, as Emma strode purposefully back outside, feeling the cool night air on her skin as she took up her place beside Killian.
There was talk of stories, and bar wenches, of magic beans, and sacrifices beyond anything that Emma had ever experienced, but it all led to the same place.
As she kissed him, Emma felt her power surge, the glow bursting forth with even more strength than it had shown in Neverland; lighting the pair up like some kind of nuclear explosion. It was so much so, that they missed the small yells of the startled partygoers, as the light bulbs all around them burst and shattered, plunging Granny's into darkness.
While that hadn't stopped them, David rushing outside and proceeding the splutter indignantly at the sight of his daughter and her pirate wrapped up together in an intimate tangle of hands and magical light was more than enough disruption.
"It seems you've blown the power, Swan," Killian teased, brushing a lock of hair back from her face, "Not that it matters, because I appear to have found my own personal source of starlight."
Emma shoved him, but it didn't stop his laughter as his words sent another wave of power surging out, taking out the fairy lights above them as well as Granny's precious neon sign.
"I would say that I'm not enjoying this," he continued on, slightly breathless from his own laughter, completely oblivious to David's continued glaring, "but it would be a complete lie."
Emma was trying to scowl, but her lips were twitching. The whole situation was completely absurd.
"You better have the gold to deal with this, pirate," she muttered, tugging meaningfully at the lapels of his jacket to draw him back into her, "because there's no way I'm footing the bill when Granny charges us for property damage."
Killian laughed again, his smile turning soft, as he tipped his forehead against hers.
"For you, Swan, anything."
Really, there was nothing else Emma could do except haul him back against her lips, kissing him even more deeply than before, the light coming from her body almost blinding, the pair only surfacing when Regina also came out to yell at them.
They'd blown all the lights in Storybrooke.