Killian wakes slowly, feeling disoriented. Soft noises are drifting up from downstairs, something is clattering in the kitchen. It's probable what drew him out of his slumber. He was always a light sleeper for as long as he can remember.
He blinks and suddenly he's aware of a warm body pressed against his back and he's fully awake in an instant.
There's an arm draped over him as well and he turns his head slightly to look down at it in disbelief.
Emma Swan, Emma fucking Swan, master of At Arm's Length and The Cold Shoulder, is snuggled up to him head to toe, fast asleep. He can feel her breath in small puffs against his neck. He can feel the warmth seeping into his skin everywhere they touch and it's delicious.
He dares not move, dares not breathe lest he wake her up. He closes his eyes again and imagines how it would feel if this were real, if he woke up in the morning with Emma cuddling up to him, if she held him close because she wanted to, because she wanted this as much as he does.
He's pretty sure he can feel an actual physical ache in his chest and God what was he even thinking when he agreed to this?
He dreads what's going to happen next. She's going to wake up and realize what she's doing and she's going to run, fast and far away. Well, as far away as their current predicament allows, but still. And maybe that would be for the best, even. End this torture right now.
Or he could try to sneak away before she wakes up. Which would mean untangling himself from her embrace and he's not sure he's up to that challenge quite yet. In spite of everything, it feels nice. He tries not to read too much into the fact that at least in sleep her walls were down enough to let this happen, even though she was sharing a bed with him. Tries and fails.
He tries to remember the last time he woke up like this and he fails at that task as well. There had been women, of course there had been women, but he can't remember waking up like this, not since Milah.
He takes a deep breath and calms himself. This is ridiculous. You're behaving like a bloody youth with a crush. Get it together, Hook. You're a bloody pirate. You may not have a ship right at this moment, but you're still a pirate, you're definitely not some love-struck puppy begging for every scrape of attention from ... his train of thought derails and burns as Emma's hand starts to draw slow circles over his stomach.
His breathing stops completely and he listens very carefully. Emma's breathing is even and there is no sign that she is awake. He realizes that he probably should have worn a shirt. But no, he's only wearing these ridiculous so-called sweat pants Emma uncovered in one of the cupboards.
She shifts a little behind him and hums in his ear. Killian freezes and braces himself for what's going to happen next. He turns slightly towards her, because he needs to see, because he's not only the expert, but the bloody king of torturing yourself.
She opens her eyes halfway and murmurs "Mornin'", then her eyes widen in shock and she draws back so fast she nearly stumbles out of the bed on the other side. It's almost comical, in a different situation, a different life, but all he can feel is a gaping hole in his chest, with more and more of himself crumbling into the abyss.
She stares at him in disbelief and he would love to make some saucy remark to lighten the mood but his tongue is stuck in his mouth and he couldn't make a sound if his life depended on it.
They stare at each other, neither making a move. They are saved from further awkwardness by loud footsteps pounding up the stairs in a hurry. He can see Emma compose herself a second before the door bursts open and tries to do the same.
"Good morning! I made breakfast! Check it out!"
Henry takes in their state, sitting apart on the bed.
"What were you guys doing?" He grimaces. "Ugh, never mind, I don't wanna know. I'll knock next time." And with that he's back out the door, running down the stairs.
Emma gets up and follows Henry out without sparing him another look and that's quite fine with him. He gets up slowly, not in any hurry to come face to face with Emma again any time soon. Instead of walking downstairs, he opens the huge closet which is half-filled with strange garments from this realm that supposedly fit him. He crosses his arms and carefully considers his options.
Emma is so lost in thought that she misses most of what Henry says to her.
"... and pancakes!"
"Huh? Sorry, I was somewhere else."
Henry gives her that suspicious look again, the one she's quite familiar with by now. Emma takes in the breakfast table for the first time and is blown away by the effort Henry put into it. There's freshly pressed orange juice, cereal, pancakes, scrambled eggs, everything.
"Whoa. What's all this for?"
If possible, the look on Henry's face intensifies and Emma silently curses herself.
"Um, because I always make you breakfast on your wedding anniversary?" His brow furrows. "You forgot?"
Emma tries to collect her thoughts quickly. She's really not up for this conversation right after what just happened - no, she's not even thinking about that.
"Of course I didn't forget. I just wanted to say that you made a really big effort and I'm very grateful."
She steps up to him, ruffles up his hair and kisses his forehead. Henry seems mollified for the moment.
"What's taking dad so long? I'm hungry."
Emma shrugs her shoulders in reply. Actually, she's grateful that Hook is taking his time, she needs a moment away from him to order her thoughts. What in the world had she been doing? Had she honestly woken up this morning cuddling with Captain Hook? How did that even happen? She wasn't a cuddler to begin with. And she'd made sure to keep as much distance between them as possible when she'd gone to sleep.
"DAD!" Henry yells from the bottom of the stairs, bringing her back to the present with a jolt.
"In a moment! And don't yell!"
"You're yelling as well!" Henry points out, still yelling.
Emma cannot help but smile. It's so weird, this thing they stumbled into. She thought she had a normal life in New York. Looking back on it now, she wonders if there wasn't always something off about Walsh and she just chose to ignore it, because she wanted things to work out so badly, for her sake and for Henry's sake. Wanted him to have this, a nice house, a normal life, a family.
"Look at this feast", Hook says behind her and she thinks she can hear a note of pride in his voice. He sounds absolutely sincere and she wonders briefly how he managed to get into this act so quickly. She turns around and - Oh God. He's wearing a dark blue button-down shirt and black jeans with a small black belt. His hair is all messed up and he is simply stunning. He looks much younger without the eyeliner. He smirks at her and she realizes that her mouth is hanging slightly open, so she closes it with a snap. His smirk widens. Damn him.
Henry sits down and digs in, and after a second's hesitation they join him. The atmosphere is charged, there is clearly a tension between her and Hook. She wonders if Henry picks up on it as well.
"So, what are your plans for tonight?"
Hook looks like he is about to ask Henry for clarification, so Emma just blurts out the first thing on her mind.
"Nothing special, just going out for dinner."
Hook's eyebrows shoot up and she gives him a look. Just go with it.
"Hm", Henry comments, focussed on his pancakes, which are covered in an impressive amount of syrup. They actually turned out quite good.
Suddenly, a thought strikes Emma. "Shouldn't you be in school?"
Henry rolls his eyes. "Not for another 10 minutes. Plenty of time."
"I'll take you."
"Nah, I can take my bike. You enjoy your breakfast." He hastily finishes his pancake, then he runs up the stairs again.
"Your lad has unlimited amounts of energy", Hook says fondly.
Emma narrows her eyes. "No need to act when he's not around."
Hook looks at her, bewildered. "What do you mean, love?"
She doesn't get a chance to reply, because Henry comes pounding down the stairs again, backpack slung over one shoulder. Emma gives him a quick goodbye kiss.
"Thanks for this, kiddo. Have a great day at school."
He gives Hook a quick smile and then he's out the door. Emma smiles after him for a moment until she realizes that now she's alone with Hook.
"What was all that about?"
Emma's heart skips a beat until she realizes that he's talking about their breakfast conversation and not about what transpired earlier that morning. Not that there is anything to talk about.
"It appears that today is our wedding anniversary."
"Which one?"
"What?"
"How many years have we been married?"
Emma gives him a bewildered look.
"Who knows? What does it matter? We need to figure out this curse. Clearly it doesn't work like the last one."
Emma has another sudden realization.
"Oh God. I probably have a job." She looks at Hook in horror. "You probably have a job. What do we do?"
"I will hazard a guess and say that you might be the lawkeeper, love."
"What if I'm not? I can't just show up at the sheriff's station."
"Hm. Shouldn't you have an emblem? And a firearm? These things must be around here somewhere."
"Okay. Let's search the place. Maybe we can find a clue as to what you do as well."
They separate, Emma starting upstairs, Hook searching the living area and kitchen.
After a thorough search which turned up zilch in terms of what their professions could possibly be, Emma makes her way back down, still recovering from what she found in one of the bedside drawers. Apparently, their cursed married versions have quite the interesting sex life. She takes a deep breath and tries to shut out the pictures that come unbidden to her mind.
She finds Hook sitting in front of the big cupboard in the living room, photo albums strewn around him. She can sense that something is off, it's something in his posture, the way he's staring down at the album in his hand.
"Hook?"
He jolts visibly at her voice and quickly wipes with his sleeve at his eyes. Emma stops dead in her tracks. Was he crying?
She walks up to him and he tries to close the album he's holding, but she's quicker and grabs his wrist, stopping him. The page is filled with pictures of a new-born baby. There is one picture in particular that draws her attention. It's of Hook holding the tiny infant. The baby's eyes are wide open and he's looking directly at him. Hook is looking back awestruck, with pure joy and pride in his eyes. It's a breathtakingly beautiful picture.
Hook closes the book with a snap, withdrawing his wrist from her grasp.
"I found some small paintings showing you at the lawkeeper's office, so I will claim victory on that front."
His voice is almost even, but she can detect the slight tremor in his words.
"Photographs. Or just pictures."
He meets her eyes then and even though his walls are back up, she is blown away by the barely concealed whirlwind of emotions in his features.
She just looks at him, too stunned to speak for a moment. Then she pulls herself together and stands up quickly.
"Right. I better go then."
She grabs her purse and coat and she's definitely not fleeing out the door, she's just in a hurry because she's probably late.