Prompt: I have this sudden desire to see Emma falling asleep while thinking of Killian and accidentally magic-ing him into her bed. :)

The thing is, once Emma's magic starts working, it works. Period. The bridge was the catalyst - ever since then, all it really takes is a little concentration. She doesn't know what the hell she's doing most of the time, but if she closes her eyes and focuses really hard, then it just… works. It just happens.

Just like that.

Apparently, this is not the way learning magic is supposed to go (Regina seems a little irritated about this fact). It's supposed to take far more studying; intuition and natural talent haven't ever gotten anyone this far this fast. But Emma's doing it, she's making the bridge fly, she's looking through whole worlds with just a mirror, she's teleporting her hot chocolate, she's getting her magic under control and it's strong and she doesn't need to know how it happens. Just that it is, somehow, happening.

…And it feels great. She can admit that she's being a bit giddy, even after the bad news this afternoon, but her magic just feels good, it feels right. She feels strong and special and clever and maybe this is all just because she's the Savior but Emma feels good at something in a way she's never really felt before. It's been an issue all her life, maybe, because her only true skill is catching lies and that always fails her with the people who count the most. But Emma's felt even more useless since breaking the curse, in the weirdest way, because - everyone insists she's the Savior, but she never knows what's going on. She isn't prepared for magic and monsters and portals and curses. She's managed to scrape by on pure determination mostly, but now…

Now she's got magic. And she can't stop using it.

Little things, really, and only after she's sure that Henry's fast asleep. She unlocks the door to her room at Granny's without touching it. She zaps toothpaste from the tube straight onto her toothbrush. She puts on her pink plaid pajamas, looks down at them, and can't help herself.

"Make it blue!" she whispers - and they are. "Make it pink!" - and they're back again, and Emma knows she's giggling and it's very, very stupid, but she makes them blue and pink and blue and pink at least five more times anyway.

Finally, Emma crawls into bed. Just after she's settled down comfortably into the covers, she realizes that she's forgotten to bring a glass of water. She's just about to get up, when she stops. Bites her lip, and concentrates.

In the other room, she hears the cabinet open, then close. The tap turn on, then off. Her door eases open and in floats her drink, soaring gently across the room right into her hand with the latch clicking shut behind it. Emma takes a sip and grins so wide her cheeks hurt.

She kind of feels like Matilda.

And - okay, she knows not to get carried away with this stuff. Her magic is fun, and it makes her feel strong, but Emma knows better than to rely on it completely. If there's one thing she knows about magic, it's that it comes with a price. Still, it's her only weapon against Zelena right now, and she needs to practice, especially with Mary-Margaret's due date rapidly approaching. She needs to get comfortable using her magic, so that it will still come easily in the middle of a battle. She needs to become even stronger, so that when she needs this power, she can use it. And if that means indulging her childish side, well, then Hook will just have to deal.

Emma flicks off the lights and snuggles down into her covers with a tired yawn, thoughts getting caught on the pirate even as her eyes slip closed. Her mood dims slightly at the thought of him, because something is definitely going on. She's not sure what it is, but… one day, he's flirting with her on the docks, encouraging her to embrace her magic in fact - and then next thing she knows, he's skipping out on dinner with everyone, and sounding downright reluctant when Emma makes progress with her magic, and she's just… well, she's a little worried.

He's still here. He's still right here, still helping out - he reunited Ariel and Eric, he should be proud! And to hear Henry tell it, he and Hook get along like a house on fire, so nothing's changed there either. Given his encouragement Emma's pretty sure her newfound skills in magic aren't the problem. For once things seem to be going well on all fronts, or at least as much as possible; in figuring out her plan they've made what might be actual progress against Zelena, so Emma just can't figure out this sinking feeling in her gut. She feels like he's pulling away from her.

She can't help but think about what she'd said to him the other day, about being tired of living in the past. She knows Hook understood just how big a deal that was for her, just how huge a weight has been removed from her shoulders with that decision, how free she suddenly feels to pursue what she wants now. He told her he understood and he wasn't lying.

And ever since then, it feels like he's pulling away. He still right by her side, but not in the same way, and Emma doesn't know why. She doesn't want to think about why - there are too many fears bundled up in that word, just waiting to be released. She doesn't even want to think about what it means that she cares so much about whatever this is. She just wants it to stop.

She just… Emma sighs, and maybe it's because she's so tired, or maybe it's the leftover high from playing around with her magic so much, or maybe it's just because she's sick of not letting herself feel - but whatever the reason, she thinks the words: I just want Hook.

And then she has him.

Just like that.

He lands with a startled yelp, bouncing slightly, and Emma's eyes pop open. The room is dark, but not so much that she can't see the wide blue eyes goggling back at her from the other half of her pillow, less than an inch away. His arm had dropped over her waist as he fell from midair, and his hand grips automatically at her hip through the covers, making Emma's breath catch.

For a moment they just stare at each other. The bed's only a double; she can feel his knees pressed against hers. His hand grasping her hip. He's on top of the covers and she's underneath, but Emma can still feel his touch like a brand. He's panting a little and she can feel it on her lips.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?" she gasps.

"I - I'm in - what?" Hook jerks back in shock, and nearly falls off the bed. Emma lurches forward to stop him crashing to the floor, only just managing to grab onto him at the last moment and heave him into her after several seconds of struggle not to fall herself.

He lands half-across her. The comforter has been pulled mostly off her upper body, her pajamas dropping down over one shoulder in the struggle, and for a single second she can feel his chest hair scratching against her collarbones. Her lips land hard against his throat.

He makes this horrified little noise and yanks back again, this time not towards the edge of the bed. Emma scoots back and up, and then she's pressed up against her headboard, staring at Hook who's sitting with his knees straddling her legs. His coat is gone, she notices dazedly, and his shirt is unbuttoned two-thirds of the way down his chest, like he was in the middle of taking it off to go to bed. He's not wearing his hook.

He's crouched over her in her bed in the dead of the night, and they're both breathing fast.

"Swan, what the bloody-" he starts in a harsh whisper, but she cuts him off.

"I don't know! Okay, I-" she stops. Swallows. He's running his hand through his hair, ruffling it all up, and it's suddenly very hot in here. She's not entirely sure this isn't a dream. "I don't know what happened."

"You don't know - how can you not KNO-" Hook snaps, hand dropping from his hair and voice rising dramatically both in pitch and volume as he speaks. Emma doesn't even think about it, just leans forward and claps her hands over his mouth.

"Shh," she hisses, as Hook wobbles precariously over her, his breath unsteady against her palm and his pupils dilating. "Henry's asleep in the next room."

He nods slowly, staring at her, and she lets go cautiously.

"You weren't intending to summon me, I take it?" he asks in a low whisper, sounding much calmer but still a little panicked, and Emma shakes her head frantically.

"No, of course not! I was going to sleep, I was just lying in bed thinking-"

"Thinking about what?"

"About - oh." She feels like an idiot suddenly, feels incredibly stupid and young and completely humiliated, her entire face heating up. Even in the darkness she's pretty sure she's glowing red from her blush.

I just want Hook.

Oh god, she can't breathe.

Hook had been smirking a little when he asked his question, but when Emma stops short of answering, he blinks and frowns at her. She can see the exact instant he realizes his joke had been correct, because his jaw literally drops.

His mouth falls open a little and his eyes spark and he looks a little desperate, with his messy hair and his open shirt and panting breaths.

"Oh," he repeats, voice a low rasp. His gaze flicks down to Emma's lips.

And just like that, all the room in the air disappears.

Slowly, Emma sits up from where she was crumpled against her headboard. Hook's eyes go wide and he starts to lean back but Emma puts her hand on his chest and he freezes, breath going out of him instantly. He doesn't look away from her face. His heart is pounding under her palm, his skin is warm and a little sweaty.

His knees are framing her legs. She leans in a little closer and he wobbles, reaching out with his hand for balance. It lands on her upper thigh; they both shudder. His left arm dangles limp at his side. Their hearts are racing in desperate time; she can feel his beating under her hand, can hear her blood rushing through her ears.

It's dark but there's still light enough to see his throat working as he swallows. She feels reckless, wild and daring.

"Swan," he says, and it sounds choked. She curls her free hand around the back of his neck and leans in closer. He breathes in sharply through his nose when their foreheads touch.

"Hook," she whispers back, and feels magic thrumming all through her, warm and wanting. She lets her eyes drop shut.

His breathing is getting harsher, and when she tilts her head to brush their noses together, his hand clenches on her leg. Emma can feel herself smile, angling in to press their lips together, and this feels just like her magic, it feels simple and strong and right-

Hook pulls back.

She opens her eyes, and he's lifting his hand off her leg to gently grasp the arm that's around his neck and set it into her lap. His left arm comes up to push away the hand on his chest, the mechanism that holds his attachments feeling cool against her skin and oddly intimate.

He's staring at her like she's breaking his heart.

"No," he says, and it's very, very soft, and Emma doesn't understand. "We can't."

She flinches back hard at the finality in his voice, and his expression crumples a little more. He looks utterly miserable, leaning away, but Emma feels empty, rejected and hurt and uncomprehending.

There's a tiny, aching part of her still whispering I just want.

She opens her mouth - not sure what she's going to say, not sure what there is to say - but never gets the chance to speak. In that very moment, there's a noise from the hallway, and both Emma and Hook snap to attention, heads jerking towards the door.

"Mom?" Henry says, knocking gently at the door, and then the knob is turning and Emma looks back to Hook with utter panic in her heart because he can't be here and -

He isn't. As easily as he appeared, he's just suddenly gone again, vanished right in front of Emma's eyes, and it's what she wanted - what her own magic did, but somehow the sight of those rumpled covers makes her want to sob.

The door swings open, and Henry pokes his head in. "Mom?" he whispers. "Are you awake? I thought I heard something."

She turns to face him, and whatever he sees on her face has him coming up to the bed and hugging her without a word. Emma latches on, clinging close to him, breathing him in.

"Are you okay?" he asks, after a few moments.

She takes a deep breath and lets go, ruffling his hair. He smiles up at her and Emma loves him so much, she'll do anything for him, anything in any world and whatever she may want, he must be all she truly needs.

(She can lie to herself just fine.)

"I'm fine, kid," she says. "Just a bad dream."