Emma frowns at the cylindrical glass on her counter.

It was taunting her.

It was just a jar of pickles but it was taunting her because it steadfastly would not open.

She'd tried hitting the sides with a butter knife, running it under water, using a towel. She didn't have one of those rubber things or she'd have probably failed with that too.

There was only one thing left to do.

"Hey babe!" she yells to the living room, using the little-used pet name so he doesn't think she's in trouble. "Come here a second."

Confused, and perhaps even a little suspicious, Killian rounds the corner. He notices her tensed shoulders, hands on hips, and she's glaring at the jar on the counter like it personally offended her.

"What is it, love?" he asks.

Without taking her eyes off the jar she says, "Open it." He can tell she's not happy about having to ask for help with this, so he merely takes the jar and settles it into the crook of his elbow, gets a good grip and twists. It takes a little more effort than he thought it would, but he gets it open in no time.

Unfortunately this seems to exacerbate her annoyance.

"That is so not fair," she grumbles as she takes the jar from him. He sets the lid on the counter and leans a hip next to it. He's not sure his next question will go down well, but he asks anyway.

"Why didn't you just magic it open?"

Emma stops and blinks. She looks at the big pickle jar and purses her lips.

"I have magic," she says evenly.

Killian has a hard time containing his smile. "Yes, you do."

"I could have magicked this open."

He turns his head and bites his lip in an effort to keep his laughter at bay. Emma really doesn't need him laughing at her.

And then she burst out laughing, herself, and he could no longer keep it in.

"Oh wow I'm an idiot!" she wheezes a minute or two later, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Through his chuckles Killian responded, "Honestly, with as hard as you were glaring at the thing I'm surprised it didn't spring open in abject fear."

"You know, me too?" she grinned.