AN: My first Once Upon a Time fic! I blame (thank?) Killian Jones entirely. Captain Swan, man. It's, like, taken over my life.

Summary: She shouldn't have been surprised. Pirates were certified kleptomaniacs after all – even when sound asleep, apparently, and even when it came to Emma's sheets. No raunchy business – this is comfortably PG. Established Captain Swan. Oneshot. Really rather fluffy.

Disclaimer: I own the plot. That is all.

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Thief

...

It was the cold that woke her, she worked out quickly, and no wonder.

The layers of sheets and blankets that usually covered her had vanished somehow, her tank top was doing absolutely nothing to keep any heat in, and the light breeze whistling through the just-open window was enough to raise goosebumps on her skin.

Emma shivered slightly, curling in on herself a little and tucking her arms closer into her body in an effort to trap what remained of her body heat, unwilling to wake up properly.

...Nope. Still too cold.

Stubbornly keeping her eyes shut, she reached out with one hand and blindly groped about, looking for the blankets that for some reason were not tucked up around her chin like they should have been.

Ah – there. Down around her waist, for some reason. Emma curled her fingers into the fabric and tugged, intending to wrap the sheets and blankets about herself like a warm, thick cocoon and snuggle down into them to go back to sleep for a good few hours.

Except that the bedding didn't come when she tugged, and instead stayed stubbornly put.

Scowling crossly and grumbling irritably under her breath, Emma blinked her eyes open and half sat up, glaring through the darkness at the sheets that weren't doing as they were told.

And, ah.

Bloody pirate.

She really shouldn't have been surprised. Pirates were certified kleptomaniacs, after all – even when sound asleep, apparently, and even when it came to Emma's sheets.

Killian – hookless, for the moment (she'd told him he wasn't allowed to sleep with it after it kept poking her awake in the middle of the night, and it was now sitting on the bedside table, glinting in the faint moonlight) – was sound asleep next to her, lips parted and breathing deep and even, his dark hair contrasting starkly against the white pillow... and his body very snugly wrapped in all of Emma's bedding.

"Damn thief," Emma muttered under her breath, and reached over, setting about reclaiming some of her sheets.

Easier said than done, as it turned out.

Captain Hook was hardly one to let go of something that he'd claimed as his own, and apparently Emma's bedding now fell under that banner, and when he became aware – even through the veil of sleep – of someone trying to take his blankets away, he grumbled under his breath and rolled, curling in on himself and trapping the sheets even more securely against him.

Emma growled.

She had been trying to be subtle – trying to get some of her blankets back without disturbing him and waking him up – but clearly that wasn't going to work.

And, she realised, there was no reason she should be concerned about waking him anyway. If he hadn't stolen her sheets in the first place, she wouldn't have to risk waking him to get them back.

Decision made, she took a firm hold on the edge of the bedding (her bedding, thank you very much) and then yanked.

It... worked. Of a fashion.

Her yank of epic proportions succeeded in freeing the blankets from Hook's clutches, yes, but the force of her pull also yanked him towards her, and she yelped a little as one of his arms and half his torso flopped bonelessly across her, forcing the breath from her lungs with his heavy landing. His arm was flung around her waist, hand hanging limply against her hip, and his head was half on her shoulder, his hair in her face and breath warm against her collarbone.

And yet, she realised, squirming a little to get her mouth and nose out from where she found it buried in his hair, he was still asleep.

Totally and utterly sound asleep. How he'd managed to sleep through being thrown across the bed, Emma had no idea, and she huffed in irritation.

She was tired, she didn't want to be awake – she'd had a long day at the station yesterday and she'd been up early that morning and she had to be up early again this morning, and she wanted to be asleep, damn it, but no. No, she'd been forced into an unwilling state of wakefulness because Captain bloody Hook had stolen her sheets and she was bloody freezing, and even though she'd hardly been delicate in her reclaiming of the bedding the damn man was still comfortably asleep and she was still uncomfortably not asleep, and she was not happy about it.

Killian shifted slightly against her and sighed in his sleep, his breath warm and light against Emma's collarbone and his arm tightening around her, his hand snagging at the base of her tank top and fingers tangling in the fabric there.

Emma stayed still for a long moment, and only when she was sure he was settled did she shift, quietly moving around until she could get a good look at him.

He was gorgeous, she had to admit. She would never say it aloud (he announced his good looks frequently enough himself – her saying it too would only add to his already inflated ego), but that didn't make it any less true. His hair was dark where it brushed against her pale skin, his expression totally relaxed in sleep, his dark eyes hidden from her view by eyelids with unfairly long lashes.

She shifted again, trying to get comfortable, and Hook's nose scrunched up a little in vague discomfort as her movement disturbed him (because, go figure, being flung across the bed wasn't enough to rouse him, but her slight restlessness was).

"M'mma," he grumbled, still mostly asleep and slurring her name terribly, and she couldn't help but smile as he pulled her closer to him and twisted his head until his nose was pressed against her skin, his expression and breathing smoothing out again as he got comfortable.

Yes, he was gorgeous. Gorgeous and adorable. There was no way that the guy could snuggle into her like that without her labelling him adorable. How on earth was she supposed to stay cross with that?

"Ugh, you're such a pain in the ass," she muttered half heartedly, sighing and resigning herself to spending the rest of the night wrapped very securely in Killian's hold (like that was so unusual, she thought sarcastically).

At least she was warm now, she mused as she settled her head back against her pillow, her hand coming up of its own accord to rest over Killian's shoulder, her fingers tangling in his hair. The covers were back in place and Hook was wrapped around her; coldness wasn't going to be an issue for the rest of the night.

And no, Captain Hook was not one to let go of something he'd claimed as his own for nothing. But occasionally, he could be persuaded to trade, and tonight he had cheerfully traded his hold on Emma's sheets for a hold on her.

Clearly, if she wanted to retain an even ownership of her bedding, she was going to have to remember that trick.

...

AN: So there we have it – my light-hearted first foray into the OUaT world. It occurred to me this morning that Hook would totally be the kind to steal sheets, and Emma would totally be the kind to not stand for it.

Hope you enjoyed!

Bundi