The title for this fic comes from the song Distance by Christina Perri. I was listening to a CS fanvid of the song on repeat while writing this (it's lovely and easily found on Youtube, check it out).

The prompt for this fic was two lines of dialogue between Emma and Hook. I continued the fic straight from the dialogue, so I've included it at the top, in bold to mark the difference.

"Let me go."

"Never."

He grinned the word up at her, cheeky and sexy and she was far too aware of his naked skin all over hers, the sunlight shining through the window to perfectly illuminate the tangle of their bodies in the bed, the dark mess of hair on his chest and the matching trail going down, down, between his hips and he was tugging her closer, pressing soft kisses across her belly, tongue and teeth just barely in play, fuck -

"No, seriously," Emma snapped, a little too breathlessly, and shoved his head away. She almost got lost in tangling her fingers through his hair (last night she'd gripped it hard and yanked his head back and just gone to town on his throat, and it was stupid, stupid, he had the most obnoxious gigantic hickey now but it hadn't mattered at the time because he'd slumped nearly entirely limp against her, shuddering and making the most pornographic noises she'd ever heard - well, until the noises out of her mouth five minutes later when he'd slid a knee between hers and flipped them over to return the favor a bit lower down, god her voice had cracked and broken right in half and he'd loved it, of course he did, and she'd grabbed onto his hair, yanking him in closer and he'd just laughed into her, licked into her) but snapped out of it quick enough, pulling back sharply.

"I've got to go to work," Emma snapped as she stood up and stomped over to her dresser to throw some clothes on. She was aware she sounded peevish and way too pissy for the morning after some truly record-setting sex, but that was just it. It was the morning after probably the best lay of her life and she didn't want to have to leave the bed at all. She wanted to stay with Hook, now sprawled obscenely over the sheets with the sun illuminating every mark she'd left on his skin, watching her with hooded eyes as she dressed swiftly before him - he was making no attempt to hide how much he enjoyed that view and she wanted to enjoy the view too, wanted to see how much further she could push the muscles that were still aching pleasantly, god she wanted to get back in bed more than anything and Hook was all but taunting her, the bastard, it was pissing her off.

"You don't have to," he said, voice low and enticing, and Emma froze for a moment in the act of putting on her left boot. "Let Dave take care of it, he'll be happy to, come back to bed."

It was tempting. So, so fucking tempting, but - "I have to pick Henry up after school," she said, and zipped up the boot.

"I won't keep you tied to the bedposts all day, love - just all morning." He laughed, rich and deep and goddamn fuck, she had to clench her hands into fists to keep from going over and kissing those laughing lips until there wasn't any air left in either of their lungs, not because it sent shivers up her spine (though it did) but just because he sounded so happy.

Emma bolted for the door.

She didn't even hear him moving, but he caught her just as she put her hand on the doorknob, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back around towards him. Emma gasped in surprise and no little anger - sure, they'd gotten a little rough last night but that in no way made it okay to physically restrain her from leaving - but the look on his face stopped her before she spoke.

There was no longer any trace of teasing in his eyes. They were fixed on her, something a little wild in them, a little terrified, black slowly taking over the blue as they dilated. His grip on her wrist was too tight, pinching her skin.

"Emma," Hook said, and licked his lips. The action was weird, and it took a moment to place why - it was unconscious, a nervous gesture instead of a deliberately sexual one. "Why are you so eager to leave?"

His voice was soft, all humor evaporated. His nakedness seemed wrong suddenly, as though he stood far too vulnerable before Emma, and he swallowed hard but didn't look away from her for even a second.

She was fully dressed and about to walk out the door. The red splashed so vividly across his neck seemed like a crime.

Maybe that was why she did it.

Because… it wasn't like this was going to stay a secret anyway. She and Hook were already more or less publicly dating, and with the clothes he wore a mark like that wouldn't stay covered up for long no matter what he did. Snow had probably already figured out what was going on when Henry spent the night at Regina's the same day she and David finally moved out to their own house (a necessity, with the baby coming). It wasn't like calling in sick to spend the morning rolling around in bed with Hook was impossible, far from it - she could do exactly that and there wouldn't be any problem, she was probably late already anyway, and - fuck, the thought alone had her trembling.

"I don't want to leave," Emma whispered, forced herself to offer up the vulnerability because it was only fair, because Hook was holding on too tight for anything but real fear. "That's - that's why."

Her throat swelled up, and she couldn't continue. It was stupid, Emma knew it was stupid, but - this was the first time in years she'd faced even the possibility of a morning after. It had been quickies, one-night stands and out before he woke up, illicit meetings with a man unwilling to spend more than a few hours with her at a time because he didn't want his wife to find out, not until the divorce goes through Emma, I love you too much to make you deal with that - she hadn't had this since Neal, and not really even then. It had been cars and other people's motel rooms and, rarely, a motel room of their own but always with the knowledge that sticking around for too long wasn't a good idea, always running to the next town, always running away, they hadn't ever done what Hook was promising, Emma hadn't ever done this but she wanted to so badly and she couldn't, she - could if only she'd let herself, why the hell couldn't she just let herself have this?

It felt like hours passed with them simply staring at each other before Hook slowly released her wrist. Emma watched, hypnotized, as his hand slowly, ever more slowly, lifted up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm and rough, shivers rolling through her as he gently cupped her cheek, thumb just at the edge of her lips. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could only stare at him and wonder what the hell he was doing.

Hook smiled, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. He sighed against her when Emma didn't respond, thumb pressing in to her mouth, opening it steadily, and she could still feel the curve of his grin as he kissed her, long and slow and so peaceful her heart ached.

When Emma opened her eyes several minutes later, his hand was in her hair, and her own were draped over his shoulders, stroking his back. Her back was pressed against the door, the length of his naked body pressed up against her, and everything felt pleasantly hazy. Despite all that, though, it somehow wasn't sexual. Just… comforting, and reassuring, and - loving, she could admit that. Usually that was too much but Emma could admit it now, that kiss hadn't been another attempt to seduce her back to bed, it hadn't been an avoidance, it hadn't been anything but Hook, loving her.

She closed her eyes again, hoping he couldn't see the wetness gathering at their corners.

There was a last soft kiss to her lips, more of a peck than anything, and then Hook drew back. When Emma blinked her eyes open again, he was grinning at her.

"Fine," he said. "Do as you wish. But I have no intentions of leaving your bed before midday."

And without another word, he went back to the bed and laid down, pulling the sheet up to rest barely over his hips, burying his head into her pillow and relaxing fully into the mattress.

Emma stared at Hook's still form for several long minutes, before quietly easing the door open behind her and stepping into the main loft. She could feel her heart beating, a steady thump thump that didn't match her terror and wonder and confusion and amazement and overwhelming sensation of being loved, trailing across her skin like fingertips, like the sound the leather and cloth covering Hook's stump had made when it fell to the floor last night, the way he looked away and Emma traced every line of the scar with her fingernails, a slow rough scrape that had him tensing more and more until she wrapped her entire palm around the place where his flesh stopped and he made this horrible little sound, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her fiercely enough to destroy time itself.

Emma very slowly picked up her phone, and called Snow. "I'm sick," she said numbly, not even attempting to sound the slightest bit congested. "Can you ask David to take over for today?"

(Hook didn't move at all when she came back into the room, or started undressing, dropping each new item of clothing one by one into a pile on the floor until she was once again completely naked. He didn't move when Emma slipped into bed behind him, pressing her face into the back of his neck and breathing him in, shutting her eyes tight enough to hurt and slipping one leg between his.

She knew he was still wide awake, but he didn't move until she wrapped an arm around him. Then he laced his fingers between hers, and held on, just kept on holding.)