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Forgotten Flask
A few years ago, the dark flask had been as much a part of him as his hook.
The gently dyed, leather like cover wrapped up to its neck; a few uncomplicated stitched adornments. Portions were lightened and indented at the spaces where his fingertips sat. Each draught of strong rum had polished the flask's lips until they were smoother than glass.
The bottle's well-known texture, the lingering scent of rich molasses encased within, evoked memories of innumerable other occasions- happy recollections.
He had shared his flask with Emma in Neverland. The bold taste of his favorite rum had been beyond delectable when combined with the softness of her mouth.
He had offered it in moments when his love was distraught and anxious; the alcohol heating her limbs and flushing her cheeks. There was no sight more beautiful in all the realms.
As the months crept by, he found himself reaching for the long-familiar vessel less and less. It still remained in the pocket of his jacket though. He kept it on hand should Emma require a swallow or two.
It was a tie to their past, a connection to their present.
And he had lost the bloody thing.
When Swan arrived back at their Victorian, it was to a state of disorder and confusion. Pillows and throw blankets were scattered on every surface. Killian's long black trench hung over the edge of their sofa, pockets pulled out displaying their emptiness.
And her pirate was positioned in the midst of the chaos. His legs were hip-width apart while his palm ran through rumpled hair. Annoyance was distinctly carved on his face.
"Misplace something babe?"
His coal colored head whipped upward at the husky quality of her voice. "Aye love. To my great embarrassment, I have. I could have sworn my flask was still kept in within the confines of my coat."
Another pillow was moved and replaced with a dissatisfied huff.
A chuckle. His brows knitted together in confusion when Swan smiled. He had failed to notice the brightly wrapped package in her arms.
"Sorry...I kinda borrowed it...but I have a really good reason."
She guided Killian to the couch and settled her present on his lap. "Open it."
A playful sparkle lit her eyes and he felt his lips quirk up in response.
The hook made short work of the scarlet ribbon, fabric sliding around metal. The box opened with a soft thunk and his eyes widened.
There, in a mass of festive red paper of tissue, was his flask...but his view was drawn to the extra detail Emma's present included.
On the bottle's sole central embellishment were the words "Proud Papa."
Moisture flooded his gaze, making his wife a watery silhouette. His heart took a nosedive into his belly while his throat tightened. He strangled out,"Truly love?"
She worried her bottom lip, her own eyes bright. A grin was blooming.
His next words were thick with emotion, "Emma darling." His smile rivaled hers as he reached for her, hand splayed at her back, hook near her hip. His lips greedily searched out hers, excitement and laughter making them quiver as they kissed. The pad of her finger swiped away tear before it reached his stubbled chin.
His happy sigh made her giggle.
"Merry Christmas Daddy."
Killian rubbed her nose against his. "And to you as well my love."
His forgotten flask had yet another wonderful memory attached to its form.