Authors Note: This one is dedicated to the amazing So Much Tea! Thank you for always encouraging me to try scary writing ideas. I'd also like to thank her and Captainwiley for their amazing beta-ing! I love you both loads.
Disclaimer: Characters not mine!
The day after their engagement, Killian realized just how out of depth he truly was. He had no clue what this world's customs demanded of him to do, as husband to be.
At first, he tried to brush it off, pretend he knew what he was doing. He truly tried to abide by the advice Emma had given him once, when he asked about her savior-y abilities.
"Fake it 'til you make it, Killian. I've no clue what I'm doing… It's all about the confidence."
Being Captain Hook, of course, Killian could only imagine what she'd meant by that; in his previous line of work, being out of one's depth was fatal in its consequences.
Right now, however, he was growing more familiar with the feeling of uncertainty each day.
He can still recall the moment he realized his own wedding would be his demise. He had walked in on Emma in the midst of all her bridal flurry, making lists, counting chairs, flipping through magazines, marking things... the list goes on.
In all honesty, he was quite surprised. Never in a million years would he have imagined Emma embracing the princess in her. She deserved the world, and he'd do everything in his power to give it to her. And that needed to start with the perfect wedding.
He went off in search of the magic box - he recalled it aiding Belle in her quest to translate that relic all those months ago - however, his attempts seemed futile. He tried banging on it, pressed all the buttons he could find, he even offered it a helping of grilled cheese sandwiches; fed it through one of its slots. But nothing. The bloody thing wouldn't cooperate with him.
He tried the library, but once again, to no avail. Well, actually he did manage to learn he needed something called a suit? If the man from the periodical journal was anything to go by, at least.
He was lying face down in their shared bed when it hit him. Emma would know what to do! She was bloody brilliant that way, and with all her research, he knew she wouldn't steer him wrong. He couldn't just outright ask her, though. No, that wouldn't do.
Suddenly, a huge grin took over his face… he knew what he could do! He could just emulate her. That's it! Just do whatever she's doing. That could work! He could be bloody brilliant too, sometimes... or so he thought.
His plan, however, wouldn't need enacting until the week or so leading up to the wedding. After all, how was he expected to copy her if she wasn't doing anything? So he bided his time. He knew he could make her proud.
Fourteen days before the wedding.
Emma walked into her home to find her soon-to-be husband in the kitchen. She could get used to this; coming home to the amazing smell of her husband's cooking after a long day at work... or in this case, shopping.
She left her shoes and bags at the door so that she could tiptoe her way into the kitchen, evading his notice. She slowly moved closer until she had her arms wrapped around his waist, snuggling into his back.
"Hello, love." Killian didn't even falter.
"Hmmm… HEY!" Emma smacked his chest. "How are you not startled?!"
"Sweetheart, you are not as stealthy as you like to think. You practically smashed the door off its hinges."
Emma huffed a little in indignation, causing Killian to laugh and turn to give her three kisses; first to her brow, then her nose, and finally her lips.
"I've missed you, darling. How was your day with your mum?"
"Wonderful, actually. We got quite a lot done."
He waited for her to elaborate, but her lack of explanation led him to believe it was wedding related. She seemed very insistent on keeping everything a 'surprise' for him. It only served to make his mission that much harder. However, he did manage to convince her to forgo the whole 'being separated the night before the wedding tradition'. He appealed to her love for him when he begged her to not force him to spend another night away from her loving embrace, not after everything they've been through. As true as that was – and it was incredibly true – for the most part, he just needed access to what she'd be doing so that he could do the same.
So he waited: after dinner, after the movie she insisted they watch, after a vigorous round of lovemaking, until she was sleeping like the dead next to him. Once he was sure he would not disturb her sleep, he quietly made his way to where his Swan stashed her purchases.
He knew it was bad form, but the circumstances were dire.
He mentally catalogued the items as he saw them – obviously leaving the items strictly for women, like the corset or the undergarments. He wasn't daft.
Unnecessary items filtered out, he was left with a hollow circular piece of fabric, some tube-like hollow cylindrical pieces, some packet that read 'Facial clay mask, Avocado and Oatmeal', and an array of colorful mini containers of viscous liquid.
He sat there for a solid five minutes with all the items laid out in front of him, trying to memorize each by heart. Once he was sure they were engraved in his memory, he placed everything back and made his way back to bed. He made sure to pull Emma's sleeping form as close as humanly possible.
Tomorrow he would purchase the items. Tomorrow his mission would officially commence. But tonight… tonight he would hold his savior, his lover, his best friend, until the pull of slumber grew too forceful to resist.
Thirteen days before the wedding.
He was up and out of the house as soon as he was sure all the Storybrooke stores were open for business. When Emma asked him where he was going, his response of 'wedding duties' earned him quite the perplexed expression from his bride.
She's probably just astonished he was acclimating to this realms ways so quickly, he thought.
It seemed however, that he had once again overestimated his abilities. It was only when he counted off the – surprisingly plentiful – stores in this deceptively large-ish town, that he realized he had no clue where to begin looking; he'd have to check them all. And if that wasn't enough, upon entering the first of many stores, his attempts at explaining the items were met by hearty laughs from the store clerk.
Why must everything fall on his shoulders!
He spent the entire day scouring all the boutiques this town had to offer. A day well spent, considering he'd managed to find all the items in the end. With every acquisition, he'd ask the clerk for the names of all the items.
He'd learned he was looking for a garter, curlers, a facial mask, and nail polish.
However, he'd only managed to understand the purpose of the garter; it was meant to be worn around the thigh on one's wedding day... It seemed silly to him, but if Emma was doing it, he was doing it.
Simple enough, he thought. The rest he could figure out as he watched Emma.
Four days before the wedding.
It was on this day that he discovered the function of nail polish. Obviously, he'd already gathered it had something to do with his nails, but he'd never imagined he'd have to paint them.
This was such a strange land.
He sat with Emma and watched as each and every nail was slowly coated in a soft lilac color. He studied every movement of her hands, every step of the process so he could do it himself later.
Emma, of course, took notice of his attention, finding solace in his response of, "Everything you do is important to me, Swan."
Though he filed away all the information he needed, he couldn't do it himself just yet. He couldn't ruin the surprise. He wanted to see the look on her face when she saw him on their wedding day, appearing this world's standards of the perfect groom.
Two days before the wedding.
He was kicked out of his own home in favor of a girl's night in, before they were whisked away for their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties the day after. As offended as he was, he couldn't complain of having to spend the whole day with Henry. He would soon be an official permanent fixture in the boy's life, after all.
He thought Henry would enjoy some time sailing. He had expressed his love of it in the past, so Killian decided it'd be the perfect outing to facilitate some bonding.
They were out in the water, surrounded by the smell of salt, a nice breeze and an almost starry sky, when he thought it the perfect moment to give the lad something special. Something to let him know that, though they were not related by blood, he was always in his thoughts. That his love for the lad was not dependent on his love for his mother.
So he disappeared into the Captain's Quarters for a few minutes, appearing with a sector-shaped container upon his return.
"What's that?" Henry gestured to the container.
"This, m'boy, is a gift. Your gift."
"You got me a gift? Killian, you didn't have too, not just because you're marrying my mom."
"First of all, it's not exactly new… quite ancient actually. Second of all, that is exactly why I need to give you this. Because, Henry, I want you to understand that you're my family too. And not just because I'm to wed your mother. I know you had a father, and I never intend to replace him, but I must be honest with you, lad. I love you as if you're my own. And it's okay if you don't feel the same, but I need you to know that I'm committed to being there for you as much as I am your mother."
With that, he handed the gift over to a teary-eyed Henry – who almost broke the container in his haste to open it.
"You- Liam's sextant? Killian, I can't-"
"Yes you can, Henry. I've always dreamed of passing this one to my child. To keep it in the family."
"That's exactly my point. What if you and mom-"
"Henry, whatever happens in the future, you will always be my son. At least in my eyes. And I'd be honored just knowing that it's safe with you."
Henry carefully placed the sextant back in its container, before practically tackling Killian to the ground with the ferocity of his embrace. His tears were falling freely, now.
"I love you too, Killian."
And that's how Killian found himself crying as well.
They both laughed off their tears, and that's when remembered he had a burning question to ask the young sire.
"Lad, what is it exactly do they do on 'ladies night in'?"
Henry, grateful for the change of emotional topic was quick to respond.
"I don't know, put face masks, watch movies and braid each other's hair. I'm really not sure, though. Why do you ask?"
"No reason, just curious.."
He spent the rest of their time regaling tales of woe from his years past, teaching Henry some more sailor's knots and showing him how to properly steer a vessel as grand as the Jolly.
They had a great time.
Neither of them would ever forget the magnitude of the day's events.
The morning of the wedding.
God knows how, but Killian had managed to convince Emma to let him watch her get ready. At first she protested it being bad luck. She said she'd have her bridesmaids to help her and that she'd be fine. But he talked her into it, arguing it was only bad luck if she was in her dress, and that it'd mean the world to him. So she conceded.
So he watched, and learned and catalogued from the sidelines. He figured out the purpose of the curlers and he also watched as she used something called an eyelash curler, that he thought could be of use to him.
Once he felt he'd learned enough, and that he himself had to get ready, he swiped the eyelash curler and ran off to his makeshift dressing chambers.
He thought it best to start with the facial mask, considering the instruction on the back of the packet suggested it would be the most time-consuming of the tasks ahead.
He mixed the powder with the water, the waited to spread it all across his face like in the picture. The guide said to leave it for two hours, so he could start with the other things while he waited.
Despite only having to use three, the curlers ended up taking almost a full twenty minutes; he did not anticipate how difficult it would be to roll them on one-handed. He ended up having a lot of unused curlers, and he found it suspicious. Maybe he did something wrong? One look in the mirror gave him the answer to his question. It was almost like an epiphany. He looked from the mirror, down to his chest, and with another knowing grin to his looking glass self, he proceeded to line his chest hair with the remaining curlers.
He couldn't believe he ever doubted his own brilliance.
The nail polish proved an even more difficult feat. He ended up using his mouth to secure and move the miniature paintbrush across his fingernails. He was a bit put out, however, because Emma's looked a lot more refined and a lot less like an infant's first scribbles. He tried washing it off but the color didn't even fade.
He almost panicked when he thought of having to spend the rest of his life with the monstrosity that has become of his only remaining hand.
Wait. Did Emma know it was permanent?! Bloody hell, it was too late for her anyway; she'd succumbed to her fate days ago.
He decided there was no use in worrying about it now, he'd already lost that battle and had more important things to get to.
He slipped on the garter and zipped up his pants, decided to leave his shirt off until he had the mask out. He had a full hour before he could remove his mask. It was starting to really solidify on his face, but he assumed that was meant to happen.
Instead of wasting the time though, he thought he could take a crack at that eyelash curler. Emma made it look so simple.
And that was how David found him; shirtless, green faced, curler-filled hair, curler-filled chest, and with a lilac hand that was currently poised to curl his lashes.
For a moment, David just stood there in silence, gaping at his almost son in law. That didn't last too long however, with a quick flash of his phone camera, he was running off, giggling like a schoolgirl and yelling at the top of his lungs for his daughter.
"EMMA!"
Killian, not understanding the man's reaction, decided to not pay it any mind and continued making his eyes pop. He only managed two other clips before he was interrupted once again, this time by Emma. Only Emma, in all her bathrobe glory, took a whole lot longer to recover from the sight before her.
It was probably around three minutes before she spoke.
"Killian," she drawled out. "Honey, what are you doing?"
"Hello, darling! I'm getting ready for our wedding... as I'm sure you should be doing as well."
"I can see that… I just mean… wha-" She was clearly at a loss for words and he couldn't be prouder of himself for it; he'd rendered her speechless!
"I must admit it took me a moment to understand what I was meant to do. But I can only accredit my success to my teacher. Emma, thank you for showing me the ways of your world. I know you didn't know you were teaching me, if I'm honest, I was too embarrassed to outright ask. Yet if it weren't for you, I'd be completely lost and probably would've humiliated your whole family, and myself, with my erroneous understanding of this realm's groom-standards. I only wanted to give you the perfect wedding, love. You deserve the world and then some. "
It dawned on her then, his strange behaviour over the past few days, this morning even! Not wanting to part from her last night and watching her every move like a hawk. She often forgot he still wasn't completely accustomed to this world.
But still, in his own strange way, he was trying to do right by her.
"Killian, I really should save this for my vows, but I swear I love you more with every breath I take. I- what on earth did I do to deserve you?"
She went over to him, to hug him, to pepper kisses everywhere she could reach. This adorable, thoughtful, wonderful, perfect man was hers. For the rest of their lives, he was hers.
When she touched his face, however, it was rock solid. She was worried.
"Killian, how long has this been on your face?"
"About an hour or so? The packet said to keep it for two hours."
"TWO HOURS? What? Give me the packet."
He handed her the slim sachet.
"Gorgeous, this says twenty minutes! Not two hours. You dispose of it two hours within opening but keep it on your face for twenty minutes."
She tried to stay calm through her explanation; she didn't want to worry him. She peeled off what she could and helped him wash off the rest. By some miracle of God his face was not only unharmed, but also seemed to be glowing.
She didn't have the heart to tell him he was mistaken in his understanding despite his best efforts. So instead she just went about rectifying the situation as subtly as possible.
She started with the chest curlers. She slowly unraveled one at a time, telling him how she preferred him natural to anything the curlers could possibly do for him. With every curler removed, however, came a soft kiss in its place.
Next she felt it most important to deal with the nails… the hand, rather.
"You know what I want?"
"What, love? Anything. You name it and it's yours."
She really wanted to kiss him, but was determined to keep at least that tradition. She looked down to her own hand and continued,
"I'm not sure I'm liking the color anymore. I think I'd much rather go natural, don't you think?"
"Well, love, you do look beautiful in any state, but natural will forever remain my favorite." He suddenly turned sheepish. "I regret to inform you that the bloody paint is permanent! It won't wash off. It's a good thing they look rather darling on you, though… I was not so lucky."
A thought suddenly occurred to her.
"How did you even manage with the hook?"
"I used my mouth. T'was a challenge, but as you know I'm quite fond of those. Especially ones for you, Emma."
She hugged him again and peppered kisses into the crook of his neck. Then told him to wait while she fetched something called acetone.
She was back in minutes, bottle in one hand and cotton in the other. She cleaned off his hand first.
"Emma you're amazing."
But he stopped her once she reached for her own fingers.
"I know I made a bloody mess of my hand, but I remember how happy you were when you finally settled on the color. You should keep it." He then slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, softly brushing his lips against it.
She ended off her visit with the removal of the curlers in his hair. She quickly styled it then cupped his cheek,
"There is my beautiful Killian. I really desperately need to kiss you, but not until you are my husband. We've waited a week, what's one more hour right?" she was trying to persuade herself more than she was him.
"Your heart's desire, Emma."
With one last hug, she left the room; there was no use in testing fate. His fleeting "see you down the aisle Mrs. Jones." Almost had her turn back right then and there, tradition be damned. Thankfully her father was there to guide her back, to lead her into the wedding of her dreams, of every woman's dream.
Perfection didn't even come close in describing their wedding day.
The wedding night.
They were on the Jolly, sailing their way to their first honeymoon destination, their first night as husband and wife. It was official. They were married.
Emma Jones.
He'd never tire of hearing that.
They were currently in the starting moments of what was to be a passionate night for definite. Slowly but surely divesting each other of their clothes, when she noticed it.
"KILLIAN ARE YOU WEARING A GARTER?!" She couldn't contain her laughter at this one.
"Uhh, yes? Was I not meant to?" he was turning red all over.
"Mr. Jones, I love you, you can't even begin to fathom how much." She was still laughing.
"Mrs. Jones, it can't possibly be anywhere near as much as I love you. Nevertheless, It's bad form... laughing at a man in this state."
"I'm sorry," her laughter subsided into soft giggles. "You just keep on surprising me."
With that, she gave him a firm kiss to his lips, before sliding herself south and dragging the garter down his thigh with her teeth... much like he did for her soon after.
If this was their wedding day, she couldn't wait to see what life with Killian Jones would be like.