A/N: I know, I know, I have about 500 other things I should be working on, but this is a present! It is a Valentine's Day present for Miss Natalie (nautilustude), my Captain Swan (Not Secret At All) Valentine! Happy Valentine's Day, love! *smoochies*
Side note: This takes place in what I like to call Normal!Verse. The Big Bad has been vanquished, there's no obvious threat looming on the horizon, and people can breathe and do things like celebrate Valentine's Day. It follows the canon that we have so far, and does not take spoilers and/or popular theories into account. (Therefore, a character believed to be the one who, ah, disappears remains in town. Although they don't make a direct appearance, thank god. (or me))
Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own these lovely people. I don't own their characters either, if ya know what I mean.
Don't look for shooting stars
For love is only love
You touch and still you touch the ground
Don't listen for those bells
For love is only love
It was just one of those days.
And despite what everyone was saying, it most certainly was not because she didn't have a Valentine.
It started when she woke up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. In one of her better foster homes, her foster mother had insisted on cooking a large breakfast every day. David, it seemed (she hoped), had picked up the habit. She hurried downstairs, mouth watering, and saw David in the kitchen, still in his pajamas, cooking up a storm. "Morning," Emma yawned. "Mary Margaret still sleeping?"
"Like the dead," David smiled fondly. "I didn't think you'd be up this early."
Sitting at the counter, Emma shrugged, "Pancakes and bacon can do that to a girl."
His face fell. "Oh. Um, they're for Mary Margaret," he explained guiltily. "It's just that Henry is at Regina's and like I said, I didn't think you'd-"
"It's fine, David, really. I get it. It's Valentine's Day."
The man was visibly relieved. "Thanks," he sighed. "I can whip something up for you, too, if you'd like."
Emma vacated her seat. "No, it's fine," she assured. "I'm already up, I may as well head out and get some work done. Thanks, though."
Obviously conflicted, David turned back to his cooking, but said earnestly over his shoulder, "I'll be there in an hour or so. Let me know if you change your mind." She could tell he wanted to be a dad and make his daughter breakfast, but at the same time he wanted to be her friend and give her space.
While she appreciated that, she was still hungry.
So after she was dressed and out the door, her first stop was Granny's. Because if anyone can do pancakes, it's Granny. As the bell above the door dinged her entrance, her eyes took in the construction-paper cupids hanging from the ceiling and the lace hearts taped to the walls. She couldn't escape. Sighing, she steeled herself and slumped into a booth. It wasn't that she didn't like Valentine's Day. She just liked it a lot more in elementary school, where there were no romantic obligations, and the teachers handed out free candy. The closest she had ever gotten to a real Valentine had been Neal, and that didn't exactly work out very well.
Ruby came skipping over to take her order; there was really no other way to describe the elated spring in her step. "Morning, Emma," she chirped. "What can I get you?"
"What's up with you?" Emma countered, eyebrow raised.
The wolf-girl grinned wider, if that was even possible, and sighed like a starlet in a chick flick. "Just the romance of today," she smiled. "Victor came in for breakfast earlier and I could just tell he wanted to ask me to be his Valentine, but he was so nervous and adorable that I just put him out of his misery and asked him out myself. He looked like a deer in headli-"
"I'll have a blueberry muffin and some coffee to go, please." I've lost my appetite.
Visibly deflated, Ruby nodded and walked off to get her order. Emma knew she was being rude, and she couldn't fault her for being happy, but she just really wasn't in the mood. When Ruby came back, Emma collected her food and drink, handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change by way of apology. A meager apology at best, but it was a start. Maybe she'd buy her lunch or something. Just not today.
As she was leaving, she nearly ran into Killian, who had just come in. "Ah, good morning, Swan," he smiled. "You're looking lovely as always. I was just looking for-"
"Not today, Hook." She pressed past him and out the door.
"You," he finished, mostly to himself.
And if it's love you've found
Your heart won't hear a sound
And when you hold his hand
You only hold his hand
The violins are all a bluff
To say that work was dull was an understatement. All of the villains in town seemed to have come to the general consensus that since it was a day of love, they weren't going to cause any trouble. Gold (resurrected, though no one had any idea how because he refused to tell) had Belle, and Regina had brought her True Love, freaking Robin Hood, back from the Enchanted Forest. Since they were all keeping each other in check, and King George had gone off the grid, there was nothing to do but play trashcan basketball. Nothing to distract her from the events of the morning or the fact that it was Valentine's Day. Speaking of, David had come in like he said, but after she pointed out the very noticeable hickey just behind his ear, he turned Valentine's-Day Red and muttered that he was going to go patrol. At least he was doing something.
"Mom?"
Emma shot up out of her chair. Shit. She was supposed to meet Henry for lunch. "In here, kid," she called, scrambling to pull on her jacket.
Henry appeared in the doorway of her office, cheeks still red from the cold outside. "Hey, where were you?"
"Sorry, I was, uh…" You know, for having nothing to do, you sure were busy at it. "I lost track of time," she explained lamely. "You ready?"
"Are you?" he joked, smirking in a way that was way too familiar and she swore that if Captain Hook was teaching her son how to be a lady-killer, she was going to cut off his other hand. Maybe she'd take the rest of his arm just on principle.
But she just nodded and scooped up her keys from the desk, following her son out into the chilly afternoon. "What's up?"
"Well, I was helping Roland make valentines earlier, and he poured an entire of tube of glitter on my head," he groaned, shaking his head. "I took two showers, and I still look like Tinker Bell."
"I was gonna say, I knew you had a sparkling personality, but…" she trailed off, brushing some of the glitter out of his hair. "So, did you save any valentines for someone special?"
A deep blush crept up Henry's face, and he shrugged nervously. "I might have made one for Maddie…"
Eyebrows shooting up, she asked, "Maddie? What happened to Grace?"
"I think I like her more as a friend," he shrugged.
"All right, Romeo," she laughed. "What's this Maddie like?"
Seemingly unable to help the goofy grin that appeared on his face, Henry then began babbling on about this girl in his math class and how she was so sweet and so smart and she had the prettiest green eyes he had ever seen. He was just describing her perfect smile and her perfect freckles when they reached the diner and sat in their usual booth. Only then did she stop him to tell him to figure out what he wanted to eat, as if they both didn't already know. When the waitress, not Ruby, Emma noted with a small amount of guilt, came to take their order, Emma got a burger and Henry opted for the chicken tenders and fries.
"So," her son started, folding his hands on the table, "what are you doing for Valentine's Day?"
What was she doing? It wasn't like she had anyone to spend it with. Don't you? said a small, traitorous voice in her head. Waving it off, she shrugged, "I thought I'd just read a book or something. David and Mary Margaret are going out to dinner and a movie tonight, so it'll be quiet."
Head cocked in confusion, Henry asked, "You don't have a Valentine?"
"No, I don't," she groaned, "and I don't really want one."
"Are you sure? Because that might make you feel better."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Don't be mad, but Ruby told me about this morning while I was waiting for you."
"So what, I'm hot gossip now?" she snapped. "My happiness has nothing to do with if I'm dating someone or not. Why can't anyone get that?"
"I just-"
"What?"
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he soothed.
His words hit her like a brick and her stomach turned to lead with guilt. "Henry I'm so sorry, I just…" She sighed deeply. "I'm having a really stressful day. I didn't mean…"
"That's alright. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" God, how did she end up with such a great kid?
"No," she sighed, rubbing her temples, "today and tomorrow are your dad's nights. I'll be fine."
Henry smiled hesitantly and the conversation drifted into more familiar topics, like what he was learning at school, and fairy tale identities of townspeople they had figured out. They were debating whether or not the couple that owned the Bella Note Italian restaurant were, in fact, Lady and the Tramp (and the sanitary implications if they were) when their food arrived. Henry dug into his without any preamble, but when Emma took the bun off her burger to remove the lettuce, she noticed the meat was charcoal black. "Seriously?" she groaned. "This is like a hockey puck." Normally if this happened, which it practically never did, she would just coat the thing with ketchup and eat it anyways, but today was already bad enough. She just wanted a decent lunch with her son before she had to go back to doing nothing for the rest of the day. Or at least until David came back to do nothing for her. Emma called the waitress over to send her burger back to the kitchen.
The events that followed seemed to happen in slow motion.
A man at a table suddenly got up from his chair, not knowing the waitress was walking right behind him.
The waitress lost her balance and the squeeze bottle of mustard on her tray fell over.
She slammed her hand down on it to stop it from falling off.
A stream of the condiment came flying out.
And landed all over Emma's white shirt.
The waitress gasped and started blurting out apology after apology before dashing to the kitchen for some napkins. Henry just gaped at the scene, mouth open in shock. The man who caused the whole damn thing muttered a quick 'sorry' and left the diner. Some teenagers sitting by the door were shaking, hands over their mouths, trying so hard not to laugh.
And with that, it was official. She hated Valentine's Day.
But if you're really wise
The silence of his eyes
Will tell you
Love is only love
And it's wonderful enough
She was not going to resort to the heartbreak ritual. Not today, of all days.
The ice cream would remain in the freezer, the wine would remain corked, and she would not be watching some mushy romantic comedy. In fact, she resolved to do the exact opposite. That's how Emma found herself watching The Silence of the Lambs, nursing a rum and Coke (okay maybe just some rum), and eating a sandwich that Dagwood himself would envy. She had the apartment to herself and that's just the way she wanted it. A nice, quiet evening with some alcohol and Hannibal Lecter was just the solution for the day she had. Who needs a Valentine, anyways?
She was refilling her rum and… rum, when there was a knock on the door. Who the hell… David and Mary-Margaret left about a half-hour ago, after multiple assurances that she was fine, and she wasn't expecting anyone. Deciding to ignore it, she slumped back onto the couch and was raising the sandwich to take a bite when they knocked again, more insistent this time.
"Swan? I know you're in there, lass."
Practically throwing her sandwich back down on the plate, she sighed. Hook- no, Killian. Hook had disappeared a long time ago- had crossed realms for her, gotten her memories back for her with that potion, but not before he'd tried True Love's kiss (which she refused to look at the implications of). She had him to thank for being here with her family. Her crazy, convoluted, extended family. She'd been doing her damnedest just to keep things normal between them, which had never been easy to begin with, let alone after everything with Pan's curse. Unfortunately, that meant avoiding him. Childish? Sure. But she'd needed the time and space to work things out, and it looked like she was out of both.
Emma practically heaved herself off the couch, storming to the door and wrenching it open. "What?" she practically growled.
Surprised by her hostility, Killian's eyes widened. "Nice to see you too, Swan. I'm fine, thanks for asking."
"What do you want, Hook?"
"During his visit this afternoon, your lad mentioned that you were having an off day," he said, nervously fiddling with his hook. "He was rather adamant that you needed some company tonight other than, and these are his words, 'a giant sandwich and some creepy horror movie'."
Damn. That kid knew her way too well. "And he sent you?"
"On the contrary," he smiled. "I volunteered."
"Really?"
"Well, any time that I get to spend with you is a reward all its own," he replied nonchalantly, even though she could see a speck of nervousness underneath his carefully crafted façade. "So, yes. Really."
While trying to suppress the flutter his words created in her stomach, she considered his offer. "Fine," she sighed. "Come on in. But I'm still eating my giant sandwich and you can't stop me."
"Fair enough," he smirked, walking inside. His eyes landed on the television, watching the movie that she hadn't bothered to pause. She'd seen it so many times already, she could leave it going and know exactly what was happening when she came back. "Is this your 'creepy horror movie'?
"Yeah," she replied, closing the door behind him. The movie was at the scene just after Clarice left the asylum; the flashback with her father. "Have you figured out what movies are?"
He nodded, transfixed with the film. "Aye, Henry showed me. But the ones I've seen have all been, what is it, animated? Cinderella and Pinocchio and the like."
Grinning wickedly, she led him to the sofa. "Well, Jones, I'd say it's about time you got an education in live-action films. Sit down," she told him. Not that he really had a choice, as she pushed on his shoulder until he slumped down on the couch. "I'll get you a drink."
As she got a glass from the cabinet and poured him some rum, she heard him ask, "Should I be concerned?"
"Probably," she stated, handing him a tumbler of amber alcohol. "Thankfully, you've got me to protect you."
She didn't realize the significance of her words until he smiled fondly and looked at her from the corner of his eye. Taking a swig of his drink, he pointed at the screen. "Who is that?"
"That's Clarice, the main character," she explained, "she works for the FBI. You know, it's not that far in. I can start it over if you'd like."
He shrugged, "It's no matter to me."
"No, it's fine," she insisted, reaching for the remote. "I don't want to have to explain everything."
"While I have been introduced to moving pictures, I'm not an expert on your world yet, love. So you'll probably be explaining everything whether you start it over or not."
"In that case," she said, navigating to the scene selection menu on the DVD, "I don't want to have to explain the plot, too." Sipping at her rum, she asked, with no small amount of snark, "So how was your Valentine's Day?"
"Up until now," he frowned, "a bit disappointing."
"Why's that?" she questioned with genuine interest.
"Well, there's this," he sighed, "infuriating woman that I am completely enamored with. Brave, brilliant, fantastic body, I mean you should see-"
"I get it," she grumbled into her glass. "She's perfect."
The bastard had the audacity to grin at her, like he's trying to get a rise out of her. And god was it working. "Yes, she is. Anyways, nearly all day I was trying to devise a way to approach her, seeing as how this is the day of love in your world. I thought I had it figured out, but it seemed as though she had a negative relationship with this holiday, so I had to re-evaluate my approach." He downed a mouthful of rum before continuing. "I'd already known that it would be difficult, seeing as how her stubbornness is one the things I admire most about her, but this presented an additional challenge. But you know me, I love a challenge. So, I made some inquiries."
Raising an eyebrow, Emma asked, "Inquiries?"
"Yes. I went to her friends, loved ones, asking why she was in such a foul state. From their responses, and what I already knew about her, it was perfectly understandable why she should be so upset. Therefore, I set out to improve her day, but just as I was getting around to it, it got worse. And so the challenge grew, along with the need to make her happy and see that wonderfully rare smile of hers." She barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, instead taking a long drink from her own glass and savoring the burn. "The only question was how? There's the age-old adage that diamonds are a girl's best friend, but she doesn't really seem like the type who would accept diamonds from a man who wasn't courting her. Then of course there's flowers and chocolates, but if she dislikes the holiday, then it stands to reason that those wouldn't be a very good bet. So, I decided to go with something simple."
"That being?"
Grinning, he said, "Well, the pleasure of my company, for starters. Then, once I'd broken the ice, as they say, I thought I'd give her these." He dug a small, ornate box out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. Finding the clasp, she opened the box and gasped. Inside the box was a pair of emerald earrings; one round rock arranged above a pear-shaped stone, both set in what seemed to be platinum. They practically glowed in the light and had to be worth a small fortune. "I obtained these from a princess's lady in waiting in a game of cards. Of course, she went on to say that I'd stolen them. But that was centuries ago, I doubt anyone else alive at the time isn't anymore. What do you think?"
"They're stunning." She swallowed thickly and closed the box. "She's going to love them."
"Yes," he said reverently, "they go wonderfully with her eyes."
"Yeah, sure," she sighed, holding out the box for him to take back. "So when are you going to give them to her? It's getting late."
He took the box and placed it on the coffee table. "I just did."
Her gaze snapped up, searching his eyes and finding truth. Truth, nervousness, and something she had known for a while, but was just coming to grips with: love. "Hook-"
"I have a real name, Emma," he pleaded.
"Killian," she breathed, savoring the way his name felt right coming from her mouth, "this is… I don't… You…"
"Please accept them, lass. It would mean a lot to me."
"I…" Take a leap of faith. "Yes. Yes, I love them. Thank you." She leaned forward, almost drawn to him, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He tensed briefly under her lips and his stubble brushed her cheek as she lingered, breathing him in. Judging from his deep breaths, he was doing the same. "Killian-"
Before she could say anything else, he shushed her and moved his hand to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, and pulled her in the small distance between them until their lips met. It was everything their first kiss wasn't. Slow, sensual, almost gentle by comparison, but still retaining an edge of heat. Their hands explored tentatively, searching, feeling, seeking the other out in a slow dance that they knew well. Tongues teased at lips until they parted, deepening the kiss and drawing the lovers closer together. When the need for air grew greater than the need for each other, they pulled apart, resting their foreheads against each other. "So what do you say, love?" he panted, smirking, his warm breath fanning against her lips. "Will you be my Valentine?"
Her eyes snapped open and she met his piercing sapphire stare, and she grinned widely. "What do you think?" she teased, meeting his lips once more. They melted into the kiss, and she could feel every last drop of love he had for her being poured into it. It was unfamiliar, but it warmed her from the inside and she found herself returning with some love of her own.
"Now then, tell me. What did Miggs say to you? Multiple Miggs in the next cell. He hissed at you. What did he say?"
"He said, 'I can smell your cunt.'"
Killian broke the kiss abruptly, head whipping around to face the television. "That was awfully crude," he huffed, already out of breath again.
He truly was a sight. Hair tousled from her fingers, lips kiss-bruised, staring at Anthony Hopkins on the TV with a look of utter bewilderment and shock. Unable to help herself, Emma clapped a hand over her mouth and laughed. It echoed around the apartment and she could hear Killian chuckle along with her. She laughed hard enough that her cheeks began to hurt. "Maybe," she managed between laughs, "maybe, we should turn the movie off."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," he grinned, his mouth moving to kiss along the column of her neck.
And when she woke up the next morning, pleasantly achy in all the right places and wrapped in the arms of her pirate, she figured that maybe next year's Valentine's Day wouldn't be so bad.
Without the shooting star
Without the sounds of bells
Without the violins
Love is wonderful enough
Oh gosh can you get feels from your own stuff?
Did you get it? Did you catch the shush? That was thrown in special for you, shushette(s). It's not much, but it's the thought that counts, yes?
BTW, those earrings are worth a small fortune. Or, to my middle-class teenage mind, a large one.
In case you want the full effect, these are the earrings:
www dot gemvara dot com / jewelry / belle-earrings / round-emerald-platinum-earrings-with-emerald-peridot / 5rh7y
I hav- I mean, Killian has excellent taste.
The song is from the movie version of Hello, Dolly!, my other favorite movie. The first being The Silence of the Lambs. Don't judge me, I have varied tastes.