A/N: Hello. The plan is to post a new Charming and Hook bromance story every week, depending on views. Please let me know what you think.

….

Once upon a time

David.

The forgiven.

"How long are you going to ignore me for, Davie?"

I nearly jumped a mile at Killian's frustrated voice, the carrot I was cutting shot across the countertop. The counter stool scrapped across the floor and I heard the groaning of Killian's leather jacket. I reached into the bag for another carrot and fiddled with the pot on the stove.

"I'm not ignoring you. We watched TV yesterday."

"No. Henry and Emma watched TV while you did everything in your power to avoid the room. And me. What's the matter?"

Methodically I chopped the carrot until it morphed into the sword I had used to run Killian through. I shoved it away from me and dumped the vegetables into the boiling water.

"There's nothing wrong with me, Hook. I've just been busy with Neal and Gold."

"I get that, mate, I really do. But you won't look at me anymore and I don't understand what I've done wrong. Please, tell me."

His voice hitched and despite my intentions I glanced over my shoulder. He latched onto my eyes and his face twisted with something that looked almost like desperation. There was a tenseness to his shoulders that I hadn't seen in a long time. A restlessness that made him tap his hook against the table top and bounce his leg. I knew that he was confused and probably a little hurt. He wasn't the master of subtlety that he used to be and I caught the frequent troubled glances he sent me when he thought I wasn't looking. I wrenched my eyes away and turned back to diner preparations. Killian made a strange strangled gasp behind me.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Hook. We're good."

"Don't lie to me." He spat. "And stop calling me Hook. I'm your friend, Davie, not some stranger who walked in of the street."

Killian had no idea how deeply he twisted the molten knife already in my gut. I wanted more than anything to spend a night aboard his ship with endless beers and his stories of the sea. But how could I when every time I looked at him, I saw his empty dead eyes? Perhaps he had forgiven me but I never could. Even though I wasn't in the right mind at the time, it had been my hand that had hurt him.

"I'm not lying to you. I really don't know what you want from me."

"I want my friend back! For whatever I did that's upset you so much I'm sorry. But if you don't tell me what I did then I can't fix it."

I reached for my knife and a bag of potatoes all the while my heart was cracking in half. The sheer pain and distress in his voice cut deeper than any other wound I had ever had. I could hear his quiet gasping breaths and the continuous beat of metal on wood.

"You've done nothing wrong. This isn't your fault." I reassured.

"Then what is it? Is it me and Emma? Mate, I thought you were over that filthy pirate phase."

"No, Ho-Killian I am. I don't have a problem with you and Emma. You're good for her and she loves you."

I never did like pirates.

A phantom's evil voice startled me and the knife bit deep into the palm of my hand. I dropped the knife to the counter and stuck my hand underneath the open faucet. Blood oozed from a large, deep gash across the sensitive flesh and the water ran red.

"Crap." I mumbled.

"Davie? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a scratch."

Killian appeared at my elbow. "We both know that your version of a scratch amounts to a bullet through the gut."

I huffed a laugh. "It was one time. Let it go."

"Nah, mate. I'm going to hold it over you for a long time."

I flinched and grabbed a dishcloth, pressing it over the wound and frowning at the blood that wept through. Killian sighed and wrapped his hand around my bicep, drawing me toward the chairs. He pulled my injured hand toward him and slowly peeled back the layers of fabric.

"I'm okay. You don't need to do this." I protested.

"Enough, Dave, enough. It's a fairly deep wound, it'll need that first aid kit thing. Where is it?"

"Bathroom cabinet."

Killian nodded and disappeared around the corner. I dropped my head into my free hand and swallowed hard. The slump in Killian's shoulders was impossible to ignore any longer. He walked on eggshells around me, constantly on edge and in fear of my temper. He didn't know the truth. I could never and would never blame him for the mess we were in. He had done nothing wrong. I was the one to blame. I had killed him and then driven a wedge between us. I was hurting him by trying to protect him.

A flash of anger made me lash out at the salt and pepper shakes and send them shattering to the ground. I stared down at the broken glass and winced at the sting in my palm.

"Better now?"

Tiredly I stared up at Killian's stormy eyes and for the first time saw the exhaustion in them. He clutched Snow's kit tightly to his chest and eyes the shards warily. I nodded and he perched on the chair next to me. He struggled with the zips on the kit and huffed when I batted his hand away and opened it for him.

"Thanks. You got blood on it." He commented.

"Snow won't mid." I replied.

He hummed and riffled through the contents, finally locating the tube of antiseptic cream and a roll of bandages. He picked up my hand and raised it to his eyes.

"Hold it there. It looks clean and I don't think it's as deep as I thought it was but we should get someone to look at it."

"Snow and Emma will be back soon."

"Sounds good. I'll put this on it for now. The bleeding's starting to slow down."

He wrapped the bandage around my hand so gently I barely felt it. When he was finished he flashed me a crooked smile and started to stand. I reached out and caught his wrist, he froze instantly.

"Wait. I-I'm sorry, Killian. You have to believe me when I say this isn't your fault."

He hovered for a moment and slowly sat back down.

"Why can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

I looked at the floor. "Because I'm ashamed."

"Why?"

"You're the best friend I ever had and I hurt you."

He fell silent and I glanced up in time to see realisation dawning in his eyes. I let go of the grip on his arm and stood up to tend to the bubbling vegetables.

"That's what this is about?" Killian asked softly. "For God's sake, mate, we were under a spell. I know you'd never really stab me."

"But it was me. I stabbed you in the back. I felt your blood. I saw you die! I killed you."

I wasn't aware that he had moved until I felt tentative pressure on the middle of my back. I sucked in a lungful of air, it was no coincidence that he had placed his hand in the exact same place where my sword had entered his body.

"You didn't kill me Davie. I'm still here."

"But I did. I left your body on the streets and walked away. How could I have done that? What kind of a monster does that?"

"Turn around; look at me." He waited until I was hesitantly facing him. "Look at me. David, it was a spell, that's all. Just a sad little man who turned the world upside down. I won't lie to you, yes it hurt and yes I died. But it wasn't your fault. The Author turned you into the very worst of yourself, just as he did to Snow. He did it, not you."

I hung my head. "I'm so sorry, Killian."

Killian shook my shoulder and growled, smacking his hook against my chest.

"You're not listening to me! I. Don't. Blame. You. Please, just let it go."

I stared at him, read the sorrow that my silence had carved into his face and my will trembled. Would this continuous self-punishment really achieve anything? Despite so many attempts we were both still alive and I was wasting time. The tension that hung over our homes was because of me. Snow always did say I never knew when to quit. Killian shuffled his feet and fiddled with the first aid kit. He looked so forlorn and broken down as he stood in front of me that I couldn't deny him anything. I stepped up to him and tugged him briefly against my side. He looked at me with hopeful eyes that lit up as I smiled at him.

"All right, you win." I conceded.

He chuckled. "Good. Now, c'mon mate; the sea and the stars are calling."