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A/N: Edited repost. Upped Rating.
It starts with Ashley.
She was shuffling her feet, waiting to pick up their coffee orders to-go when the young mother approached her at Granny's.
"Hey Emma," She greeted her with a wide-toothed smile, her toddler propped against her hip and decked out in pink. Ashley is one of the few people in town Emma is truly fond of, regardless of her saviour/sheriff status. Young mom. Fought for her kid. Decent with a gun. The smile Emma returned was genuine.
Alexandria shifted against her mother's grip as Ashley continued. "Congrats on the big day! Any plans?"
Emma panicked. Her mind reeled for any potential major holiday she had missed. Her parents loved holidays. Even the slightly obscure ones like Trivia Day (January 4th) or Inspire your Heart with Art Day (January 31st). Granted, she hadn't truly complained when they announced that it was Bubble Bath day, but Mary Margaret had teared up when her daughter didn't send a card for I Want you to be Happy Day. (March 3rd) After that disaster, Emma had made an effort to keep track of any obscure, overly-cheesy holiday that her parents may have latched onto.
Henry had laughed at her over-the-top, ridiculously annotated calendar until David had warned him not to go outside on National Nude day (July 14th). Now, whenever he passed by the calendar he got oddly quiet and vacant. Emma was pretty sure she owed Regina some therapy money for that particular incident.
Christ, if she had forgotten International Children's Book Day, her mother would be off in some corner by now.
"You know," Ashley added, seemingly perplexed by what Emma was sure was a fairly vacant and terrified expression on her face. "It's the anniversary of your trip to Neverland. I figured you and Hook had plans."
Her thoughts went from trepid confusion to a deep bottoming out. First, there was, you know, the idea that she would celebrate the day her son was taken. (Seriously, ask Killian-she still had nightmares that shook the fucking bed.) Second, there was the clear implication that this was the anniversary of…
Maybe I just needed reminding that I could.
The poor girl paled then reddened, hoisting Alexandria higher up her hip. "Oh my God, I am so sorry Emma. I just assumed...well I heard that Hook turned his boat around for you that day and figured that-well it's kinda a big gesture and-"
Ashley was fumbling but at that moment, so was Emma because she distinctively realized two things. A) This girl clearly believed that today is the anniversary of her and Killian's….relationship. B) Because Storybrooke was the size of a New York Deli, everyone knew everyone's damned business, so if Ashley thought it was her anniversary, the whole damn town thought the same. Including, perhaps, the man himself.
Oh Fuck. If Killian has been told by anyone in this town that he is supposed to have some big romantic gesture planned then he would have big, romantic gesture planned. He adored doing shit like that. Their first Valentine's Day, his entire face lit up once Sneezy explained the holiday to him. She didn't even have the heart to tell him that she really, really didn't like to celebrate it. Instead, she gritted her teeth and put on a dress, and waited for a painfully public date in pink with roses and candygram sonnets of adoration. Of course, instead, she received a painfully conscientious date that involved her favorite pizza mysteriously retrieved from NYC , her favorite merlot, a pack of cards, her rattiest pajamas folded up and netflix cued on an unknown laptop in his room in Granny's. His understanding of her reluctance for the public eye was even worse, causing her to tear up when she walked in. (Of course, he hadn't been able to resist stringing together filthy haikus with heart-shaped candies, but when he lived up to his word and ate her out until she lost count of orgasms, she hadn't truly minded.) Killian had understood her appreciation of the understanded so if he was planning anything for their supposed anniversary; she would never have suspected anything and he would have spent hours planning the damn thing. (Seriously, to this day he still wouldn't divulge what he had done to get her that pizza.)
Comparatively, she had spent all of five minutes coming to terms with the fact that this day may be considered the anniversary of their relationship.
She needed to get home. Now.
"Ah, nothing special, I gotta go." She heard herself mumble to Ashley before downing her coffee, taking off, and speeding the yellow bug back to her place by the docks.
Emma mentally braces herself for flowers and pancakes and whatever else lovelorn shit her parents had taught Hook about anniversaries. It suddenly occurs to her that part of her fear is that she has never had one as her previous lovers had either left her (in jail, or you know, died) before a year could pass. Hand faintly trembling, Emma opens her front door to-
Nothing. No billions of roses. No scent of romantic dinner. No sound of Springsteen.
Nothing.
"Hello?" Her voice echoes off the arches. Really, she had a house with fucking arches.
"Swan," She hears from downstairs. "I'll be right with you. Just cleaning Henry's soccer uniform."
Because of course. Her son had finally settled on a sport (baseball and basketball had been poor calls) and it's the only one Hook can play. Regina and her both suck at it (they had tried) but Killian took to it like a duck in-
A shaggy, dark head emerges from the basement door and two blue eyes greeted her. "You seem to be early love, what's the occasion?"
He's awesome at soccer. Awesome at remembering how she likes her eggs. Awesome at being in a real, adult relationship in general. (He's done it once, she kicks herself.) So, if Killian doesn't find today momentous, neither should she.
She actively tries to kick Ashley's words out of her brain, but the struggle must be visible on her face because he goes from happily befuddled to interrogative in less than a second. Brow pulled at her expression. "What is it Swan?"
The question blurts from her mouth before she can second-guess it. "When did we start dating?"
Clearly not expecting this inquiry, Hook gapes like a fish long enough for Emma to push through her thoughts as she settles at a kitchen stool.
Emma already wants to kick herself because she knows that once it's established, she'll be the one to forget the damn date. But Ashley's question had stirred something in her that Emma hadn't realized. She spent so long time fighting Hook, fighting besides Hook; that she can't quite pinpoint the moment it was all different. She had kissed him in Neverland, kissed him again at Granny's, but then pulled away the next time. Then suddenly, they were a 'we' and it had been like putting on her favourite sweater but the actual moment seemed elusive. In fact, she realizes with a prickling of her skin and an increased pressure at her temple, everything about their shared past seems a little hazy.
"I mean, I know we had a first date was, but I think I knew before then and couldn't admit it. Half the town apparently thinks it's Neverland which isn't true. And then there was the damn dagger and we kinda stopped dating then? But then you loved me and then you died. So you know, I don't know if we were together when I had to dive down and you weren't sure…"
The memory of his lack of confidence in the Underworld pulls a true frown on his face and Killian looks like he might protest until Emma continues. "...But then you were we had to still leave you. I had to leave you."
The memory of their brief departure wets her eyes and she watches as Killian scowls and advances, clearly bent on cutting her off. Emma knows that she has to finish this line of thought or she will fall to his coddling, never to utter the words again. They will never have a date for her to forget and while she doesn't even want one, it does seem like one of those things real adults in real adult relationships have. And that is what she wants, for the first time ever. So she wants the dates and the sureness of everything because most days, Emma is flying blind about how to proceed and only making it through because Killian is so goddamn patient with her.
"So like I said half the town thinks it's today and Ashley asked and at first I thought they were all crazy but-seriously Hook, who does that? You turned your ship around for practical strangers and apparently everyone in this town assumed it was because we were dating or something but I don't even know when we started or how long we've been going after everything and then I was in New York and we really can't count the time you were fucking dead," The harshly spoken words peeter out and Emma just stares at Hook, mere inches from her form and lips turned into a grimace. "When did it start?"
Green eyes search blue and Killian takes the final steps dividing them, embracing the woman he loves and rubbing his hand down her hair in a soothing movement.
"Oh, Swan," He murmurs to her ear. "Our first date, which I planned but you initiated, is about two weeks to the date and yes I loved you long before then." Dark eyebrows crested. "But I suspect this is not the nature of your inquiry."
He continues to search for the source of her unease and Emma feels her heart swelling for this man. "No, it's just...well we kinda broke up I turned you dark, didn't we?"
She watches his nose turn at her turn of phrase, and would probably have laughed it the subject matter were not so close to her vest. (They'd talked through it all but some days the scars of those days still burn, a phantom pain that passes the next day.) "Broke...Swan, did you entertain other men while we were possessed?"
The flexing of his grip on her forearms is the only thing that keeps her from laughing. "Did I...shit Killian, of course not." She responded with a tug of her own hands on his biceps. They are standing toe-to-toe, arms around each other. "It's just...well you said-"
That you did not love me.
He rests his temple against hers, cutting her stumbling insecurity off with a quick, dirty kiss. "Oh Swan, I've wanted you since we climbed that damn beanstalk, which was February 17th and probably fell in love with you the day we set sail for Neverland, which as the town is correct, is today's date. I knew I loved you the day of our first kiss, which was April 28th. I loved you the entire year we spent apart but you somehow managed to elude this dashing visage until May 5th, a fact a chalk up to the whole Zalena trying to take your brother plot. The date of our first date is, as I said before, nearly two weeks from now. I met a stunning blonde siren who bested me on February 16th," Hook breaks into a salacious grin at this. "But I believe our favorite date is three weeks away plus a day, if memory serves."
It takes her a moment but the eyebrow wriggle makes her realize that the idiot knows the date of the first time she'd followed him home to Granny's. And stayed. For hours. "Figured you'd remember that." Emma murmurs into his collarbone and he chuckled.
"Neverland skews your sense of time love," Killian confesses, kissing her temple. "Dates become unbearably important to hang onto but the procession of time slides away from you. But please never doubt that from meeting you, my life was altered. There isn't a day that goes by in which I don't love you, Swan. Memory loss or darkness or death notwithstanding. I loved you. I love you. In another century, I will still love you."
He touches his lips softly to her face as he speaks: her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids. "And I will happily recommit myself whenever you choose."
He never got this with Milah, this celebration of starts. He was only reminded by her retrieval into herself, her tears of losing her boy. He is nearly giddy with not only having this but Emma asking for it. Swan, who looked like she was headed to the executioner's block their first Valentine's Day. Swan, who scowled when her mother put Christmas decorations up in their home as a surprise. Swan, who shies away from discussing her own beginnings, wants clarification on theirs. He could kiss her.
He can kiss her, so he does.
He feels Emma roll her eyes against his cheek when he dips her and wants to find a way to bottle this moment, seal it forever.
"Really, Killian, when should we celebrate our anniversary?"
He has a woman who wants to celebrate time with him, and truly, what more could he ask for?
"You pick that one, Swan. But I plan to celebrate our first beanstalk, our first kiss, our first date, our first...dalliance."
"You want the town to know when we first fucked?"
Despite the ire in her tone, Hook knows he's pleased her by the light in her eyes and so he gives into impulse and does, in fact, spin her round his arms.
"Ruby Lucas is a terrible gossip with a wolf's nose, so I suspect they already know, my love." Despite the desire to see how far down her blush at that goes, the pirate continues. "But I will happily spend the rest of my life celebrating every first with you, town knowing or not." He winks.
They decide on their first date as an anniversary and Emma learns to expect a lot more random holidays, none of which are marked on her oversized, over-the-top calendar or idiosyncratic cultural norms. Instead, they consistent of a thousand tiny gestures.
Since he warned her about their first kiss anniversary, Emma returned home from the station that evening armed with a bag of chocolate she handed him as he laid out dinner. His brow lifted perplexingly at first (He had never developed a palette for sweetness) until he read the label on the bag and broke out into loud guffaws that made Emma feel as though she'd won the lottery. Dinner had been abandoned as Killian scooped her up, grinning like a moron, and proceeded to carry her, the Hershey's Kisses, a bottle of whipped cream, and strawberries all up to their bedroom. Where they remained the rest of the night.
Swan-springs-me-from-the-brig day was much more surprising. Especially, as a) She's the one who put him there and B) It's not Swan-drinks-mystical-memory-potion or Swan-remembers-my-handsome face. However, when they arrived back at the now-closed police station, he shut up her quips about bologna by simply leering-and swinging her handcuffs in his fingers. Wetness had gathered so fast between her thighs at his silent challenge that she was amazed they even managed to use the damned handcuffs.
The image of Hook's throat muscles pulling, long sinews straining against broken growls as she almost forces an orgasm on him with her mouth makes her so glad they did though. The picture is burnt into her eyelids.
At Swan's-first-gray-hair (October 9th and several years) she was fairly put-out and briefly vacillated between wanting to strangle him and go out and buy dye. Then the idiot proudly pointed out his three off-coloured strands; chattered on about Henry's college and how he's pretty sure little Liam is what is causing them and how wonderful it was to, "Have someone to grow old with and someone to worry gray over" all while cradling their sleeping toddler on his shoulder and using his free hand to massage her swollen feet. He was so damned thrilled and so damned perfect that Emma could only sigh quietly to herself and know that they will be celebrating her graying hair for years to come.
Swan-swims-to-hell-and-back was Killian's way of trying to bring levity to difficult art of their history. She still carried too much weight over how she left him, how he ended up there by her hand. While he considers the time spent with Hades certainly unpleasant, his memories are mostly of being an asshat to her and then learning that his brother was indeed fallible. And he certainly believed that he earned his spot there the day he tried to kill her family.
He would try to make light of their brief stint in the Underworld but he never initiated any anniversary for their time as Dark Ones. That is a wound that would never quite patch for him, the day he allowed someone to mark her family-his family-his son, for death for the sake of revenge. That's his nightmare that made the bed shake her awake.
Swan's however, was about the Underworld. He knew this, having woken in the dregs of morning to her silent tremors and tried to coax the poisonous memories out of her as dawn peaked.
I killed you. I left you. I let Milah die. I caused Robin to get killed. Fuck Killian, you were tortured-
Killian would do his best to press forgiveness in her skin with his lips and his lilting words but still she woke, trembling in the dead of night. So he celebrated the anniversary of her arrival to the Underworld.
She had cried that first year. Emma knew what he was doing, trying to help her heal by taking her out for a picnic on a tiny rowboat in the middle of a lake she studiously avoided. She had smiled wetly at his outrageous stories and dancing eyebrows until he removed his hook from its brace to make an especially dramatic embellishment. It caught the sunset just right so it gleaned red for a tick and Emma saw blood. And broke. Wide, ugly sobbing with copious amounts of snot and tears and full-body shakes that made Hook so distressed he nearly toppled them trying to get to her. He held her for hours until the darkness thickened and he only broke apart to row them to shore, keeping their knees touching at all times and shooting her concerned glances. Swan was just as listless and void-eyed at the shore, so he scooped her up and carried her home, never once letting go.
Years later, he would ask if it helped and she would nod that it did. Part of his heart ached at that because helping was not healed and while he knew she loved him and knew he loved her: knew how much good she had brought and how many she had protected, knew that she was happy and loved her life and her family; some part of her was always going to hurt at the memory of that place. Killian knew because it was the same part of him that hurt whenever he looked at Henry's daughter and thought about being a Dark One. And while silly anniversary could help, the truth was, that love could not cure all ails.
It just made it worth living with them.
All in all, however, Emma Swan never quite grew to appreciate the escalating number of banal holidays and anniversaries her parents revered, but she was quite fond of the quiet little ones her True Love created. Even as they increased with years.
("Killian, I swear to god that if there is a single mention of menopause at any point in time next year, that will be the last time you ever sleep with me."
"But Swan, this is the first day of the end of your cycle and we can now indulge in pleasurable pastimes with no concerns for any of your word's various contr-
"I fucking swear, Killian. If Leroy congratulates me on 'shutting down shop' I will never sleep with you again."
"Haha, understood love. Although I would think with all of those pesky moods removed that you might be a little less-"
"Never. Again."
"Understood, Swan.")
Truly, she thought of those silly dates with affection.
So much so that after they passed fighting one more villain, one last beast too fast for old knees; it was a simple measure. They checked on their children and Hook declared it Swan's-long-last-return-to-the Underworld. Emma rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and they both headed out to that great, white light.
Just another anniversary.