This is my very first CS fanfic, and I would like to thank my awesome beta entourage from : Poetgirl925, tumblr: below-the-starry-clusters-bright, captainswanfloor, and tiger-lilyinneverland, and my dear friend: Sarah. You have helped me in your own special ways in making this story as polished as it could be. THANK YOU!
I appreciate any and all constructive feedback :)
Now, on with the story...
(un)Welcomed Distractions
They had been trapped on the ship for what seemed like centuries. In reality, it had been one week, five hours, and 38 minutes, but Emma wasn't counting. Even though Storybrooke's thread of time ran differently than Neverland's, Emma thanked her stars that she had been wearing a wristwatch to remind her that there was a world to go back to. Currently, the smattering of stars piercing the raven sky indicated it was nighttime. The combination of her present company of her same-aged parents, two presently-reformed villains, and a pirate appeared to be a tale spun from a hallucination. Alas, to her, it was a reality that became weirder and weirder by the second.
When they surfaced from the whirring portal, they were left with the foreboding and unnervingly vast sea around them. It remained a midnight blue regardless of the time of day in this enigmatic realm. The water did not seem to ripple by any law of physics known to man. Some areas of the sea churned and remained turbulent, spitting up sea foam, while others were eerily still.
Although Emma felt engulfed in the vortex of the portal, this strange sea seemed to suffocate her with its mere presence. She could not quite pin the feeling on anything in particular. It was omniscient and sadistic, almost enticing her to jump in and never surface to the top again. The fact that the thought came to her mind literally sent shivers throughout her body.
She recoiled from the urge and clenched her eyelids shut, releasing her hands from the ledge in attempts to enter back to reality. Pull your shit together, Swan. Your son needs you. The self-pep talk didn't last too long as she backed into a tall, dark and leather-clad pirate.
"Whoa, easy there, lass." He barely said it above a whisper. He instinctively put his hand and hook on her shoulders to stop her, which caused her head to turn around and glare at his dark blue eyes.
"I'm fine, just a little cold," she said in a noncommittal tone.
She shrugged him away and leaned against the side of the ship again in order to challenge her urges, ensuring herself she wasn't imagining things. She half-heartedly believed that she could handle it. He pursed his lips tightly and defiantly leaned over next to her, close enough to cause Emma to flinch for a microsecond, which would have gone unnoticed to anyone but Hook.
"The sea was beckoning you, wasn't it?" He asked, still staring at the sea.
Her mouth slightly slacked open; shocked that he could consistently read her so well.
"It was the mesmerized look in those beautiful eyes of yours that said it all, my dear."
His tone was genuine even with the slight flirting laced in it, and it rattled her a bit. She stiffened her back and rolled her eyes to cloak what nameless pang was kneading in the pit of her stomach. Emma was not going to let him get to her. She clearly had other more pressing matters to worry about.
"Fine. Yes, I was um…hypnotized." The word left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth because it meant relinquishing her sanity and sense of control.
"It's quite normal, I assure you. Neverland's seas are just as alluring as the land. But do me one favor and don't gaze into the waters too long, lass. The mermaids can sense your loneliness and pull you in." His eyes softened as he directed his eyes at her.
Despite having both her parents on this rescue mission, the loss of Neal and Henry in one day was too much to bear. She had promised herself that she would not crumble, not yet, but it seemed like the sea and Hook brought the grief to the surface. Emma felt burning tears welling up, but she managed to hold them back. She masked her vulnerability with a steely glare at him.
"Speaking of land, when are we actually going to stand on it? We can't afford to lose any more time with those jerkoffs Greg and Tamara hanging onto Henry. That is, if he is still even with them," she said, as her voice trailed off.
She lowered her head in defeat, not sure what circumstance Henry would be in once they hit the shoreline.
"By my calculations, a day's worth of sailing…Emma, why don't you get some rest?"
She bit her lip, realizing he said her first name, which made her uncomfortable. He tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder, and let out a small breath of relief when she didn't back away from it.
"Yeah, honey, why don't you rest? It's been a long day and I'm heading there myself," Mary Margaret's voice interrupted their exchange, verbal or otherwise. She walked toward them with a blanket wrapped around herself. Hook immediately dropped his hand from Emma's shoulder and faced Snow.
"Your Majesty," he said curtly and slightly bowed his head, gesturing his hook out.
"Hook," she responded with a subtle smirk.
He secretly cursed the mother for interrupting the time he could have spent touching her, even if it was just her shoulder.
Mary Margaret shred her blanket and offered it to Emma. Her daughter almost let out a groan that turned into a whine as she motioned the gesture way.
"As great as that sounds right now, I am going crazy doing nothing for the past week. Don't wait up on me. I'll come down to the bunks, just not now." Snow furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and disappointment. "But thanks, Mom." Snow smiled and lightly cupped Emma's cheek with her hand. She surreptitiously darted her eyes between Hook and Emma before she climbed down below deck.
Emma turned to face a mischievous and childish expression on Hook's face. "What?" Emma asked, afraid of what was brewing in his ever-scheming noggin.
"Well, darling, since you have grown tired of doing nothing, I do have a task for you, but it requires shall I say, a certain finesse." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
"Are you serious? Is that the only thing that's ever on your mind?" She crossed her arms in disdain.
"Oh Swan, you scathe me," he put his hand to his chest. "I merely meant I needed an extra hand to help me with a modern world contraption…I heard David call it a ra-zor?"
Emma scoffed and clicked her tongue. "You've got to be kidding me. Couldn't you ask David to help you shave?"
"Where's the fun in that? Besides, do you really trust your father with a metal blade to my face? After all, this visage has charmed its way through many a damsel's heart and I wouldn't want to be a," he leaned in closer to Emma, a breath away, "disservice to future prospects." She could feel the heat of his breath on her face but did not move. He is just too much. Hold your ground, Emma. Get it together! He waited for a response, very much keeping his orbs locked on hers.
"Ugh. I'm only doing this because I have nothing else to do. Now show me the razor before I change my mind."
She pushed against his chest to create some distance. He grinned at her, deciding to hold back a clever retort he had at the tip of his tongue.
"After you, m'lady." Hook gestured her toward the stairs.
"Well, where are we going?"
"My cabin, of course."
The idea of visiting his cabin for the first time gave her goose bumps on the back of her neck and arms, and she was not sure why. Maybe it had to do with being in a place so personal to someone, but she didn't want to think about it too deeply. Emma put her hands on her hips, quickly surveying the room. She told herself that it was out of force of habit as a bounty hunter. The room was dimly lit, a yellow glow reflecting off the red velvet drapery that framed the window at the far end of his room. Adjacent to the window was a basin that had a small vanity framed with Victorian golden décor. Although the cabin space was modest, there was an extravagance done with taste. The mahogany desk was flanked with candles at each end, and an ancient world map sat encased in a glass frame that took up most of the table's space. An intricate, silk Persian rug sat at the foot of his queen-sized bed. She laughed in her head at the thought of Hook sleeping on a queen's bed. Too fitting. Clearly the man had collected many items from all over the world. He's a pirate to a fault.
"Like my room, darling? We can definitely find other ways to enjoy the space if you'd like." He winked at her and gently tapped his hook at the small of her back.
Emma could have sworn that he lowered his voice an octave as he spoke to the back of her ear. She felt her ear prick and her hair rustle from his breath.
"Oh shove it, Hook…and don't even comment on that. Let's just get this over with," she scoffed, and kept her back to him. She wasn't sure how many more drafts of his breath her hair or her face could take.
"As you wish, love. The basin is over there, as I am sure you deduced with your keen observational senses."
The realization just hit her like a thunderbolt. She was removing all of his facial hair. With a simple razor and her mediocre shaving skills, there was no other way.
"Wait a second. You do know that with this type of razor I'll have to give you a clean shave? As in, smooth-as-a-baby's-butt-kind-of shave?"
Hook arched an eyebrow in bemusement. "Hmm. Peculiar phrasing, but I see what you mean. Quite a quandary." He scratched his chin. "All right, on with it. There is no one else I'd trust to do the job right." He proceeded to grab the razor, admiring its craftsmanship and how light it felt compared to the bare metal blades he was accustomed to using sparingly. He had grown quite attached to his scruff and rubbed it with his hand as a way of bidding it farewell one last time.
"How can you be so sure? If you couldn't tell, I'm a girl, and girls don't shave their faces. Again, you sure you don't want David to do it since he, I don't know, has shaved his face a billion times? I'm sure I can convince him not to decapitate you."
Before Emma could think, he grabbed her arm with his hook and placed the razor in her hand.
"Come on, love. I promise I won't bite, not unless you want me to."
Emma let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. It's your funeral."
"Something tells me you'll be good at this."
Emma swallowed back a lump forming in her throat. Memories of shaving Neal's face were pervading her mind, clear as day. He would let her shave his face for the fun of it when they did not have enough money to go out on dates. Her eyes darkened considerably from a hazel to an emerald green.
Hook gently lifted her chin with his hand. "Hey, love. I was just joking. I'm sorry if it hit a nerve."
She mustered a weak smile. "No, I'm good. Let's do this." She grabbed the shaving cream from Hook and shook it vigorously. He eyed her with curiosity.
"Maybe I should call on your father." She swatted him on the shoulder.
"Hold your hand out so I can pour it out. You're gonna lather it on your face."
Hook gave her an incredulous look. "I'm not daft, Swan. I know that much." He might have seen her give a half-cocked smile, albeit, a grim one, but it was there.
He quickly slathered the shaving cream on his face while Emma braced herself and tried to figure out where to start.
"All right, love. I'm ready when you are, and don't be gentle. I like it a little-" Emma grabbed the back of his hair and yanked his head back. "Ow! Bloody hell, Swan!"
"Now hold steady. You don't want me nicking that pretty neck or visage of yours."
"Ah, so you do find me pretty." Hook grinned and stared down at her, despite how difficult it was with his head tilted back.
"Your words, not mine."
"No, actually. I never said pretty." Emma's cheeks slightly reddened and Hook chuckled at how flustered she was.
"You implied it, and stop talking, will you? I'm trying to shave here." Emma crinkled her nose in concentration and Hook couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked with that expression. She made her first shave and luckily, no blood. Emma loosened her shoulders and exhaled.
"Uh, love, I know you said 'stop talking' but I'd like the back of my head back, please." Emma felt her cheeks warm again. She decided to rest her free hand on his shoulder.
She continued to gingerly shave his neck with no hitches, surprisingly. She was quite impressed with herself. Yet, what made the process painstaking was how he continued to penetrate her with his blue-eyed stare. She tried to focus on the task, but it remained a challenge with how close she was to him.
"Okay, you can put your head back down. Now for your visage." She smiled more easily this time.
Hook leaned in to look in the mirror at Emma's handiwork and grazed her cheek which left some shaving cream behind.
"Watch it!" She reached to wipe it off, but Hook slowly dragged it away with his finger. She was not numb to the hot trail that his finger left on her face. It must be the shaving cream.
"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't clean up after myself?" He winked at her for the millionth time and started humming a tune.
She rolled her eyes yet again. That action quickly became her default response when she was too fed up to combat his advances. She started to shave his face, being more careful than before, and Hook kept humming. He wore a vacant stare even though his glance was still directed at her.
"What are you humming?" She asked. He snapped out of his haze and focused on the mirror.
"A sailor's tune."
He began to sing softly:
"I looked out of my window in the sweet new morning,
And there I saw three barges of manifold adorning
Went sailing toward the East:
The first had sails like fire,
The next like glittering wire,
But sackcloth were the sails of the least;
And all the crews made music, and two had spread a feast."
(Poem by Christina Rossetti, from A Ballad of Boding)
He surprised her by having a sweet, soft voice and it gave her chills, which was something she would never admit to out loud.
"That's beautiful."
"Aye." He still stared at the mirror, as if he could see beyond his reflection: a glimpse of his past, and his crew, his family.
"I'm sorry. It must be frustrating having such a rag-tag team as your crew now. I can't imagine how impossible it must be for you to be on the same ship as Gold. Thank you for doing that for my son."
"Don't thank me just yet, love. We still have to find him and when we do, the reunion will be thank you enough."
Emma tilted her head to the side to decipher if he was lying and hoped he was because she grew accustomed to a snarky and unapologetic Hook. A serious Hook was above her pay grade. She did not know how to react to a serious Hook. Damn it, he's telling the truth.
"If there is a reunion to be thankful for," Emma remarked.
"Hey, hey. I want none of that, you hear? We have yet to land, and those Neverland buggers have me to contend with. Plus, little do they know that I have an equally dangerous, wonderfully brilliant, tough lass with me that doesn't take no for an answer."
He tucked a loose strand behind her ear and gently smiled at her. Her eyes flittered out of their own will. Hook gave her a look of longing and yearning, still trailing his fingers slowly down the length of her hair. He did not want to let go of how soft her tresses felt in his hand. She felt herself submerging into dangerous territory with him and damn it, she was not going have Hook, of all people, chink away at her armor she spent all these years welding and perfecting. Emma inhaled forcefully and shook her head out of her trance.
"Enough of this pity party. Let's finish what we started," she said.
Hook had a hurtful glint to his eyes but said nothing and let her finish. He didn't want to push her away farther than he could reach. She was a wild stallion that was graceful and beautiful, but wished to stay that way from a distance. Spook her, and she would slip through his hands, forever unattainable.
"All right, I think I'm done." Emma examined his face to ensure there weren't any stray hairs left. Even with the newly clean face, he still carried a distinct ruggedness, ever the pirate in every fiber of his being. And, just as dashing as he was before too, but objectively speaking, of course. It was an observation, a fact.
He leaned forward to look at her handiwork in the mirror, but she stopped him. "Wait! I gotta check your sideburns." She grabbed his chin and turned his face left, then right, making sure they were even.
Much to her chagrin, she was in a compromising position with her head tilted and his lips an inch away. Hook licked his lips as he stared down at hers, instinctively putting his hand on her hip. If possible, the heat of want and desire in his eyes could have burned right through her. Emma blinked back, frozen. Her body felt a cosmic pull toward his, utterly disregarding her mental discomfort. She grabbed his upper arm and closed her eyes as she leaned in.
"Hey! Has anyone seen my shaving cream and razor?" David yelled in the corridors.
Emma jolted back and released her grip. Hook groaned as he rolled his eyes at the door. Her parents sure had a way of interrupting at just the right moment, as if they had convened at an earlier date and mapped this plan out. Emma rushed toward the door and halted as she held the doorknob, pivoting to the man she just nearly kissed.
"Wait, you never asked David for the razor, did you? You stole his things? That's why you didn't want him to teach you how to shave."
"Pirate, darling. And who says that's the reason? Maybe I wanted you here all along." He plastered that signature smirk across his face.
"Damn it, Hook!" David screamed and pounded on the door. Emma had a feeling that if she did not open it soon enough, he would kick the door off its hinges.
"Hook, if you don't open- Emma?" David saw her sheepish look as she opened the door.
"Yeah, we have it, but I don't think you want that spare razor anymore," she said.
David stared at her in a mix of disbelief and shock. "And why wouldn't I want it back?" He crossed his arms, and Hook stayed in the background, admiring how stupefied David appeared. David looked up at him, and his mouth widened. "Oh. And why would you get my daughter involved in this?" He stood tall, arms still crossed, staring down Hook.
"Oh, there are plenty of reasons, really," he said while eyeing Emma the entire time. He was disrobing her with his eyes, those powerful eyes, and she felt a wave of electricity from her spine down to her heels.
David charged toward Hook in purposeful stomps and grabbed him by the collar. The pirate was forced to steal his glance away from the blonde beauty and look at the currently irate prince in front of him.
"Listen, mate. If you so much as a lay a hand on my daughter's head, you won't have one pretty soon. Am I clear?"
Emma stifled a snicker, as she thought about the off-handed decapitation remark she made earlier. She grabbed David's shoulder and tried to calm him down.
"All right, Dad. As cute as this protective dad bit is, I can take care of myself. He needed help, and I helped," she shrugged. "End of story."
He softened his expression when he looked back at Emma. He was not sure what bothered him more: the fact that Hook was shamelessly ogling his baby girl or that she was not objecting to his behavior. Emma gave her father a pleading look, which only made his resolve falter into a puddle of nonexistence.
"All right. But don't be up too long. Your mother and I are worried that you won't get enough sleep before we land."
He kissed her forehead and gave her a bear hug. Emma inhaled her father's jacket that smelled of leather and of what was distinctively David. She felt she would never get sick of his affection toward her. In fact, she was waiting in hope for the next time he would be fatherly again.
David turned around again and pointed a finger at Hook, who still wore an amused look on his face. "And you. Don't think I'm taking my eyes off of you for a second." Hook tilted his head back slightly and arched an eyebrow.
"Interesting choice of words, mate, but you needn't worry. As she said, this gorgeous woman can take care of herself quite well," he replied.
He gave yet another, 1000-watt-powered smile. Damn, does he have those in bulk supply? Emma blushed and nervously put her hands in her back pockets, looking at the floor as if she could answer all of life's questions from the abstract geometric designs on the red Persian rug.
"She will because she has me to back her up," David snapped. He patted Emma on the shoulder and closed the door behind him.
"Well, that was entertaining," Hook remarked. "Now, where were we?" He crept closer to Emma, who was still firmly planted by the rug.
She had her second realization for the night and whipped her head up. "You planned this. Why?"
Hook raised his eyebrows at her. "Quite perceptive, Swan. And all from the mystery of my rug, it seems. Impressive."
"Shut up. Seriously, why?" She daringly stepped closer to him, nearly toe to toe.
"Maybe because you needed a chance to let your hair down and forget about your troubles, darling. Though, I much prefer other methods of relieving str-" Before he could finish, Emma tightly embraced him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her head rested easily on his chest. It did not take much pause for Hook to reciprocate her hug, stroking the back of her head with his hand. She felt so right on his chest that he regretted that she had not held him until now. Emma hazarded an upward glance at him.
"Thanks, Hook."
"You're welcome, Emma. We understand each other, remember?" He rubbed his thumb against her cheek. Her eyes widened as she released her grip and stepped back.
Hook had a saddened smile that could have rivaled a four-year-old's who lost his favorite stuffed animal. "What, no goodnight kiss? I believe we were well on our way before your father stampeded in."
"In your dreams, buddy." Even though she said it tersely, there might have been a crooked smile as she looked away and closed the door.
Hook rubbed his now-silky smooth face. "Indeed, lass. Indeed. But don't worry, love, it will be a reality sooner than you think."