Title: The Rules of Friendship – A post-ep for Witch Hunt
Author: Liza Cameron
Note: This is a Hook/Emma post-ep for Witch Hunt. It picks up right where the episode left off with our heroes pow-wowing in the hall. It contains no spoilers.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; this is for fun and no money.
"I don't get it, it's not like we're in Kansas why would the Wicked Witch of the West want to come to Storybrooke?"
"I don't know, but we're not going to find the answer standing around staring at one another in this hall," Regina finally replied. "I'm going to continue working on the memory potion. I'm sure…" with a noncommittal air, she waved a hand at her four reluctant allies, "It will be necessary for us to see one another sooner rather than later." She turned to leave, but then suddenly stopped. She paused for a second and then looked at Emma. "But… uh…thank you, for today… for Henry."
Emma nodded at the other woman and with that, Regina turned and left.
Once Regina was gone, Mary Margaret said, "Henry and I were talking about making spaghetti for dinner. He said you two make it together all the time in New York." Mary Margaret turned to Hook. "Will you stay for dinner?"
Hook looked like he was about to disclaim, when David interrupted. "Of course he'll stay. We still have things to discuss."
Hook shrugged, but his lips tugged upwards. "It seems I'll stay. Thank you, milady." He nodded his head at Mary Margaret.
"Great." David rubbed his hands together. "I'm hungry and I can't think of a better way to put today out of my mind for a few minutes than to cook dinner with my grandson. Even if he only knows me as the husband of a convict."
"Rather than the father of a convict?" Emma asked pointedly, but not without humor.
"Touché." David winked at her before opening the door to the loft and ushering Mary Margaret in front of him.
"Whoa," Emma held up her hand as Hook started to follow them through the door. "Hold up."
He stopped and leaned back, surveying her as the door clicked shut behind her parents. He sighed wearily as his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. With resignation he said, "I know that tone."
"What tone?" She eyed him guardedly.
"The tone that tells me I'm in trouble. Go ahead," he made a sweeping gesture with his hook, "What's vexing you, luv?"
Emma was momentarily silenced. She hadn't expected him to take the wind out of her sails before she had a chance to confront him, but she regrouped quickly. "What's up with you?"
"With me? Nothing. Just spent the day with your father and Robin trying to ascertain the origin of these monkey attacks." He emphasized the word 'monkey' and looked at her pointedly. "Care to share any intimate knowledge of the beasts from your betrothal?"
"There you go again," she rejoined tersely. "Stop it."
"Stop what, luv?" He asked with feigned innocence.
"The monkey jokes, the fiancé quips. I was never actually engaged! Just stop."
He stared at her a moment longer and then bowed, as if acquiescing to her request.
She nodded once but her countenance was still marred by a scowl. "What's that about anyway?"
"What is what about?"
"The jokes. Why are you giving me a hard time? You don't think all of this is hard enough without you rubbing it in, trying to make me feel bad?"
"You just made a flying monkey joke yourself not five minutes ago," he replied with bewilderment.
"Yeah, I beat you to the punch. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?"
Finally he looked sheepish. His eyes left hers and he slung his thumb into his belt loop. Staring at the floor he said, "I'm not trying to make you feel bad…"
"Then what?" Emma asked incredulously.
His gaze once again found hers and he lifted his eyebrows at her in a very deliberate manner.
Emma's eyes went wide as realization finally dawned. "You're jealous."
He shrugged casually. "I'm not certain that's the word I'd use. However, I am certain that I don't want to hurt you, so I'll discontinue my raillery."
She studied him. She wasn't dense; she knew how he felt about her, but for some reason it always surprised her when she was given new evidence. As if part of her would never quite believe that someone felt about her the way he clearly did. "There's no reason to be jealous…"
"Oh really?" The careless façade he'd tried to create moments earlier was instantly gone. "I spent a year apart from you and I kept my promise. I thought of you every day. And all that time you were with someone else. If that's not ample cause for envy, then what is?"
"Hook, I didn't remember you. I didn't remember any of this." She flung her arms wide. "I was cursed! And even if I had… I… we didn't… it's not like we were together or had an understanding."
"Didn't we?" Now Hook looked her squarely in the eyes. "It felt like maybe we did. That that's what we were doing a year ago at the town line, coming to an understanding."
That moment felt like forever ago and like it was yesterday at the same time. It had been the single moment prior to the curse when she'd been afraid of breaking down completely. But she hadn't. Instead she'd said, 'good.' What had she meant by that?
When she didn't answer, he challenged, "I at least hoped it meant you weren't indifferent to me."
"Of course I wasn't indifferent to you. I've never been indifferent to you." Her voice was heated and she flung the words at him as if they were punches before she could think about what she was saying. She felt angry at him for forcing this conversation before she was ready; forcing it before she'd had time to catch her breath, completely forgetting that she was the one who started it in the first place. If it had been left to him they'd be inside helping put dinner on the table instead of in the hall defining their relationship.
"And now?"
"I'm still not indifferent to you, but right now I need…" Frustrated, Emma struggled to find the right words. She was frustrated with him. She was frustrated with the situation. And mostly she was frustrated with her lot in life, the lot that didn't allow her the time or the luxury of having understandings with people.
"What?" he asked, stepping closer to her, invading her space. He felt the buzz of hyperawareness he always felt when she was near. As if every sense was heightened. "What do you need, Emma?" His voice was soft and low, in sharp contrast to her pointed, angry tone from a moment ago.
Emma felt the air whoosh out of her and goose bumps prickle along her arms at his new proximity. Her anger waned. She met his eye and then let her gaze travel to his lips, her tongue involuntarily wetting her own. She felt a familiar pull of attraction. "I need you to be my friend."
"Your friend?" he asked, sounding surprised but not altogether displeased. As if he'd feared what she might need is his absence all together.
"Isn't that how you described yourself when you came to my door? An old friend."
"That I did," he agreed neutrally.
"So will you be my friend? Because I could really use one right now."
"Of course, it goes without saying," he said matter-of-factly and without hesitation.
"Good," she replied just as quickly and let her gaze drop from his. Relief flooded her chest. Without realizing it she'd done something all together unfamiliar to her. She'd put herself out there and she was now surprised to realize that she'd been scared of his response, fearful of rejection, even if all she was asking for was friendship.
For a long moment they stood there, neither moving, neither backing away. "So that's how you think of me? As a friend?" Hook finally murmured, trying to come to terms with this new twist in their relationship.
She felt the blood rushing through her veins. This conversation was so unexpected; it was almost an out-of-body experience for her. In her mind's eye she could see them, standing in the hall, so close that only inches separated their bodies, energy pulsing between them. She couldn't deny it, she was drawn to him. But she also couldn't do anything about it, not now. Her eyes once again met his and she was momentarily stunned by the intensity there. She swallowed hard before speaking. "You're probably the best friend I've ever had."
That took him entirely by surprise. "Really?"
"I've never had many friends. I've never made them easily. And I've certainly never known anyone who would do for me what you've done for me; so yes… since we're putting it in these terms, I'm pretty sure you're my best friend."
He scowled, but it was not in anger, his expression held more concentration, as if he was working out a puzzle. "I have to admit I wasn't expecting that."
"Well, what is a friend if not someone you trust and like being around and, well, if they're always there for you and willing to jump realms to save you… all the better."
He let that hang in the air for several seconds before cocking an eyebrow at her, "You like being around me?"
"That's what you picked up on from that?" she asked incredulously.
"It's the only part I wasn't sure was true."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "'Like' is a strong word, but… you're all right."
Involuntarily, he smiled at that. But when he spoke next, it was with absolute sincerity. "Swan, I will always stand as your friend. But what if that's not enough for me?"
At his tone, his expression and his words, she felt her chest constrict as if it was squeezing her heart. It killed her, but she couldn't do this. Not now. So she stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them. "It has to be."
He shut his eyes and turned from her, the pain of rejection crashing into him like a wave.
She watched him; it was almost as if some light inside of him had been extinguished in that moment. The power she had over him stunned her. With a few words she could devastate him. But she didn't want to devastate him. She wasn't sure what she wanted, or, more accurately, what she could have. But she knew this wasn't it.
So she murmured, "For now."
At that his eyes popped back open and he wheeled around to look at her.
What he saw in her face, in her expression, gave him hope. "For now?"
She gave him a small nod and his lips tugged upwards. They stood in the hall, staring at one another, a new understanding silently passing between them. For now. He could live with 'for now.'
Finally, she broke the spell and tore her eyes from his. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Come on, friend," she said as she tugged at his arm. "Let's go eat some spaghetti. Henry always overcooks the noodles; you're going to hate it. But as my friend you're going to have to pretend to love it."
He glanced sideway at her and cocked an eyebrow.
"Sorry, those are the rules."
"Rules? What kind of rules?" He stopped short of the door to the loft, his hand on the knob, and turned to face her before they entered.
"The rules of friendship." She said matter-of-factly.
"What other rules are there?"
"A lot. For instance if I move out of my apartment you're going to have to help carry boxes."
"Agreed." He nodded as if easily accepting the charge. "Particularly if that means removing your belongings from New York."
She ignored that. "And if I get arrested, you'll have to put up my bail money."
"My gold is your gold," he replied easily.
They were just joking, but it almost took her breath away how quickly he'd just offered up all his worldly wealth to her. She had a feeling he was serious. But she put it out of her head. For now.
"And if I'm flying, you'll have to give me a ride home from the airport."
"Does this airport of yours have a legitimate port, a seaport?"
"No."
"But I don't have a car, know how to drive or have any clear idea what an airport actually is."
"Sorry, I don't make the rules, but I have faith. You'll find a way to come get me. You always do."
And that brought a genuine smile to his face as he opened the door for her to enter the loft.
In order to eat some really bad spaghetti.
That he was determined to pretend to love.
Because those were the rules.
And he was going to follow the rules.
At least for now.
The End.