A/N: I don't know if I should be amused or insulted that so many thought I was really going to send Killian out on a boat alone with Snow White. I'll go with amused. Enjoy some Captain Swan, DaddyCharming and MamaSnow.
Please note that the very last section of the story borders a little inappropriate. I tried to make it as general as I could without naming body parts or too much dirty talk. However, when they start undressing – if that bothers you – skip it.
Granny's was a very popular location that Valentine's Day morning as many of the men from the auction met their "dates" there. Mary Margaret was not surprised to see a few of them who had not been as creative as others. Sliding in through the back entrance by the stairs to the bed and breakfast, the former teacher shot a glance to see if her daughter or grandson were still there.
"They left a few minutes ago," said the somewhat gruff voice of Granny. "I've got your order right here."
Mary Margaret slid her the money and accepted the foam container that was designed to keep the food at the right temperature. "She didn't say anything about this, did she?" she asked, lowering her tone when she saw some of the town's gossips sitting at the counter.
"No, not a word," Granny confirmed. "She was still trying to convince Henry that she was perfectly fine with you spending a day with the pirate."
Cracking a smile, she reached over and gave the older woman a quick hug. "Thank you for this," she said. "And for keeping quiet about my plans."
"It's hard to sneak one by on that girl," Granny said. "I wouldn't dare lie to her because she'd see through me in a second, but good news for you is that she didn't ask. That pirate was here and that kept her plenty occupied."
There was a moment of panic for the mother as she considered Granny's words. "He didn't tell her, did he?" she asked. "I talked to him last night after she left him and made him swear not to let on until everything was ready."
Granny shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she responded. "Emma told him she'd miss him today and to take good care of you."
A sigh of relief escaped from Mary Margaret's mouth. "You really are a life saver," she said. "Here and in the Enchanted Forest."
The older woman looked a bit embarrassed to accept the praise, looking over the thin wire rim frames she wore to study the woman who had once been a young girl in desperate need of her help. "All I did was make a special chicken dish," she said in her firm but kind voice. "That daughter of yours is a good woman. I'm glad she's finding her way and settling in around here. It's good for her and for us to have her kind of energy in this town."
Pride swelled in Mary Margaret as she thought of her daughter. "I wish I could take the credit for her turning out like she did, but I'm not responsible for it. She's just a good girl."
"You love and care about her," the woman said. "Doesn't matter when she learned that, she knows deep down now that she was always wanted and loved. Now get out of here and get your daughter off on her new date."
Mary Margaret hefted up the box and turned to go back to her car. "I'll be back in a few to get Neal," she said. "By the way…you're here today. When's the hot date with Doc?"
"Pfffttt…" she said as she wiped at an invisible spot on the counter. "I told that man I was too busy for anything today. We're going to go check out some of the competition in the dining business tomorrow."
"Sounds like a hot date," Mary Margaret teased. "I'll be in Monday for a report."
"At my age the best you can hope for is luke warm or tepid," Granny said. "Now go."
***AAA***
Emma felt like she had one of those brief glimpses into what life would have been like with her parents growing up as she watched her father cooking their date lunch. He had cranked up the stereo system that usually just gathered dust and was currently trying to sing along to some of the pop songs that were about five years out of date. She realized as he danced over to the sink, wiggling his hips to some insanely bad song that she had the corniest father on earth, which actually made her happy.
Every step he took had some purpose, she realized as he moved his way through the kitchen in a graceful and choreographed way. There were no wasted movements to it, each action was precise and calculated. It was such a stark contrast to her own actions that always seemed frenetic and based on the latest thought to come through her mind. It also reminded her a bit of Killian when he was going about some task that he enjoyed.
As he cooked, she questioned him, not in a hard or uncomfortable way. However, she gave him jumping off points so that he might discuss some of his past. She'd heard of her mother's time on the run, the early years with doting parents, the way she and Regina had met, and the subsequent aftermath. She'd witnessed her parents in the past, falling in love and becoming the people she knew now. But she realized she had no real stories of her father's beginnings.
He told her of the humble house where he grew up, the hard work, the loss of his father, and the way his mother encouraged and supported him in every turn. He told her of how scared and unsure he'd been to assume a higher role, how lost he felt without the familiar, and how he'd come to step into the leadership role not solely because of his love for his wife but because it was something inside of him that he had to do.
When the conversation became a little too much, she changed the subject and brought it back to the unorthodox date lunch he was preparing. Instead of some expensive cut of meat, some decadent creation, or some tangy concoction that could rival most restaurants, her father was making hot dogs and chili.
"If you'd had a hot date with some beautiful woman who spent a fortune on you, this is what you'd be making?" she asked as her father held out a small metal spoon for her to taste his creation. "Not very romantic."
Wagging his eyebrows up and down, he laughed and moved the spoon closer to her. "I'll have you know that my chili has been known to burn a hole in…
"Many a stomach lining?" Emma asked, sputtering. "That stuff is hot."
"Means it's almost ready," David declared. "And no, this would not have been the menu. But a father and daughter day deserves a fun treat. If you're a good girl and clean your plate, there may be ice cream for dessert." He laughed at himself as he reached on the shelf to pull down the hot dog buns. "I've always wanted to say that."
"Dork," Emma declared as she brought down two plates and dug in the refrigerator. "Beer okay because I have no idea what kind of wine would go with chili and hot dogs?"
"Sure," he said, bumping her hip with his as he asked if she wanted a little more spice in their lunch. She practically turned green.
"Who is taking calls today?" she asked. "I don't even have my phone on me."
"I've got the service on," he said, dishing out the chili over the hot dogs and grinning as she sprinkled shredded cheese over it. "The only one I'm really worried about is if your mother sends Hook overboard. But so far so good on that front."
David looked positively mischievous as he picked up her plate from where she had placed it on the table and carried it to the living room. "Your mother hates when I do this, but what she doesn't know won't hurt us," he said, plopping down on the floor between the couch and coffee table. "But I also have a proposition for you."
"And what would that be?" she asked, taking a bite out of her hotdog and a quick swig of her beer.
"I know we said a movie, but let's face it, you have seen every movie I've got on DVD. I'd hate for you to be bored or spoil the ending for me. So instead…" He reached under one of the throw pillows and emerged with a deck of cards. "We play a little game?"
Emma eyed the deck, her eyes wide in anticipation. "I'm liking the sound of that," she said. "But to be honest I'm a little short on cash at the moment after the auction and our 'generous donation.'"
He shuffled the deck, grinning thoughtfully. "Go Fish it is," he declared. Without waiting for her response, he dealt her a hand.
***AAA***
Mary Margaret's car pulled up to the docks just before 11, her dark hair blowing in that slight breeze that always seemed to blow near the water. Pulling her coat tighter, she waited until she saw him approaching, his dark form growing larger as he moved down the path from the roadway toward the buildings and boats that lined the harbor.
"Milady," he said with a smile. "Wonderful day for a sail, is it not?"
She slid out of the car and opened the cargo area. "I brought what you wanted," she said. "I had a hard time with some of the items, but I think everything is here."
"And you don't mind this?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow in question as she threw one of the larger bags over her shoulder. "You did pay for today."
"I paid for a trip with you on your new boat," she reminded him, indicating that he should carry the remaining items. "There were no rules about transfers."
Killian chuckled, leading her to the last of the slips and welcoming her aboard the sloop that he now called his own. "Do you think we have perhaps surprised her?" he asked as he carried the items down into the cabin area. "She is quite perceptive when given the opportunity."
Mary Margaret handed down another bag, shrugging her shoulders. "I hope so," she said. "Right now she's with David about to eat lunch and none the wiser that I'm about to interrupt them. She'll be here in about an hour. Granny prepared some food for your dinner tonight."
He smiled, nodding. "You seem to be enjoying your turn at deception this week," he accused teasingly. "It is enjoyable to watch when I'm not on the receiving end of it."
She shook her head. "You have an hour," she reminded him, sounding every bit the teacher instructing her class. "Use your time wisely." Placing her hands back in the pockets of her coat, she buried her face in its collar and hurried along the creaking planks toward her car. She could see him scurrying about the deck with his determination evident even from a distance. Smiling to herself, the backed her car out of the parking spot and headed back into town to pick up Neal.
She waited the allotted time and then called her husband's cell phone, trying to sound panicked as she complained of a flat tire and needing rescue. As promised before, he placed her on speaker phone and she knew that Emma could hear the desperation dripping from each word.
"Honey, I really need you to come here to the docks," she told him. "We haven't been able to change this tire for the spare."
"Of course," David said, sounding concerned. "I'll be right there."
Mary Margaret smiled to herself again as she sat in the car and looked in the rearview mirror at her son. "Your sister's going to kill us and then she's going to love us," she said in her best perky voice. "Just watch." A few moments later, she breathed a sigh of relief as Emma was the one leaving the loft and jumping in her car to head toward the docks. David had done his part.
***AAA***
"Killian?" Emma called as she proceeded from what had been an empty parking lot toward the sailing vessels that made their home there. "Killian?"
Stepping up from the cabin area, he watched her approaching with a look that was curiously hesitant as she spotted him. "I'm here, love," he told her. He stepped onto the worn wood with a gentle thud and gestured grandly. "Welcome."
"You are here and no sign of my mother or her car." She shook her head. "I don't believe you two," she laughed. "There was no flat tire, was there?"
"No," he confirmed. "That was a ruse by your mother to get you here."
"And my father convinced me that he had no idea how to change one," she added, folding her arms over her chest. "All to get me down here."
"It seemed fitting that you should be her first passenger," Killian explained, gently placing his hand under her elbow to lead her toward their transportation for the day. "Your mother agreed when we spoke last night. So she graciously stepped aside so that we might have the opportunity."
Emma looked at the sloop and shook her head again. "You could have just asked," she said. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble and so much trickery."
He grinned. "And you, love, could have bid on me yourself and avoided this all together," he reminded her. Watching her resolve fall, he could feel her lower her arms and her hand reach out for his. "And this is not my trickery. Your mother did not mean it as deception but as a gift to us."
"My gift is you?" Emma asked, skeptically studying him. "I'm not sure that's what I would ask my mother to give me."
"Perhaps you are my gift for some untold good deed in my past," he said. "I must have done something incredibly noble to get to spend today with a princess." Holding out his hand, he motioned for her to take it and come aboard the sleek vessel.
She stepped aboard gingerly, taking in the smooth woodwork and the shining instruments. "It's beautiful," she complimented. "I know you're proud."
"She's beautiful," he corrected. "And in need of a new name, as I'm not sure sailing under the identity of another is well-advised. Perhaps you might think of one as I'm getting us set."
There was a moment of hesitancy as she stepped back to let him work, her gut clenching. She was not a control freak by any means, but the idea of sitting back and watching him work was unsettling to her. His attention was focused on the headsail, its tension not quite what he wished for it. She approached him and placed her hand over his hooked arm. "Show me?" she asked, simply. Like she expected, he went to protest, but she would not let him. "If you want me to enjoy days like this with you, I need to learn."
He nodded curtly and placed the rope in her hands, closing his own over hers. With soft words, he guided her through the process and marveled at the smile she wore when he praised her. Soon they were slicing through the water, a gentle motion belying the actual speed and momentum. He made the final adjustments, allowing her to assist. Motioning for her to join him, he offered his hand to help her up to the platform where the helm was located.
"It's different," she said, holding her hair back with one hand. "I don't think I've been out on the water with you for pleasure."
"Aye," he said, running his hand along the more modern wheel. "I'm not so sure she's the right vessel for traversing the realms or rescue missions, but she's perfect for an afternoon sail."
She listened to the wind's biting sound as it brushed against them, shivering a bit. He was not looking at the haze of the land masses or the blue of the sky, keeping his eyes on her instead. "I'm not that interesting," she protested. "You should be soaking up all of this. We have weeks of winter left before we'll have another day like today."
He stepped to her side, his chest grazing her left arm as his hand reached to the back of her head and hauled her toward him, pressing his lips to hers in a hungry fashion. When he pulled back, she leaned forward, her mouth still seeking his. "I've been at home on the sea for hundreds of years," he told her. "Having you in my arms is more beguiling and enchanting than any of those experiences."
"Tall order to live up to," she said, challenge evident in her voice. "So we're out here, alone I might add. Do you have any plans for me? Or are we just being spontaneous?"
He leaned his forehead against her temple, his nose brushing the side of her face. "I thought we might anchor in a small inlet I found before and share a meal this evening," he told her. "I will warm our dinner, but first things first, are you cold? I don't wish for you to be uncomfortable here."
"Food is always good," she said giggling a bit, "so long as it isn't chili dogs."
The culinary concept was a new one to the pirate, but she put his mind at ease that she was not referring to anything inhumane or at all what he was thinking.
Unfolding a blanket that he had brought for her, she wrapped herself in it and watched the gentle rise and fall against the waves, a soothing sight compared to the turbulence she had seen before. "You know," she said, breaking the silence that had settled between them between stolen caresses and kisses. "Since we've been seeing each other you've learned a lot about me. You have seen some of the things from my childhood and teenage years. You've even read a few of my essays and seen paintings I did as a kid."
He looked a bit suspicious as to where the conversation was going. "Aye," he said. "You have been good to share those with me."
She shifted on the padded seat to face him rather than the view expanding in front of her. "I don't know as much about you," she said. "What I do know usually comes from you trying to make me feel better about something. So I want to know about you."
He chuckled at that, his eyes casting downward. "I suppose I haven't been completely open about such things," he said. "However, since you asked, I might be able to answer a question or two."
She grinned widely, pulling up her legs so that her chin rested at her knees. "Good," she said. "I want to hear something happy about when you were a child. I want to picture an adorable younger version of Killian Jones."
"What makes you so sure that I was that?" he asked. "I might have been horribly awkward and gangly until I reached my devilishly handsome status." He winked as she shook her head at him. "Very well. A happy story…"
***AAA***
Ruby looked at her grandmother critically as she fastened her coat and slipped on her gloves. "Gran," she said. "You must have made 1,000 pounds of chicken. What were you thinking? That's not even one of our best sellers."
The older woman hummed as she boxed up another order and placed it in the window to be handed over to the to-go customers. "It's special for today," Granny said with a smirk. "I saw the recipe on television when I sick a few weeks ago."
The kitchen smelled of spices and tomato sauce that had been poured over the braised chicken thighs. Saffron rice added to the delightful aromas that played about the woman's sensitive nose. "You were watching television?" Ruby asked, concerned that the older woman had picked up a new habit that she had been refusing for more than 28 years. "You really must have been sick."
The woman clicked her tongue at the top of her mouth and passed her granddaughter a container of the rice, chicken and marinated vegetables. "For you and that Dr. Whale," she said with a feigned smile. "I take it you think he's worthy of this."
"Of what?" Ruby asked, peeking into the container. "Why are you giving me food?"
"I told you it's special for today," the woman said, turning back to her busy stove. "It's a surefire recipe that will be on everyone's lips this year."
"Does it have a name?" Ruby asked, eyeing the stove doubtfully. Granny was a good cook and ran a great diner, but she wasn't much for experimenting in the kitchen. Her recipes were tried and tested, having been in her repertoire for years.
The widow looked vaguely amused as she poured more of the sauce into a pan of chicken. "Get Your Man Chicken," she said with a knowing look. "Woman on television said it worked like a charm for her."
"You know that couple's now divorced," Ruby said, leaning a hip against one of the prep tables.
"It's not called, 'Keep Your Man Chicken,'" Granny laughed. "It's to get him. What you do after that is your own problem. Now, get out of here with that before I decide to sell it to one of these other customers."
"Thank you, Granny," Ruby said, kissing her cheek. "If Victor doesn't have plans for dinner tonight, I'm sure we'll enjoy it."
"He called and ordered dinner for the two of you a while ago," she said. "I figured it would cheaper on the delivery charges if you took it yourself." She shook her head as the younger woman scampered from the kitchen. "Don't forget the dessert.
***AAA***
"You and my mother thought of everything," she commented as he delivered a decadent chocolate dessert to the table. "Even dessert."
"She's very thorough," he smiled. "And the Widow Lucas has a knack for delicious dishes."
Her fork sliced through the chocolate ganache and cake that appeared to practically melt at the touch. "That she does," Emma agreed. "She is right up there with some of the best restaurants in New York and Boston, even if she does rely on frozen food sometimes."
He chuckled lightly. "Thank you for spending this time with me," he said, looking remarkably sincere for a man with a bit of chocolate on her mouth. She couldn't resist the urge to wipe away the glaze and then lick it off her own fingers. His eyes went from sincere gratitude to a dark and brazen color as she did.
"Sorry," she said. "I hate a mess."
"What I was saying was that I have enjoyed our time alone today," he continued, his voice a little strained as she looked at him in the same manner that she looked at the dessert. "I suppose we should head back now, return you home safely before it gets too late."
Emma did not agree or disagree, finishing the dessert with him and helping to clean up the tight area. She looked at the storage cabinets and ran her finger along the doors.
"You seem to have stocked up," she said softly. "Maybe you should give me a tour before we think about going back."
"There isn't much to see," he admitted, leaning upon his hand that braced itself next to the instrument panel. "She does not even have quarters for crew."
"But you could sleep here if you wanted?" she asked. "Where?"
He pushed himself toward the narrow passage to the larger of two cabins. "I had a bed installed just the other day," he said. "I hoped that perhaps in warmer weather I might spend some nights here rather than at Granny's." The room was tight, barely room to walk on either side of the bed and with two grown adults it was even tighter.
"If we didn't go back, could we stay right here?"
He blinked in rapid succession, watching her in the dim light of the room. "Here?" He practically stumbled. "Your family is expecting you back home. I don't think your mother intended for you to stay here with me when she decided to…"
"I was just thinking that it seems a shame to go back when it is so pleasant out here," she said. "And we found such a nice spot here that I think would look beautiful at sunrise. I've never seen sunrise from the water before."
She was not sure if it was the impact of what she was saying or if he actually felt his legs weaken, but he backed himself onto the bed clumsily. She tried not to look too amused "Not much room in here," she said, coming closer and staring at the cabin area. "We'd have to sleep close together."
"This wasn't my intention," he said looking to her with a pleading expression and tone. He seemed desperate that she understand he was not intending to seduce her or pressure her in any way. "I just wished to spend time alone with you and enjoy your company on the water today."
Emma sighed heavily and nodded. There was a moment of silence as Killian sat on the edge of his bed smiling innocently at her. Emma walked towards him slowly and placed her hands on the back of his neck. She leaned forward and forcefully planted her lips on his, kissing him deep and passionately. Killian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, deepening their kiss.
She broke away from him and pulled her hair back so it was out of her way. She smiled seductively at him and leaned forward again, planting a soft trail of kisses on his neck, moving her way up until she was once again positioned with her face in front of his.
Killian was clearly enjoying this, but he looked at her suspiciously. "What exactly are you trying to do?"
Emma pouted playfully as she replied. "Just trying to see if this room was comfortable."
She tilted her head and grinned at him, knowing that she was playing the seduction act to the hilt. Killian shook his head and stammered out an answer. "I am very comfortable," he affirmed.
Emma nodded and winked at him. She moved lower and planted a kiss on his chest where his top button was unbuttoned. She used her fingers to undo the first button, planting another kiss after another piece of his chest was exposed to her. She repeated the procedure for each button, making a line of kisses down his chest. Killian's breathing became shallower and more labored as she moved further down, and Emma knew he was trying to show restraint as she continued her assault.
She undid the last button on his dark shirt and she placed her lips on his waistline right above the button in his pants, this time letting her tongue gently flick his warm skin. Killian let out a soft moan of pleasure, and Emma had to suppress her urge to giggle, knowing that she was gradually weakening his defenses, and bringing him under her power.
Emma pulled the bottom of his shirt out of his pants and opened it wider, exposing his bare chest to her. She ran her hands over his skin slowly, enjoying its warmth and smoothness, and the well-defined muscles that were underneath. Emma leaned again, capturing Killian's mouth with her own as she gently scratched her nails over his chest and stomach. She kept the kiss going as she pulled his shirt off of his shoulders and arms, tossing it to the floor beside the bed.
Emma moved her hands to his back, stroking her fingertips from the base of his spine to the base of his neck as they kissed. She pressed herself closer to him, allowing her breasts to press up against his chest. Emma moaned softly as she felt the fire from his skin through her clothing. She was having fun, true, but she wanted more. She craved his touch, and the feel of his skin on hers. She had previously imagined what it might be like in dreams she had on cold lonely nights alone in her room.
She broke off their kiss and smiled sexily at him. At least she tried to make it sexy, but feared it would come off as silly. However, she must have done something right because Killian responded with raised eyebrows and a grin of his own. Emma took a deep breath in before she made her next move, but she was not afraid of what she wanted to do, only nervous that he would turn her away with some logic about how they should wait or how she had other responsibilities that took priority.
She pulled the hem of her sweater up over her head. It dropped all the way to the floor on its own, Killian's eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly.
"Emma..."
"Killian, shhhh... Don't talk."
"It's just... You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. You are bloody amazing."
Emma smiled sweetly at him and kicked her sweater aside, slipping out of her shoes as well. Without breaking eye contact, she lowered her jeans, divesting herself of the material before she could find an excuse to stop. She moved close to him again and grabbed his hand, laying it on her bare stomach. Just the feel of his hand on her skin was enough to send a shock like lightning through her body. "Don't tell me what you feel, Killian. Show me, show me what you're feeling."
Killian nodded slightly, unable to form any words at all. He breathed in and moved his hand towards the base of her spine, pulling her close to him. She moved closer and straddled his closed legs so that she could rest on his lap. Killian looked up at her and kissed her passionately; letting his hand roam freely over her skin. His other arm held her in place, the, while his hand rubbed lazy circles on her stomach. Emma craved more, so she deepened the kiss and pressed herself closer to him.
As his neck craned back and he broke off their kiss to bring in oxygen that they both desperately needed, he captured her gaze. "Emma, I don't want…"
"I swear if you overanalyze this I might just scream," she laughed, unbelieving that she was laughing at such a moment. "Killian, we've been moving toward this moment for so long now. I know this is what I want and I know you…"
"I didn't claim not to want you, love," he said. "I just don't want you to regret…"
"Nothing to regret," she said. "I regret things, but not this." She waved a hand between them. "Not us."
"I love you, Emma," he said as she moved both hands to his face and held his head in place to look directly at him. "If you change your mind…"
"I have already given you more of myself than I ever thought it was possible to give," she said, pulling back so that she could push the now unbuttoned shirt from his chest. He gasped at her forwardness as she unfastened his pants and pulled him up to separate him from those as well. They both laughed as she realized she had forgotten his boots. "We need to get you more casual clothing." She pushed back on the bed, following alongside and enjoying the look of both surprise and utter adoration on his face.
As they removed the last bits of fabric from each other, she felt herself mouthing the words that she wanted to say. First against his skin, his mouth and finally she let the three words slide out with a breath of air. "I love you."
The reaction from him was immediate and their mouths fused together, hands again searching and exploring what had been hidden and untouched. Her hand over his torso, admiring every perfect nook and cranny that his body revealed to her. He leaned forward and gave her a short, but deep kiss on the lips. Their movements mimicked each other, both following the other as they moved toward the inevitable conclusion. They held on to each other tightly, moving together, and exploring every inch of each other's bodies as time felt it had stopped. What they felt between them went well beyond what only a few words could have explained, their hearts beating in rhythm with each other and their two souls entwining, merging to become one.
A/N: Get Your Man Chicken is a real thing and you can look up the recipe by Gina Neely on the Food Network website. I have made it and while I already had a husband, I'll tell you that he loved it and was very appreciative.
