Author's Note: I'm eager to get these two back to the Enchanted Forest to start the B-Side of this story, but they are taking their sweet time in getting off the island... At least one more Neverland chapter to go before the title of this darn thing makes any sense... =)
Reviews make my muse happy! Knowing people want more is great motivation!
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Emma and Hook made quick goodbyes with Tinkerbell, who was staying at the tree house for a while longer before heading out on her own.
"After you, lass," Hook said, gesturing for Emma to cross the first bridge before him.
Tinkerbell caught Emma's eyes and mouthed the word, "remember."
Emma frowned at that and turned away, beginning the long descent to the ground.
At the bottom, Emma found that the heavy downpour from the night before had turned the earth to mud. Low places were still pooled with collected rain water.
"How much will this slow us?" Emma asked as she yanked her left boot up from where the mud had sucked it down.
"Not much if we can keep high ground," he said, offering her his hand to get past another muddy section. "We can follow the ridge most of the way to the Hollow."
He was right. Once they got to the rocky outcropping that ran through the jungle, they were able to stay on or near the rocks and out of the mud. It required climbing in several spots, and Emma and Hook ended up helping each other over obstacles frequently. That meant that they were touching each other frequently, and Emma wasn't sure how she felt about that.
As a princess, she'd been taught to keep a physical distance from non-family members. Even at balls and events, she always sat apart, with her parents. She had been allowed some leeway with Neal, since he was basically family, though they had been kept increasingly apart as they matured.
On Neverland, touch hadn't been a pleasant thing. For five years, the only time anyone had laid a hand on Emma, it had been with harmful intent. The only embraces she'd known were that of the shadow when it impersonated her loved ones (and it had taken her a long time to realize the trick) and of Felix, whose intentions had been clear.
But now she was exchanging casual touches with Hook, and it felt so good.
Emma assumed it was because she'd never really experienced that kind of thing before. She'd been helped in and out of carriages and over puddles by guards, but she'd never really known them, spoken to them. They'd been doing their duty. But as she took Hook's arm and he lifted her over a gravelly section of the ridge, she felt warm and content. When she grabbed the lapel of his coat to steady herself, she felt her cheeks go pink and her pulse speed up.
She found herself touching his shoulder when her balance faltered instead of the nearby rock. His hand or arm was always waiting for her when there was a rough bit of terrain for them to cross. In places where she scrambled ahead of him, to test a precarious-looking wash with her lighter weight or to scout a higher ledge for the best way forward, she found herself offering him her hand, even though he probably didn't need it. He took it every time it was offered.
They hiked this way, without conversation, for over an hour.
All of a sudden, Emma realized that neither of them had let go of each other after crossing a little stream. They'd been holding hands for several minutes, even though the footing beyond the stream had been sure.
Emma stopped in shock, turning to look at the dashing pirate.
"Swan, what's wrong?" he said, his eyes searching her face as his brow crinkled with concern. His thumb brushed back and forth across the back of her hand as his fingers squeezed hers.
She pulled her hand away, and he let it go immediately, his gaze going to his own hand.
"Nothing," she said quickly, turning to continue ahead on her own. She needed to clear her head. She shouldn't want to hold a pirate's hand—especially not this pirate. He was Captain Hook. He'd killed Lost Boys, according to what she'd heard in their camp. He was a thief and a liar and a cheat… And a gentleman.
She looked back.
He was standing where she'd left him, his eyes still on his own hand as he flexed his fingers. He looked puzzled. Did their easy physicality confuse him, too? She didn't see why it would. Surely he was used to touching women.
"Tired already?" she called to him teasingly, wanting to defuse whatever troubled thoughts he was having.
His head snapped up and his eyes were wide and startled for a moment before he melted back into his usual cocky swagger and smirk.
"Not hardly, darling," he lilted seductively as he came towards her. "I have excellent stamina."
"I'm not seeing it," Emma said with a sarcastic little smirk.
"I'm more than happy to give you a demonstration, love."
"Demonstrate by getting us to the Hollow," she said.
He grinned at that, catching up to her and brushing past her, the back of his hand sliding along hers for a moment. She almost caught his fingers with hers, but she stopped herself.
He continued several paces ahead of her before turning around to cock his head at her.
"Do try to keep up," he teased.
Emma snorted and resumed her hike.
They both seemed more conscious of their touching after that. Neither Emma nor Hook hesitated to offer his or her hand when the other needed it, but they didn't maintain the contact afterwards.
Emma still didn't know what to make of it.
As they drew closer to the Dark Hollow, Emma and Hook had to come down from the ridge and trek through the mud again. When they were quite near the Hollow, they came to an area where there had clearly been a flash flood. The way was so thickly mudded that Emma simply couldn't cross it in her stolen boots. They were too short (only ankle-length) and too large for her, so the mud was sucking them off her feet with each step.
"We'll have to backtrack," Emma said in frustration, looking around to see that the mud stretched out for a dozen yards or so ahead of them and as far as she could see into the jungle in either direction.
"Or I could carry you," Hook offered tentatively.
Emma's eyes widened at the idea.
"My weight would just make you sink further," she said, trying to be reasonable.
"I think not," he said. "It feels to me like I've hit the rock beneath the mud under my own weight."
Emma chewed her lip.
"It would be much faster than tracing back to find another way," he said. "We don't know how long this wash is."
Emma nodded, unable to argue.
"All right," she said, approaching him.
He grinned devilishly before ducking suddenly to sweep her legs out from under her. She instinctively put her arms around his neck. He held her tight, his hand gripping her hip, his left arm under her knees. She pressed her face into the collar of his coat, breathing in his scent and closing her eyes. She sighed, relaxing against him, enjoying the sensation of being held.
And then she realized he hadn't moved yet.
Emma opened her eyes and noticed that Hook's were closed. His cheek looked flushed.
"Are you stuck?" she asked, wondering if he was too proud to admit this idea wasn't going to work.
His eyes popped open, and he gave her a sheepish little grin.
"We can still try to backtrack," she said, squirming a little, trying to get down.
"No, no," he said a little breathily, gripping her tighter.
Hook took a step forward, his foot making a squelching noise as he withdrew it from, and then thrust it back into, the mud. He moved forward slowly, carefully, taking his time in finding his footing. He had to tug on his feet, occasionally jerking sharply to free his boot. It took several minutes to cross the relatively short distance. Hook's breathing grew ragged, and Emma was certain that the task was exhausting. She held to him tightly, trying to distribute her weight so it was easier for him.
When they made it to the other side, Hook let Emma slide out of his arms and he leaned heavily against a tree. The ground around them was still damp and muddy on the other side of the wash, so Emma rolled out her little mattress over an area of wet grass.
"Come sit down," Emma said, beckoning Hook over.
He gave her a small, almost apologetic smile, and Emma noticed that his legs were shaking.
Emma went to Hook, wedging herself under his arm and making him huff out a surprised breath. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders gratefully and leaned on her as she half-dragged him to the bed roll. When he collapsed to the mat, he pulled her down with him. They landed in a heap with Emma lying half across Hook's chest. Emma gave a little surprised squeak and Hook let out a breathy chuckle.
"Thank you, lass," he said, reaching up to brush a lock of Emma's hair behind her ear.
"Thank you," she replied, her eyes wide and her cheeks turning pink.
Emma started to pull away, but he slid his fingers behind her neck, cupping the back of her head lightly. He sat up fluidly, wrapping his left arm around her as he drew her closer. He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses side by side. He was still breathing hard, and Emma found her own breath had sped up, too.
"Swan," he whispered.
His eyes were closed.
"Yes?" she breathed back.
"I would very much like to kiss you," he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers.
"Oh," she said, feeling her pulse quicken.
She watched his lips twitch up into a grin. He chuckled again, just barely audible.
"May I?" he asked, opening his eyes and drawing back just far enough to look at her properly.
Emma chewed on her lip. She didn't trust her voice, so she just nodded. She leaned back into him and let her eyes flutter closed.
His lips brushed hers lightly, once, twice. He groaned and then pressed his lips more firmly to hers, moving his mouth in delicious, tantalizing ways. Emma accepted the kiss, unsure how to properly respond. She moved her mouth a little, rubbing her lips against his. She dimly realized she was making an appreciative humming noise.
After just a few seconds, Hook pressed his forehead to hers again, breaking the kiss but keeping their noses touching. He held there for a minute as they breathed each other's breath.
"That was…" he whispered, letting the words hang.
Emma didn't know what to say.
"Was that…" he started again, "had you never…?"
"Not like that," Emma breathed, her eyes still closed. She'd played kissing games with Neal when they'd been small, but they hadn't continued the activity into her teen years.
Hook groaned, the sound coming from deep in his throat. Emma thought he might kiss her again, but he didn't. He pulled back slowly, opening his eyes to smile at her warmly before his lips twitched into an amused smirk, but the expression didn't quite meet his eyes.
"I trust it was satisfactory?" he teased, but the tone seemed somehow forced.
She chewed on her lip some more and nodded.
He looked like he was going to say something more, but he seemed to change his mind.
"How are your legs?" she asked, looking at him through her lashes.
"Much improved," he said, flexing his feet. She could feel the muscle in his thigh jump as he moved, because her hip was pressed against it. "I should test them."
She helped him to his feet and he took a few experimental steps with Emma shadowing him. He favored his right leg slightly and looked a little stiff, but otherwise he seemed fine.
"Let me stretch them a bit," he said. He sounded a little off. "I'll go collect some firewood."
"I'll go with you," she offered.
"No, no," he said quickly. "No need. Perhaps you could look around here for some dry kindling?"
"A-all right," she stammered, brow crinkling. She wondered if she'd done something wrong.
"I'll be right back," he said with an open expression, and Emma believed he was telling the truth.
She nodded and he disappeared into the jungle.