Just a little Daddy Killian and some domestic bliss :] here's hoping we get some of that in season six!
"Unbelievable," he groaned, shaking his head in defeat. "Bloody unbelievable."
He'd told Emma the truth about this once - the honest bit about how he'd been in his fair share of brigs while somewhat overselling the jail in New York as the most barbaric. He folded his arms as he sat on the steps behind the wooden railings of the staircase, realizing he may have been incorrect about those accommodations.
Because yes - here he was, imprisoned and pouting on the stairs in the living room of their new home at the behest of the most trivial jailer he'd run into in his centuries of life. He should have known his own son wouldn't stand for bad form.
He immediately regretted the dozen different knots he'd taught Liam to tie on all those afternoon trips to the harbor as he looked down at the rope binding his feet together. The navy blue socks with little anchors on them were a small consolation he thought as he wiggled his toes - especially given the fact that they'd been a Father's Day gift from the lad who'd apprehended him in lieu of a duel. Truthfully, his son would likely become heir to his father's impeccable sword skills at some point, but Killian figured it was probably wise to teach the kid to tie his own shoes before trusting him with a weapon.
"Food for the prisoner?"
Killian lifted his head as he tried to bite back the smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there like a fool, but as he took a quick glance at the five year old boy leaning against the wall and the several fruit snack wrappers at his feet, he realized he'd been figuratively locked up for far too long. Liam grinned at him in that teasing way he'd inherited from the woman he'd fallen into this ridiculously wonderful true love with and held out a red plastic package for the taking. It was one they seemed to have a lot of since his son had learned how to swipe the grocery list off the fridge - and the pirate brandishing a curved sword on the cardboard box was a slice of irony Killian had learned to deal with.
The boy was lucky he had his mother's smile - it allowed him to get away with far too much.
"I prefer Captain," he quipped, narrowing his eyes playfully at his son at he took the already opened treat. "Hey, you already ate all the good ones!"
"Nobody said prison would be paradise, papa," Liam shrugged, his smug little expression almost too victorious. "I thought you already knew that."
Killian sighed, rummaging through the nearly empty pack in search of one of the remotely edible pieces as he tried to ignore his little boy's soft giggle. It was another trait of his son's that he couldn't help but find endearing, one that ranked right up there with that head of wild and wavy dark hair as well as an uncanny ability to persuade just about anyone with that charming smirk.
He'd picked that quirk up from the Jones line and it somehow paired well with the bright blue eyes they both possessed - well, at least Emma thought so. He'd coaxed her into mentioning it once or twenty times over the years.
"So, lad," he finally said, raising an eyebrow. "What do I have to do to get out of this place?"
It didn't take long for confusion to fill the boy's face, almost like he hadn't planned this far in advance. Killian couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for him. With a fast acting princess and a rather impulse pirate for parents, the poor kid never stood a chance.
"I'd make him walk the plank."
The voice stating the very predictable idea was clever and full of amusement as it drifted from the doorway. He'd basked in the comfort and happiness that sweet tone had brought him so many times in his long life, but as she rounded the corner into the living room with that humorous grin, he quickly gathered that this instance was not about to be one of those times.
"Well, well," she started, trying desperately to hold in her laugh as she walked up behind their still rather short son. "What's going on here?"
"Careful, mama," Liam warned, his voice almost a whisper as he looked up at her. "It's a pirate prison - and he's dangerous…."
"Hmmm," Emma contemplated, winking at their boy. "Clearly."
Her gaze bounced back to Killian and he found himself fighting to maintain his distaste for the circumstances. It was really hard to do so when she gave him that stare of admiration - the one that silently praised his ability to parent and play all at once. There was still a slight hint of taunting in those green eyes of hers though and he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain her little exchange a while longer.
"Very funny, Swan," he returned, crossing his arms dramatically as he watched her through the wooden railings. "Though I can assure you my balance is quite adept, I'd prefer not to challenge the waves of our local waters on a rainy day like this one. Perhaps a less hazardous consequence would be suitable?"
She looked toward their boy with a shrug and a permissive nod, one that told the five year old watchman she'd stand guard while he started the search. Liam gave his dad a teasing glare before dashing off, an expression that made Emma laugh while Killian rolled his eyes in continued disbelief.
"Ah, yes - inclement weather," she smiled, tilting her head to the side. "It's kinda what got you into this whole mess to begin with, isn't it?"
"Aye, love," he sighed, folding his arms in defiance. "That and misplacing that sodding movie case for that film he's been so infatuated with lately."
"Oh, you mean the new Pirates of The Carribean one? Yeah, he's been a bit hooked on it the past couple of weeks…."
"Ah, with the puns now, huh?"
"I thought it was clever," she giggled, placing her hands on the railings as she smirked at his unfortunate position. "Though I can see why you might not be in a laughing mood."
She leaned forward enough for him to meet her halfway, the wood bars between them a weak barrier as he kissed her gently. His feet were tied, but his hands had stayed free and he utilized that bit of fortune by caressing her jaw with his fingertips. She sighed softly against his mouth when his hand started to twist slowly around her ponytail and he had to grin at her reaction. He knew that sound of warning all too well.
"So," she breathed. "Think you'll be released before dinner?"
"Well, it's hard to say," he replied, pursing his lips in a pout. "Unless he locates that bloody movie without our help, I'm going to have to cut a hell of a deal, love."
"You're a good dad," she told him, brushing the hair off his forehead. "If you keep being such a great sport, perhaps I'll have to do some detaining of my own later."
"Ah," Killian perked up, raising a customary eyebrow. "Is that a promise, Swan?"
"I guess you'll have to wait and find out," she flirted, wandering toward the doorway back into the kitchen. "Dinner in an hour, Jones - you better start working on an escape plan."
"Wait - Swan," he said suddenly, his words quickly turning into a whine. "You….you're really just going to leave me here?"
Her eyes lightened as the corner of her mouth curved up, the realization of just how familiar this was dawning on both of them almost instantly. They fell back into that well known staring contest - the one that had started at the top of a beanstalk years earlier. She had been wrong about him, for the record - and Killian found himself beyond grateful for that for the millionth time.
"I just need a head start," she smiled, a sweet sense of love in her eyes. "But something tells me you'll probably catch up to me anyway."
His heart swelled as he took a quick glance around the room he'd been imprisoned in. The photographs on the fireplace, Liam's soccer cleats on the rug by the door, the vase of fresh flowers he'd brought her the day before - there were certainly worse places he could have been held captive.
"Aye, love - I always do," he quipped. "Here's hoping your son will be a little more accommodating than a bloody giant."
"Best of luck, Captain," she returned, tapping the door frame. "See if you can break free in time to set the table."
"Working on it, love," he groaned, giving her that mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows. "Pirate, remember?"
"Yeah," she rolled her eyes, biting her lip. "I don't know if I could ever forget."