Fairedge was a three day ship ride away, which meant that there was a lot of downtime when the wind wasn't giving the crew problems and when the sky was clear.
For Hook and the crew, that meant a lot of dice, cards, and drinking. For me, it meant trying not to get sick each time the boat rocked.
As the sun finally fell behind the horizon, a few of the crew members stopped their games long enough to light some lanterns, bathing the deck of the ship in a golden glow. By now, most of the sickness had subsided, and I found myself sitting atop a barrel at a makeshift table with Langley, Fane, Smee, Porter, and Hook as they played a long game of poker. A small pile of copper coins sat in the middle of the table with an occasional silver, a couple of Hook's rings, and what looked like a rabbit's foot.
"What do you think, love?" Hook asked me, leaning closer and showing me his cards. "Think I should go all in?"
I pretended to study the cards, but Hook knew as well as I did that I had no idea how to play poker. I had watched them play, watched what cards were in what hands that Hook played and the ones he threw away, but I still had no clue.
"Um…" Not wanting to make a fool of myself, I shrugged and ducked my head, feeling the blush beginning to heat the tips of my ears.
The coolness of his hook beneath my chin was something I was becoming accustomed to, but it didn't stop the goosebumps from rising on my arms.
"I trust you," he said, a small smile on his lips. "Just tell me yes or no."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Porter pretend to gag. It made Smee chuckle, and even Langley's shoulders shook as he laughed, but Hook and I didn't pay them any mind. In fact, if the twinkle in his eye was any indication, he was loving it.
And so was I.
"Yes," I answered with a bit more confidence.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine before pulling back slightly. "That's my girl," he praised before he turned his focus back to the game. "I'm all in, boys," Hook declared as he threw a few more silver coins into the pile. He also pulled a simple, silver key from around his neck and dropped it in.
Porter whistled, a wicked grin spreading over his lips as Fane's eyes went wide.
"Feeling lucky, Captain?" Porter asked.
Hook seemed unfazed, almost bored. He nodded. "Sure am. Whoever wins this hand takes all, including one night sleeping in my quarters."
"Make it a week," Fane piped up.
Hook didn't miss a beat. "Deal."
Fane's smile almost split his face, and I felt myself get nervous. If Hook lost this hand, it would be my fault, and he and I would end up sleeping below deck with the rest of his crew.
"Lay 'em down then, boys!"
Everyone laid their cards down together, each of their eyes darting around the table to glimpse everyone else's hands. I waited patiently, holding my breath.
Porter and Fane both swore and Hook's grin grew.
"A straight flush?" Fane asked.
"Again," Porter answered for Hook, sounding a bit exasperated. "I don't know how you do it, Captain," he said with a shake of his head as he collected the cards from everyone else.
"A hundred years of playing pays off," Langley stated, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig from his cup. He didn't seem nearly as put off at losing the hand and a chance at a luxurious bed.
"A hundred and fourteen, lad," Hook corrected. His right hand found it's way to my knee and squeezed. "I've been playing poker since I was eight."
Which makes him 122 years old, I thought, the idea seeming outrageous. It was easy to forget that Hook was older than he looked, and I reminded myself to ask him about it all later. It had to be one interesting story…
Porter's chuckle brought me out of my thoughts. "Well, regardless, I'm sick and tired of losing my savings to the likes of you."
Hook's thumb traced circles on the side of my leg as he leaned back in his chair. "Learn to fold then," he quipped with a toothy grin, which Porter returned.
"It's hard when that comfortable bed of yours is on the line!" Everyone chuckled. "You know I can never pass up the opportunity to try and take it from you."
They went on like this for a while; playful banter followed by fake threats and sarcastic retorts. It was hard not to smile as I watched them, but as the moon began to climb higher into the sky, I felt my eyes getting heavy and my yawns becoming more frequent.
"You can't be tired yet, lass," Porter reprimanded. "The night is still far too young!"
"He's right, love," Hook agreed. "Fairedge is still two days away. You'll have plenty of time to sleep." He shot me his famous smirk before pulling me to my feet and pulling me close, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "However, if you insist on retiring for the night, may I suggest we do that… together?"
My heart stumbled at his words, my breath hitching as I tried to remain calm.
To my relief, it didn't seem that he was waiting for an answer. Instead, he kissed the top of my head and then turned his attention to Porter, his fingers tracing small circles in the small of my back.
"Are you sober enough to play your fiddle?" he asked, and Porter glared at him.
"Have I ever not been sober enough to play my fiddle?" Porter and Hook held each other's gaze for a long moment before Porter's lips finally cracked into a smile. He ducked under the table to grab the black box that contained his instrument before he glanced around the deck and shouted, "Who's feelin' a jig?"
Cheers of approval answered him, and Porter waisted no time retrieving his fiddle from the box and greasing up his bow.
The rest of the crew cleared away their make-shift tables and their chairs to make room for dancing. I saw Gresham pull a harmonica from his pocket and another crew member pull out a type of pipe flute. Another drummed on a barrel, trying out the sound before nodding in approval.
It seemed we'd have an entire band playing tonight. I grinned, a laugh bubbling up as the remaining men either stepped onto the floor or leaned against the sides of the ship with their drinks in hand, content to watch the rest of us dance on sea legs.
As Porter lifted the fiddle to his chin, he met my eyes and grinned. It reminded me so much of the smile he gave me the night he played in the pub, and I felt the familiar butterflies rise in my stomach at the thought of dancing.
"Are you gonna just stand there, lass," he crowed, drawing everyone's attention to me, "or are you going to get out here and dance?"
I didn't have time to answer before Smee and an unfamiliar crew member stepped forward and took each of my hands, dragging me out of Hook's arms and back with them to stand in a line across from another group of crew members. When I peeked over my shoulder, I was met with Hook's cerulean eyes. They lit with a smile as he planted himself on top of a barrel. He crossed his arms and shot me a wink before I turned back to Porter.
"What's the dance?" I asked, wiping my palms on my dress.
"Just follow the boys," Porter answered as his bow hovered above the strings.
I swallowed the bundle of nerves in my throat and nodded. I didn't want to make a fool of myself, especially because I didn't know the dance, but I knew that even if I looked foolish, I was amongst friends.
The thought hit me hard, and I had to swallow hard again to keep from getting too emotional.
A princess of Mystasia, friends with a bunch of pirates. Father would be furious.
The jig was ruthless. Porter's fingers worked like mad while his bow sawed away. The drumming on the barrels kept a fast, steady rhythm, and Gresham's harmonica floated somewhere in the middle.
Thankfully, the dance itself wasn't as complicated as the jig would suggest. Simple footwork repeated, as well as the clapping and occasional stomp, and the only time I needed to really pay attention to my steps was when the two lines closed the gap between us and I was being twirled and handed off down the line in a criss-cross.
As I made my way down the line, I looked up in time to see Hook stand and shrug out of his coat. He handed it off to Langley, whose toe was tapping despite his serious face, and came to stand at the end of the line.
He started in on the steps, blending in seamlessly, before catching my hand and pulling me close, catapulting us into a spin that made me dizzy.
The jig changed, but no one seemed to notice as they transitioned to the next dance without so much as a pause. While most of the crew continued to dance on their own, stomping and clapping and shouting, a few had picked partners and glided around the deck around Hook and I.
"You know," I said, raising my voice so Hook could hear me above the music and the cheers of the crew, "for 122, you sure know how to lead in a jig."
"I'd have to agree! Not too shabby for an old man!"
We both laughed, our cheeks flushing pink as we danced jig after jig. We probably would have kept on dancing had Hook not pulled me away from the group and pressed his lips hard against mine.
My arms snaked around his neck as I stood on my tiptoes to deepen the kiss, and I'm sure if Hook had pulled me any closer that we would have molded into one person.
His skin was warm even through his shirt, and the nape of his neck was wet with sweat, but I loved it. The way he smelled, the way he tasted… it was something I would never get tired of.
We both broke away at the same time, our chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath.
"Oi! Get a room!" Porter crowed, his fingers and bow never faltering. The crew echoed him as they went about their dancing and drinking.
"Gladly," Hook breathed, looking at me with an unspoken question. I simply nodded as I tried to calm my hammering heartbeat, but even with the blood rushing in my ears, I could still hear the whistles and cheers as Hook and I retreated to his quarters.
If Hook was as nervous as I was, he certainly didn't look the part. I stepped into the room and stood on shaking legs, my palms sweating no matter how many times I wiped them on my dress. Hook, however, locked the door with his silver key, his hands steady as if we weren't alone for the first time since we met in a room that had a bed.
The night he escaped the dungeon doesn't count, I told myself.
The moonlight that spilled through the window that covered the entire back of the Hook's room left no need for a lantern and bathed everything in a creamy white light. Hook's dark hair looked inky black in comparison to his white shirt, which seemed to glow like the moon. And when he finally turned to face me, his eyes looked like blue fire.
I swear my heart stopped completely when he closed the gap between us in a few short strides and took my face in his hand, his thumb tracing my cheekbone as he stared down at me.
"I will never get tired of the way you look at me, love." His voice had dropped into a low rumble that made me shiver.
"I'll never get tired of looking at you." It came out so quick that I surprised myself, and I quickly tried to duck my head. I was mortified that I had been so openly honest, but Hook's hand was firm and kept my face upward. He smiled, his deep laugh rolling over my skin in waves.
He leaned down suddenly, his lips brushing against mine almost like he was asking for permission. My fingers slowly traced the soft material of his shirt at his chest and slowly slid downward until I could feel the hard muscles of his stomach underneath. Hook shivered, a breathy moan escaping his lips. The sound ignited a fire in my belly that coursed through my veins, and I pressed my lips hard against his before I could let myself second guess anything.
It was all the permission Hook needed, and soon the kisses became heated and desperate. We couldn't get enough of each other.
He cupped the back of my neck, making it impossible to pull away, but pulling away was the last thing on my mind.
Without breaking away, Hook guided me backwards until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. Butterflies erupted in my belly and seemed to flutter in the deepest parts of my bones as I sat down and crawled backwards so I was completely on the bed.
My lips felt swollen and full and the edges of my mouth and chin burned from Hook's stubble, but it was a burn that I missed the instant it was gone.
When my shoulders hit the pillows, Hook brought himself to hover above me, each of his arms resting on either side of my head, caging me in.
I reached up and tangled my hands in his shirt, tugging softly. Hook took my hint and lowered himself completely onto me, pinning me beneath him.
"You're so beautiful," he said against my lips in between kisses, and I smiled.
We laid like that for a while, enjoying the feel of each other as we exchanged kisses. At one point, when Hook's tongue flicked out and brushed against my bottom lip, I could feel the fire swell in the deepest parts of my body. I gasped, pulling Hook so close that I couldn't breathe, and Hook's tongue filled my mouth.
His tongue was gentle as it flicked against mine, and I felt myself coming more undone by the minute.
When he finally pulled away— after what only could be described as too soon— his lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed. We were both breathing hard, our chests pressing together before falling again, but Hook didn't wait to catch his breath before he ducked his head into the crook of my neck and not before I saw how lust-blown his eyes had become.
I tensed for a moment before he pressed a feather-light kiss just below my ear. I sighed and turned my head, happy to give him more to work with. He drew my skin into his mouth and sucked slightly. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make me gasp.
His smile against my skin was evident. "The noises you make…" He sighed. "You'll be the death of me." His fingers tangled themselves in my hair, pulling slightly whenever I made one of the noises he seemed to enjoy.
His lips fell lower and lower down the curve of my neck, and my heart hammered as I felt Hook shift his weight to his other arm. Slowly, his hook slid beneath the strap of my dress and pulled it down over the curve of my shoulder.
Somewhere in my lust-fogged brain, I realized what was happening, how fast everything was unraveling, and I realized that I wasn't ready.
"Thomas," I breathed, my voice shaking, "wait—"
"Don't worry, love," he whispered against my shoulder, his breath hot on my skin. His stubble rubbed deliciously against my skin as he pressed a firm kiss to my bare shoulder. Then, he propped himself up to look at me. "That's as far as I'm going. Can't have you taking advantage of me now can we?"
I slapped him playfully on the chest as he rolled off of me and propped himself up on his elbow. His hook slid the strap back up my arm before tracing down my arm and resting at my hip.
"I would never dream of taking advantage of you," I said with a smile.
Hook arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? Because I'm positive you would."
"You're strong enough to hold me off," I pretended to scoff. "Besides, you're old enough to know all the tricks in the book."
Hook poked me in the side, causing me to giggle as he pretended to look offended. "Quit picking at my age, love! It's very hurtful! Besides—" he wiggled his eyebrows at me, "— 122 is the new 20."
I shook my head and smiled, my head still spinning from the events of the day. Hook and I had gone from bickering to laying on his bed together, our lips swollen from kissing and hair and clothes disheveled from our hands wandering over each other.
Silence descended on us, but it was a comfortable silence. Hook held me close, his hook following my spine down to the small of my back before following it back up to in between my shoulder blades. His eyes traced the outline of my face and lingered on my lips before he met my gaze again and he smiled.
It was impossible not to smile back. In fact, I was certain I would never stop smiling again. As long as I could lay with Hook like this, my hands splayed against his chest as we looked at each other, nothing could touch me.
"What's on your mind, love?" His voice was barely above a whisper even though we were alone in the privacy of his quarters.
I shook my head. "Nothing. It's silly."
"I doubt it," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Tell me."
I thought for a moment, unsure how to word my question. It was something that had been on my mind for a while, but it was always something that I thought could wait. And it could wait, but with Hook and I laying here, I couldn't help but think about it more.
"Tell me, love," he said again as his hook slipped beneath my chin and he made me meet his eyes.
"How is it…" I trailed off, sure that I was already sounding ridiculous. "How is it that you're…"
Hook arched a brow, prompting me just to spill the question without thinking about it too much.
I sighed. "How is it that you're still… alive? And still so good looking?" I added the last part in an attempt to make the question less daunting, but it didn't seem to work. Hook's smile was fleeting and his eyes suddenly seemed guarded.
He couldn't look me in the eyes as he leaned back cleared his throat. "Does my age bother you?" he asked, his voice holding an edge that I didn't understand.
I propped myself up on my elbow and shook my head. "No, no, no," I assured him in an attempt to backpedal. I had hit a soft spot. I hadn't meant to, and now Hook was retreading back into himself. My chest ached as my mind screamed at me to fix whatever it was that I broken. "I just… I've never met someone who has gone untouched by time. Except Tink of course. I didn't think anyone else, except Peter Pan, could do such a thing.
"I'm sorry," I sighed, feeling foolish, "I didn't mean—"
"It's alright." Hook sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Then, he reached back and grabbed my hand, drawing me over to sit beside him. "I guess I should have known that you'd ask sooner or later."
I entwined our finger and laid my head on his shoulder, desperate to get back to where we had just been, so happy and wrapped up in each other, but it seemed that moment had passed.
Way to go, Holly.
"It's quite a long story," he said, and I knew that we were walking a thin line. Hook was giving me another chance to back out, but we both knew that I would wonder about it until it drove me mad.
"Fairedge is still two days away," I said, looking up at him and trying to give him a reassuring smile.
He ducked his head, his eyes falling on our entwined fingers as he ran his thumb back and forth over my skin. "I'm afraid you wouldn't think very highly of me if I told you this story." His voice was firm, unwavering, but I could detect the worry beneath his words.
"Well," I sighed, "I guess it's a good thing I don't think very highly of you anyway. You know, with you being a devious pirate captain and all; kidnapping unsuspecting princesses from their rooms in the middle of the night." He looked up at me and I shot him a wink. Slowly, his mask cracked, and he gave me a small, sad smile.
The smile didn't last though, and he turned his eyes to a spot on the wall across the room. His blue eyes flicked back and forth, as if he was searching for the right answer on the wall. I let him search, let him think. This was obviously not easy for him. His palm had become sweaty and his grip had tightened on my hand.
"Well," he said before clearing his throat, "believe it or not, once upon a time, I wasn't a devious pirate captain." He tried to smile, but it didn't meet his eyes. " And I didn't always hate Peter Pan. In fact…" he licked his lips and swallowed hard, as if his next words threatened to choke him. I squeezed his hand to reassure him, but I could myself shaking as my skin went cold and clammy at Peter's name.
"In fact…" I prompted, my voice hardly audible as I felt his words looming over me like a tidal wave that was about to come crashing down.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
He took a steadying breath and squared his shoulders. "In fact, I used to think that Peter and I were friends and I… I used to be a proud Lost Boy."
