Hook glanced down at his phone again, willing it to ring. What the hell was Neal doing? He had texted twenty minutes ago, and there was still no fake emergency call!
He had to get out of here. This white, fluffy, lacy hell, he had to get OUT.
Right now, he was chained to a bench outside the dressing rooms with Ruby, waiting for Belle to reappear in a white gown that looked exactly the same as every other white gown she put on. And that was really the most frustrating thing: every single dress looked exactly like the dress before it, as far as he could tell. But he had to say something different every time, or Belle would complain that he wasn't paying attention.
And then, every time he said, "Oh, there. That one looks nice, get that one.", she would wrinkle her nose and say, "Really? I don't know…" and try on another dress. And then if he said, "Oh, you're right, it's dreadful. Get a different one.", she would tilt her head and stare at herself in the mirror, swirling the skirt around her for twenty minutes before deciding to look at another.
Ruby, meanwhile, was saying important, educated-sounding things like, "Ooh, I like the neckline on that one!" or "That's an interesting cut, but maybe a little too boxy." But Belle only glowered and looked at Hook and said, "What do you think?" And then, of course, he'd have to say, "Right, yeah…the neckline. Brilliant."
Belle came out in the tenth dress she picked out, holding either side of the skirt so she wouldn't trip. The consultant was talking some nonsense that he chose not to listen to, while Ruby nodded in agreement.
"What do you think?" Belle asked him, twirling as much as she could manage in the ridiculous thing.
Hook glanced at the dress—once again, identical to all the others—and back up at Belle. She was positively beaming, so he figured she had to be happy about it; that meant it had to be better than the others, in some imperceptible way.
"It's perfect."
The smile slid off her face. "I already tried this one on!" she snapped. "I knew you weren't paying attention!"
"What do you want from me?" he asked through clenched teeth. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to give me your honest opinion!" she glared.
"My honest opinion? My honest opinion is that, I can't tell the difference between one useless mess of lace and the next. And my honest opinion is that you don't pay attention, because I told you at least five times since this morning, I don't know how to pick out a bloody wedding dress!"
Belle narrowed her eyes dangerously and her her mouth tightened to a thin line. "Right," she said shortly. "Well, then. I suppose you could always just leave." Her tone made it very clear, he absolutely could not leave. Hook looked down at his feet, ashamed that he was quailing under this tiny little woman. This is Emma's fault, he thought bitterly.
Belle was surprisingly intimidating for such a small person, but the old Hook—the fearsome Captain Hook— would never have stood for this. Emma had broken him. Ever since Neverland, when she started wrapping him around her finger. Well, okay, maybe a little before that. Maybe…meh, the second he saw her when he got little butterflies in his tummy because she was the prettiest, most beautifulest, awesomest, wonderfulest, amazingest, holy-shit-she's-so-cool-God-I-hope-likes-me-est person ever, and he would kill his own mother if she asked him to.
Whoa. That was fucked up.
But it wasn't his fault. Hook knew himself: he was a hopeless romantic. Even as a vicious blackhearted pirate, he still secretly swooned over the fact that his quest for revenge against Rumplestiltskin was for love: tragically romantic, like Romeo and Juliet—except not, because only one of them died in his story, because he wasn't a dumb-ass like Romeo.
But even for all that, he could still keep his shit together. Around the men, he was tough as nails; he drank hard liquor like it was mother's milk; he ripped men's inside's out without flinching—sometimes with his bare hands (well, okay, not his bare hands, but still….not flinching? That was pretty good). And then he met Emma. And suddenly, everything else was unimportant, and all that mattered was her.
And that bitch knew it.
Oh, did she know it! True, he did remind her at least three times a day, but she took advantage of his feelings and used them to manipulate him into doing all this shit for her. Not to mention, she kept giving him these crazy mixed signals! She'd smile one minute, then snap at him the next; he'd earn a chuckle, then get in trouble because she couldn't believe he was "actually goofing off at a time like this!"; then there was that time where they totally made out in Neverland, and then she kind of just shrugged and said, "Yeah, no, one-time-thing, man", like what the fuck was up with that? And then she has the the nerve to get between his bro-ship with Neal? It was amazing they could even be in the same room together without Neal tearing him apart, let alone be friends! And she actually got in the middle of that and allowed them to rekindle their animosity over her? Selfish little…. He shook his head. That was probably why Neal hadn't given him the emergency call. He could almost forgive him for that. He was still going to beat the ever-loving shit out of him when he got home, but he could forgive him.
What was it about Emma that made him let her do this to him? It wasn't like she was the only beautiful woman he knew (for example, Regina was, like, day-um, woman!) Emma wasn't exactly the most affectionate person he knew. She wasn't very nice. Actually, she was pretty bossy. And entitled. Kind of spoiled, if he was going to be honest. A bit self-centered, maybe. She didn't seem to care about his feelings. She didn't really seem interested in his inner pain and turmoil. She didn't even seem to like him platonically sometimes, let alone romantically. It was almost like he was… a trophy husband?
Oh, God, he thought, horrified. This is what he had become. The youngest lieutenant in the King's navy turned infamous pirate, the most bloodthirsty, badass motherfucker around…and he was now sitting in a little dress shop in Maine, standing there to look pretty and hold purses.
"INCONCEIVABLE!" he shouted, pounding his fist.
"Sir?" the consultant said, whose name tag read: MOLLY. "Sir, I need to ask you to lower your voice."
"Right. Sorry. Just… just feeling a bit overwhelmed."
Molly smiled. "Pre-wedding jitters are totally normal, you're fine. Honestly, we don't get a lot of grooms in here, so if you want—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Belle said, holding up a hand. "We're not—" She looked at Hook, scoffing. "I mean, no. Just no. No. I can't even, how much NO is contained in that statement. He is so not the groom."
"I am not the groom," Hook affirmed, shaking his head.
"Like, I would kill myself if he were the groom."
"Okay, well, that's a strong statement, let's not—"
"Not if he were the last person on earth—"
"Yes, we GET it, thanks—"
"I'm practically throwing up in my brain—"
"OH, MY GOD. See this is why, I would never marry her," he hissed to Molly. She crinkled her forehead.
"So if you're not the groom…who are you?" she asked, looking between them.
"He's my mister-of-honor," Belle said matter-of-factly. Molly raised her eyebrows.
"I'm sorry….did you say, mister-of-honor?"
"It's like a maid-of-honor, but it's a guy," Belle explained. "I don't have a lot of girlfriends—just this dumb jabroni." She punched his arm, rather roughly.
"Yeah, could we cool it with the bro-punches?" he winced, rubbing his arm.
"Oh, come on. I'm like half your size, that doesn't hurt."
"Would my face be doing this if it didn't?" he snapped, pointing to his pain-contorted expression.
"Anyway," Belle said, turning back to Molly. "I'm not getting married, exactly. I'm doing a vow renewal. With my husband who is not him," she added unnecessarily, pointing to Hook.
"Oh," Molly said, nodding. "I see…"
"Do misters-of-honor typically wear something special?" Belle asked, looking concerned.
"Honestly, I can't say I've ever come across any misters-of-honor, so I wouldn't know."
Belle looked Hook up and down, frowning slightly. "You should still make sure you wear something nice."
"Belle, I swear to God, if you start with this something nice bullshit again, you can find yourself a different mister-of-honor. Which, by the way, is one of the stupidest things I've ever heard in my life."
Belle slit her eyes in cold fury. "I think," she said through clenched teeth, "I need to find another dress."
"Well, hurry up!" Hook called after her as she flounced away, dragging Molly with her. "Because I'm leaving in ten minutes, with or without you!"he shouted as she disappeared into the dressing rooms. Huffing angrily, he folded his arms, glaring at the clock. Ruby tapped her fingers irritably on the table. He rolled his eyes: clearly, he was supposed to notice.
"What?"
"You have been ignoring me all day!" she snapped, getting right to the point. Hook raised his eyebrows.
"It's not a date, Ruby. I told you, I don't know the first thing about wedding dresses."
"So that's it? That's the only reason you brought me? I thought you wanted to spend time together, to make up for last night!"
Hook closed his eyes impatiently. Goddamn, her voice was shriek-y. "Ruby," he said, trying to remain calm, "this is not a great time. Can we talk about this later?"
"I don't know!" Ruby said, throwing up her arms. "Which one of your other girlfriends will be joining us on that outing? Hmm? Let's see…we've had Emma, that was fun. And today with Belle, my sides are still fucking splitting! So, who's next? Huh? Huh? Who?"
He stared at her with wide eyes. "You're insane," he said, stunned. "You're literally insane."
Ruby's jaw dropped. "How dare you!" she said furiously. "How insensitive can you be?! It is a full moon tomorrow, and you're—OH!" She stalked away, seething, shoving past people and shouting all the way out. Hook stared after her bemusedly. What the hell?
Belle walked out of the dressing room, holding her skirt gingerly. "Okay, so this one…" She frowned, looking around. "Where's your slut girlfriend?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "She left. She went absolutely ballistic because of… I don't even know, I tune her out when she's talking. But she was shouting about the full moon and then—" he made an explosion sound. Belle nodded knowingly.
"Ah, yeah… the full moon."
"What's so terrible about the full moon?" he said bewilderedly. Belle motioned Molly away, and took Ruby's vacant seat.
"See… oh, how do I say this delicately? Ruby eats people."
"Excuse me?"
"She's a werewolf. She turns into a wolf at the full moon and eats people."
Hook blinked a few times. He knew the words coming out of Belle's mouth, but they weren't connecting. It sounded like, she was suggesting that Ruby turned into a wolf. That was almost stupider than being a mister-of-honor. "Come again?"
Belle raised her eyebrows. "This isn't really a difficult concept," she said, speaking slowly as though he were very dim-witted. "Ruby is a werewolf. I don't know how to explain it more than that."
"I need a drink," he said shakily, patting his jacket for his flask. "I need a million drinks, actually. Can we go to a bar? I need to drain a bar of all its alcohol, can we please go to a bar?" He downed his rum in one go: Belle looked impressed. "I need to drink stuff that is going to destroy my liver. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I-I think—"
"I don't think you understand how much I need to drink right now. I need to drink so much, my hangover won't be here until next week."
"Okay. We'll go to a bar and drink." She patted his shoulder. "We'll finish this another time."
He glared at her, making her sigh.
"Fine," she said reluctantly. "Me and Tink will do this another time."
"Good answer," he said darkly.
"You're so angsty," she complained, standing up. "You are going to be the worst mister-of-honor…"
STILL WONDERING ABOUT HENRY'S ADVENTURES WITH MAGIC? NEXT CHAPTER TELLS YOU ABOUT THE BIG UGLY.