Hook + cell phone
Hook + selfies
Thank you to trueloveswanjones for suggesting iPhone camera/selfie, euphoric-melancholyy for suggesting cell phone/phone pictures, and darkswanthepirate for suggesting camera!
"Seriously? There's nothing I can do to convince you?"
"I'm not sure why you care as much as you do, to be honest. I'm not critical of your attire."
"I'm not dressed like it's Halloween!"
"Hallo-what?"
It was the third time they had engaged in such a conversation. First, as he'd followed her back to her abode in New York, shortly after she'd regained her memories, Swan had suggested they stop by an apparel shop. He'd declined at the time, using her desire to speak privately about the situation as a reason to return to her home as soon as possible. It had worked, and she'd dropped the subject immediately.
The second time had been the following evening in Storybrooke. After Henry had gone to bed, they'd met with Snow White and David in the parlor at the Widow Lucas's establishment. Afterwards, David had asked if he might be interested in borrowing some of his clothes, but Hook had politely turned him down with a quip about the awkwardness of wearing another man's garments. Swan had questioned him about it after her parents had left, but she hadn't pressed the issue before she returned to the rooms she was sharing with Henry.
He'd mistakenly assumed, based on those two interactions, that Swan understood what "No, thank you" meant. Thinking back on their shared history, however, he wasn't sure why he'd assumed that. The woman was now in his rented room, standing in his personal space, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, demanding an explanation as to why he would not exchange his attire for that of this realm.
"It's this stupid made-up holiday where you dress up in—look, never mind. Can you at least explain why you won't consider it?"
"I don't see why I should, given that you haven't given me an explanation as to why this irks you so much."
She rolled her eyes, dropped her arms to her sides, and … bloody hell, did she actually stamp her foot? "Damnit, Hook! What's Henry going to think?"
"I've no idea," he replied. "Perhaps you're overestimating his interest."
"Yeah, like the world's nosiest twelve-year-old is going to stop wondering why this guy with one hand is dressed like some kind of stripper pirate."
He wasn't sure what a stripper pirate was, but if the remaining dwarves weren't too busy panicking over their dwindling numbers, he would ask them later. "Then tell him I'm a bit touched in the head," he suggested, his patience waning. "Or that I lost a wager. Or that I'm a bloody pirate captain and this is my normal attire. I'm not his parent, Swan; that's not my responsibility. Besides, the lad hasn't said anything to me on the issue since yesterday morning, and I believe both of us ended that line of inquiry effectively enough. Do you think he would be rude enough to ask again?"
"But why does it even matter? If you changed now, we could just say you had some kind of … I don't know, job where you had to dress like a pirate and you didn't have a chance to change."
"So tell him that."
"That only works if you go out and buy new clothes."
"So then don't tell him that."
"Why do you insist on dressing like this?" She was practically shouting at this point, and he lost his temper.
"Because this is how I dress! You have no say in this, Swan. I'm here to help you and your family—it's the very reason I'm here—and if the least that I ask of you is to drop such an insignificant topic as my bloody clothing, then perhaps you should consider obliging me!"
She didn't respond, though her face remained highly colored and she looked as though she were split between shame and indignance. For a moment, he thought she was thinking over her next words, but when she didn't speak and stared at the ground instead, he understood that the argument was over, at least for the time being.
Meanwhile, he was embarrassed himself. He was a bloody arse, losing his temper over something as trivial as his clothing. The truth was more complicated than he could convey to her, though, even if he wished to. While he understood that he might be trapped here in the Land Without Magic, this was Storybrooke. Magic abounded, businesses accepted Enchanted Forest currency, and his hook was a commonplace item. There was simply no reason that he should swap out his leathers for whatever passed as fashionable here, except to please Swan.
And while he wanted to please her—if she would only let him, bloody hell, if she only would—he damn well needed a better reason from her than Henry.
Especially since he was secretly hoping that his attire might jog Henry's memory. But Swan needn't know about that.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have shouted."
"It's okay. I shouldn't have either. I'll stop asking you about it."
"Thank you." He expected her to leave, but instead, she just adjusted her shirt a bit and looked uncomfortable. "Er, was there something else you wished to speak about? Is there a plan in place for today?"
"Well, okay, does this whole 'no modern stuff' apply to just clothing?"
"I—what do you mean?"
She sighed impatiently. "Okay, I have something for you. Hold on." Now she finally left.
Though he knew she would return shortly, he couldn't help but sag with relief in her absence.
When she reentered, without even knocking—how very rude—she tossed an item on the bed and beckoned for him to sit down. "Here." She shoved another item into his hand.
It was one of those talking devices. "This is meant for me?" he asked.
"Yeah. Is that okay?"
He looked up at her in surprise. It wasn't exactly a shock that she would give him a device like this, although to be fair, he didn't know how much the item had cost. Given that everyone in this realm seemed to own and use one, though, they were probably inexpensive. No, what was shocking was that she was actually asking him if it was okay to give him a piece of technology like this.
He reasoned this was not the time to tell her that her father had already gifted him with his very first piece of modern technology, or that the shaver in question had (mercifully) reappeared in the bathroom of his room. This new curse apparently had an excellent memory.
"Thank you, Swan. I shall endeavor to learn how to use it properly."
"What, you think I wouldn't teach you?"
"You're not busy? What about Henry?"
She shrugged. "We're here because I have a case, remember? He might not know what the case entails, but he knows I'm working. He's with Mary Margaret for the day. Besides," she said with a grin, "I'm not passing up the opportunity to teach Captain Hook how to use a smartphone."
"The device is smart?"
"It's just the name. Don't worry about it. Look, let me show you." His heart thumped happily in his chest as she sat down on his bed and grabbed his sleeve to pull him down with her.
He tried not to think too much about her proximity as she showed him the tiny little button on the side of the device that would shut it on and off, and as she explained how what was called the screen could be turned on and off with the same button. She then showed him how to access something called contacts. "I added a bunch for you," she said, pointing at the screen. "Not all of them will know who you are when you call, but I figured better safe than sorry."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Here, let me show you. Get to my name." He did so as she pulled out her own device. "Okay, now press this button—this is basically the 'select' button that lets you do stuff. Now select the call feature."
The screen changed, and moments later, Swan's device began to shake. She held it out to show him that she was receiving a message from … an entirely meaningless number. "Now hang up," she instructed. "Uh, press this here."
"How does that constitute 'hanging up?'"
She opened her mouth to explain and then shook her head. "Long story. It's just what it's called. Anyway, this number here," and she held up her device so he could see it clearly, "is your phone number. Every phone has its own unique number, so if there's someone you want to call, you need that number."
"But my device says I called you. Not some number."
"Go back into contacts and look again."
He did so, this time without her assistance, and found that underneath Swan's name was another number. "I see."
"Now, I can add you to my contacts." She held her device so he could watch as she tapped at the screen, labeling his number as KILLIAN.
Killian. Not Hook.
"I rather like that," he said, mostly to himself.
"What?"
"It's nothing."
"Seriously, what is it?"
"Nothing, love."
But she seemed to figure it out. "Henry's nosy. What if you call me and 'Hook' shows up on the screen?" She was blushing. "So, you're just going to be Killian from now on."
"No, I understand." It didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy it every time Killian came forth from those lips. He didn't mind being addressed by his moniker any more than Swan seemed to mind being addressed her by her surname. But there was something so strangely intimate hearing her use his given name, no matter the circumstances.
She shook her head slightly and held up the device again. "Okay, so now you've called me. Why don't you try answering? Hold on." She put it into his hand before going into the bathroom.
He assumed that she meant for him to wait until she was finished using the bathroom, but then the device in his hand began to make an irritating noise, like the chiming of cheaply made bells. And the name Emma Swan appeared. He quickly selected what appeared to be the option to receive the message, but he wasn't quite sure what to do next.
"Did it work?"
He could hear Swan's voice coming out of the device, but he could also hear her in the bathroom. "I think so," he said uncertainly.
"Put it up to your ear." He did so. "Can you hear me? Don't shout, just talk normally."
"Swan, I can hear you, but I can also hear you in the other room."
"Fair enough." He could hear the smile on her face, and couldn't help but grin a little, like they had some sort of secret between them. "But the cool thing is, I could be across town and you could still hear me just as clearly."
"That's extremely convenient."
"Exactly. No need for carrier pigeons or anything. Um, why do you have an electric razor in here?"
She must be referring to the shaver. "It was a gift from your father."
"Oh ... okay, I guess. You know, it's really weird that you have a razor, but no toothbrush."
"I've no clue what that is."
"Never mind."
It was getting a little strange speaking to her through the device when she was simply one room over; he opted to return to the original subject. "So any time I wish to speak to you, I simply follow those steps?"
"Well … yeah, I mean, I might not answer."
"Why wouldn't you answer if you were receiving a message from such a dashing pirate?"
"I might be taking a shower."
"All the more reason to answer, in my opinion."
She laughed; she actually laughed. "Or I might be asleep, or I might be busy tracking down whoever cursed everyone."
"And what should I do if you don't answer?"
"It'll go to voicemail."
"Swan."
"Right, here, let's try it. Hang up, okay?"
She came out of the bathroom and sat back beside him, just as closely as she had before. Her hair smelled like coconut. "Call me again." This time, her device buzzed again, but she didn't answer the call.
"Why does yours shake, while mine makes an infernal noise?"
"We can fix that," she said, as though that answered his question. "Just—you need to hold it up to your ear."
Where he'd heard Swan's voice coming out of the device moments earlier, he could now hear a strange gurgling tone. But then—"Hey, this is Emma. Leave a message." And then there was no sound.
"Now what? How do I leave you a message?"
"Hang up."
"Swan, that was bloody pointless."
"No, listen." She did something with her own device and then gave it to him.
"You have one new message," the device told him in an unnerving voice. "To listen to your messages, press one."
"You have to press one," Swan repeated. He lowered the device—phone, what a ridiculous term—and did so.
"Now what? How do I leave you a message?"
"Hang up."
"To delete this message, press one."
"See?" Swan took the phone back from him. "So if I don't answer, you can just leave a message."
"How do I retrieve my own messages?"
"It's complicated. You don't have to worry about that."
"But what shall you do if you need to contact me and I'm … in the shower?" He grinned.
She rolled her eyes. "I'll text you."
"Again, Swan, you know I've no clue what you mean."
"Okay, go to your home screen—press this to go back to the main screen. Good. Now, see this thing that says 'messages?'"
"Aye."
"Go in there. Now, new message. Choose a recipient."
"You, of course."
"Of course. Yeah, just type my name."
"And now?"
"Write me something."
"Anything?"
"Yeah, I guess."
You look especially beautiful today. It took a while to type, especially since he had to balance the device on his knee to do so. He suspected he would be leaving verbal messages for Swan as opposed to this variety.
"And then?"
"Send."
The message remained on his screen, but had now moved to a different position. Meanwhile, Swan's phone buzzed once, and she blushed and scoffed before tapping at it.
You can't just send a normal message? appeared below his initial one.
"Ah, this is quite clever!" Why would I when you become even more appealing with pink in your cheeks? She groaned. "What's this over here?" He tapped what appeared to be a smiling circle. "Ah, never mind." He tapped a few more times.
"Did you seriously send me a winking emoji?"
"Apparently. Is there a more salacious one?"
"No, thank god."
She then showed him how to change the volume the of the device, and the advantages and disadvantages of silencing it. Along the way, she described the vibrate setting, and when he made a somewhat crass quip about some other uses for such a device, she had an unusual reaction.
The Emma Swan he climbed the beanstalk with would have rolled her eyes, shut him down, and then either gone silent or changed the subject. The Emma Swan he'd journeyed with in Neverland would have blinked at him a few times, also rolled her eyes, and then walked away, possibly after reminding him that she wasn't interested in bonding.
The eyeroll was, of course, classic Emma Swan behavior, and so of course, she rolled her eyes. But she also blushed. She chuckled. And she elbowed him gently. It was quite unexpected; what was going through her head?
"Anyway," she said, getting back to the subject at hand, "this thing has something called a battery, and you have to, uh, fill it with electricity." She pointed at a symbol. "That's the battery symbol and it tells you what percent you have left. This is at ninety-six percent because I charged it for you already. I'll show you how to charge it—uh, fill it with electricity, I guess."
The charger, as she'd termed it, looked a bit familiar. As she demonstrated how to use it, he realized why: it was similar to the shaver in the bathroom. David had mentioned, a year ago, that the shaver ran on electricity as well; it had to sit in the base to charge, and the base had to be connected to the wall. At least there was some consistency with this whole electricity business.
She next had him attempt to attach the phone to the charger, which was easier said than done with one hand. Eventually, he managed by holding the phone flat on the dresser with his hook, and then fitting the tiny metal end of the charger into the impossibly small hole at the base of the phone. In response, the phone's screen flashed, and a lightning bolt appeared where the charge percentage was.
"Good. So if I were you, I'd let it charge whenever you're in here, to make sure it stays charged. You should always have it with you when you leave, just in case. Pretty much everyone has their phones on them these days, so it would be weird if you didn't. Oh, and don't get it wet! A little rain is fine, but like … don't drop it off a boat."
He winced, reminded of the loss of the Jolly Roger, but he hoped she was too busy removing his phone from the charger to notice. "All right! Any other questions?" She handed the device back to him.
"Aye. When I was in New York City last year, a woman used one of these to … take a photo of me."
"What? Why? That's creepy."
"No, it was actually—it doesn't matter. Can these be used to do that? I admit, I was confused."
"Yeah, you can use it as a camera," she said, nodding.
"How?"
She took his phone again, disconnecting it from the charger, and showed him how to access an image reading Camera. Soon enough, the screen disappeared. It wasn't entirely transparent—the image below was distorted and discolored—but he was seeing through the screen. "Bloody hell."
"So, get whatever you want a photo of on the screen, and then click that."
Thinking quickly, he held up the phone so that Swan's face filled the screen, and pressed the button. Her surprised and confused face remained frozen on the screen, even as she rolled her eyes and huffed. "Jesus, Hook."
"You said 'whatever you want a photo of,'" he reminded her.
"Here, give me that. Ugh, I look terrible." But her cheeks turned pink again.
"You do not."
She tapped at his phone before holding it up in front of her, staring at it with what could be described as fond irritation, and then handing it back. "There, much better." She'd somehow captured a picture of herself. "You can make that my contact picture."
"How?"
"I'll do it." A few more taps and she was finished. "Now when I call you, that'll appear on the screen."
"Brilliant. But perhaps I should reciprocate. May I?"
"Really?"
"Why not?"
She shrugged before tapping at her phone and handing it to him. Now, he could see his own devilishly handsome face on the screen, again distorted. He made an appropriately smoldering smirk before tapping what was very obviously the camera button and handing the device back. She had an eyebrow raised at him, but she didn't speak as she finished using the device.
"So what now?" he asked.
"I guess we go investigate," she said. She sighed and sat back down on the bed before letting herself fall backwards. "I hate not knowing where to start. At least with bail bonds, I have some information to go on."
"Perhaps we can speak with the dwarves," he suggested. "They might be able to give us more information with regards to how their brothers vanished."
"Yeah, maybe." Her device began to vibrate, and she chuckled. "Practicing already? I like the dedication there."
But it was her father's face that appeared on her screen. "That's not me, love."
"Oh." She sounded disappointed before she answered the call. "Hey, David, what's up?" He couldn't hear the prince's reply very clearly, but the man's voice sounded alarmed. Emma's brows shot up. "Okay, we'll be right there." Her eyes flicked to his. "Hook."
With that, she ended the call. "Well, looks like we've got something to investigate after all." For someone who had been bemoaning the lack of a lead, she looked exceptionally displeased to have been granted one.
But he understood why. Whatever they'd been heading towards when Pan's curse had torn them apart, they were back on track. She was connecting with him, enjoying herself with him, and while she might not be actively flirting with him, she was certainly permitting him to flirt with her.
Emma Swan was fond of him. She was beginning to see him as he really was—just a man, a man who cared for her—and not some sort of fairytale pest. Perhaps that was why she was so keen on seeing him in attire typical of this world, so that she would feel less conflicted about letting herself feel something for him.
Well then. If Swan was growing to care for him, one thing was for sure: he was going to do everything he could to encourage her. After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wanted deserved what he got.
"Well, love," he said, slipping his new device into his coat and holding out his hand to her, "I suppose we should go see what the trouble is."
