Hook + French fries


Killian wondered whether or not he would ever stop feeling anxious around Henry. He supposed he might eventually; the lad's memories would return at some point. Then he could stop pretending he wasn't Captain bloody Hook, and he could be more truthful about his relationship with Neal.

But perhaps Henry would have some strong feelings about Captain Hook pursuing his mother, especially given said captain's history with his father. And grandfather. Especially since, in this world, Captain Hook was a villainous character, and though Killian considered himself a changed man, his past was far from clean.

He'd initially been inclined to believe that it wouldn't be an issue; the afternoon and evening they spent together after Neal's funeral had gone smoothly enough. Henry seemed to appreciate what little Killian could tell him about his father, and he even seemed to enjoy sailing quite a bit.

Today, however, had been a different story.

They'd spend the morning on the same boat that he'd managed to commandeer the last time; the owner seemed amenable enough when Killian slipped him some additional gold. Henry even remembered some of the knots he'd learned before, and he'd even been pleased when, after he'd made a small mistake, Killian recounted that Neal had made the very same one regularly.

But throughout the experience, Henry seemed quieter than usual, and a little frustrated. Killian had tried once or twice to suss out the truth of the boy's subdued nature, to no avail. Fortunately, the time he spent with young Baelfire proved useful; he knew to back down and let Henry deal with his own emotions for now.

When they returned to shore—the boat's owner had plans to go fishing this time, and so he and Henry would have to find some other way to spend the afternoon—Henry suggested they head to the diner for lunch. Regarding the location of the meal, Killian was more than happy to oblige; while most of the establishments in Storybrooke did accept gold as payment, Granny's was the only one that allowed him to run up a tab. Granted, the Widow Lucas was attempting to bleed him dry with how much she was charging him for a room, but for now, he would just be grateful that he could pay for the meal without Henry seeing him hand over doubloons.

The downside, however, to eating at the diner was eating at the diner. He'd been having an incredibly unpleasant time with the cuisine since he'd arrived in the Land Without Magic, and the diner had been, more than once, a scene of misery and woe.

During his initial stint here in Storybrooke, when he'd arrived with Cora, he'd eaten very little. There had been the food in the hospital, but all he could recall was that he'd eaten at some point, and not at all what it was that he'd eaten. Besides that, he'd subsisted on apples stolen from Regina's tree and the fish he'd managed to catch with a makeshift lure. That had been enough for him, given that he'd been trying very hard to focus on his revenge and nothing else.

When he'd returned from Neverland, he'd tried the local fare for the first time, having the pancakes that David had recommended. They'd been much too sweet for him, although he'd suffered no ill effects.

Now, however, not only did he have to eat the modern food constantly, but he also frequently had to hide his lack of familiarity with it from Henry. Unable to ask Swan what the various dishes were, or have her warn him regarding the edibility of specific foods, he had to guess at what he should eat. And, fool that he was, he often found himself too proud to tell Swan that he even needed help knowing what to eat. How could he possibly tell the object of his unrequited affection that he was frequently ill due to his new diet?

And so the end result was that his entire digestive system seemed to be staging a mutiny.

He was trying, though. For breakfast, he stuck to porridge or dry toast or eggs, and if he was alone midday, he simply skipped that meal. Supper was often difficult, since he almost always ate it with Swan and Henry and the rest of the Charming clan, but his current solution was to eat whatever Regina was eating.

Initially, he'd mirrored Swan instead, believing that she wouldn't steer him wrong; if they were at Granny's, he'd order what she'd order, and if they were at the loft, he'd take spoonfuls of the same dishes. It was always a mistake, though; she enjoyed a lot of very rich, heavy foods that overwhelmed his tastebuds and left him feeling as though his body had been filled with lead.

With Henry, now, he wasn't sure what exactly to do. He hadn't eaten lunch at Granny's since the first full day they'd been in town, and then, he'd eaten the warm, cheese-filled sandwich that Swan had also ordered. The menu was different from the one handed out at suppertime, so he couldn't just order the dinner salad Regina typically got.

But he had no choice but to order something, or risk looking strange in front of Henry. And given Henry's behavior all morning, that wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

They quietly sat down in a booth; Ruby came over immediately with some glasses of water. "What can I get you guys?" She smiled warmly at Henry, but when she turned to look at Killian, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. He wasn't surprised; they were all on edge right now, with Neal dead and Zelena still at large, motive (or motives) unknown. Ruby might have to put on a happy, friendly face for the oblivious Henry, but not for him.

"Can I get a burger and fries, and a hot cocoa?" Henry asked.

"Sure thing! How do you want your burger?"

"Medium well."

"And cinnamon on that cocoa, right?"

"Right," Henry replied. He looked suspicious.

"And for you? Killian?"

"I'll have the same thing, but coffee instead," he replied. He hadn't had a burger or fries yet. It couldn't be worse than anything else he'd ingested lately. He knew already that Swan and Henry's favorite beverage, hot cocoa with cinnamon, was much too sweet for him; coffee, at least, was something he'd enjoyed for years. It was a pleasure to consume it with such regularity.

"So," Henry said slowly, as he played with the paper wrapping from the drinking straw in his water. "Do you know my mom because of my dad?"

Killian supposed he should have expected the question given the situation. He'd just told Henry about how he'd known Neal as a boy; why wouldn't Henry assume that this was how he knew Emma as well? And yet he was still blindsided by the question.

He felt bad lying to the lad any more than he had to, for Swan's sake; he'd fibbed a bit regarding how old he himself had been when he'd taught Neal to sail, and he'd felt guilty about that. Now what was he to do? The answer was, in fact, no, that his relationship with Swan was merely coincidence, as unlikely as it was. But then he'd have to explain how he knew her, and his mind was completely blank when it came to determining a good lie for that.

"Aye, sort of. It's complicated."

"Really?" Henry asked skeptically. "How?"

"Well, I knew your father first, and then I met your mother long after he and I had fallen out of touch." So far so good; Henry was nodding along. "It was only after she and I met that I learned of their past relationship. We were both quite startled at the coincidence." Not exactly true; they'd never really discussed it. But it was a little odd, when he thought about it.

"Did you ever see him again."

"I did. Not for very long, but yes."

"Did my mom?"

"I …" He could imagine Swan overhearing this conversation. Her eyes would widen, her mouth would open but she wouldn't speak, and her hands would reach out slightly as though she were capable of halting speech magically (and who knew? Perhaps by the end of her lessons with Regina, she would be). "Henry, I don't think it's my place to talk about your mother."

The lad's expression grew sullen; he'd clearly been trying to suss out this information from Swan, and after little success, had thought Killian would give it to him more readily. "Look, I just don't get it, okay? All my life, I get this story about my dad: he was a thief, my mom fell in love with him, and then he set her up for stealing some watches and disappeared forever. I saw how much it hurt her, you know?

"And then suddenly, we're in this town in the middle of nowhere, and not only is my dad here, but he dies the week we get here and my mom is all broken up about it. Actually, everyone's broken up about it. And now I'm hearing that he was actually a decent guy, and I want to believe that. I just don't get it."

Henry fell silent and stared at the table in front of them. It was Killian's cue to speak, but what could he really say? He couldn't tell Henry the truth; Swan's wrath if he did so would be the stuff of legend. Nor could he tell Henry to be patient regarding an answer; it was true, given that Henry would understand when he regained his memories, but twelve-year-old children weren't amenable to being told to wait.

"People are complex," he said. "Truth be told, neither one of your parents has been very forthright with me about the details of their shared history, especially not your father. But what's important, Henry, is that people aren't good or evil. We've all done things we regret, and we're all capable of doing the right thing. What your father did to your mother is something he always regretted; that I know for sure. As does she. But it's not something she knew until very recently. She wasn't hiding anything from you, Henry."

Henry snorted, but before Killian could request a clarification, their meals arrived. He was dismayed to find that a burger was the meal he'd eaten during their car ride to Storybrooke. It wasn't identical, to be sure, and it certainly smelled better, but he now deeply regretted his decision. Henry, meanwhile, simply began to eat. Killian supposed he should do the same to avoid making Henry even more suspicious.

To his relief, this version of a burger was actually palatable. In fact, he was surprised to find that he actually enjoyed it. The meat was well-seasoned and juicy, and far less greasy than the first incarnation he'd encountered; the bread was toasted on the interior; the sauce complemented the meat quite well; and there were even some fresh vegetables to give the whole thing a delightful crisp. So why on earth had they eaten such a foul version before when this existed?

He finished half of his burger before setting it down, reasoning that he wanted to give his stomach a chance to decide how to respond to the meal before subjecting it to the rest. Henry mirrored his actions before taking a sip of cocoa. "My mom is definitely hiding something from me," he said, picking up the conversation where it had left off.

"She can't talk about the case," he reminded him.

"No, but she could talk about Walsh. And she hasn't mentioned him at all since we left New York."

Bloody hell, Walsh. Of course Henry would be suspicious. "She hasn't spoken about him very much with me either," he said. It was true, and perhaps it would show Henry that he wasn't the only person whom Swan didn't confide in about her former lover.

Henry just snorted. "Well, obviously. I might be twelve, but I know you're not supposed to talk about exes."

That was a strange rule. As far as social mores went in the Enchanted Forest, speaking of past loves was only bad form if you were only just embarking on a new—oh.

"Henry, your mother and I aren't romantically involved," he said firmly. Henry lifted an eyebrow, silently challenging that statement. "We're friends, and I care about her very much, but that's the extent of our relationship."

"Yeah, right."

"That's enough." Henry winced outwardly, and Killian himself did so internally. It had been ages—centuries, really—since he'd had to interact with a child on a regular basis, and even then, he'd rarely lost his patience with Baelfire. But Henry's attitude left much to be desired, and there was no subtle way of indicating that.

"I understand that you're frustrated with your mother at the moment, and you feel as though she's hiding information from you that you're entitled to know. Perhaps you are entitled to know. But I am not going to betray your mother's trust, either by sharing information that she's asked me to keep to myself or by speculating regarding her motives and desires.

"Your mother is doing her best right now, during trying circumstances, and you would do well to remember that and respect that. She loves you, and she's just trying to protect you and be a good parent. The least you can do is give her the benefit of the doubt for the time being."

The lad remained silent, his face initially screwing up with anger before turning red. His face fell a bit, and he stared at his meal.

Killian wasn't sure what else to say, and instead opted to return to his burger. It had grown a little cold, but was still quite delicious. Henry seemed to sense that the particular conversation he'd wanted to have was now over, and he also resumed eating.

His burger now finished, Killian turned to the fries. He wasn't quite sure what they were, exactly, but given that the burger had been better than he'd expected, it seemed a tad cowardly not to try them.

Oh! They were cut and fried potatoes! Well, that was something he was happy to enjoy. He moved to break the stony silence that had set in. "These are excellent."

"Yeah, they're good," Henry replied sullenly before he ate one of his own fries.

He thought back to the occasions where Baelfire's teenaged moods got the best of him. Talking over the situation was never useful, resulting in the boy only becoming more uncommunicative. Letting him stew for a bit was a hit or miss technique, since sometimes Bae would simply become more and more convinced that he'd been treated unfairly. Changing the subject worked occasionally, as it seemed to be now, but how much could the two of them discuss fried potatoes?

The idea occurred to him as Ruby came to clear away the now-empty dishes from their burgers. "Actually, Henry, these fries are so delicious that I think I'd like to have some of yours."

Henry frowned. "You haven't even finished yours."

"Aye, but I have a feeling I'll want more than my share."

The lad seemed to catch on. "Maybe I'll want more than my share. So what are we gonna do about it?"

Killian fished around one of his coat pockets for a pair of dice. "A simple game," he said, holding them up. "We each roll, and the higher number gets one of his opponent's fries."

"Isn't it random?"

"I suppose. Care to find out?"

"You're on."

With a quick shake of the dice, he could tell he'd grabbed his favorite loaded pair. The loading mechanism wasn't subtle, but a beginner like Henry wouldn't know just how to shake them to load or unload them, nor would he be able to tell the difference between the two states.

For now, though, he'd keep the dice balanced; it would be bad form to cheat against the lad when the whole purpose of the exercise was to get his mind off of Swan's cloak-and-dagger business.

And even if Henry was a little angry with him for not giving Swan up, or for replacing Walsh (as inaccurate as that was—and as much as Killian wished it weren't inaccurate), he wanted to have a good relationship with the lad. Even if Swan's feelings never changed (granted, he was reasonably sure of her feelings; it was her stubborn nature and stunning levels of denial that were the real issues), he wanted to get to know the boy who was Neal's son—Baelfire's son—and Milah's grandson. Henry was a bright and curious young man, born to an unusual birthright and raised in even more unusual circumstances; it was worth getting to know him for his own sake.

And, Killian mused as Henry rolled another ten to his own six, perhaps the boy was as good at dice as his father was. Time to load the dice.