A big thank you to all those of you who have... been patient.
So, after an eventful night and following morning of thorough pillaging and plundering, Emma is ready to go back to business as usual and be the sheriff again. Let's see how that evolves.
Chapter 5:
You Can Say Boyfriend
Emma slept a few hours then got up shortly after noon feeling surprisingly refreshed and relishing the tender happiness which touched a smile to her lips even before her eyes opened. She wasn't used to this; a fragile yet thrilling sort of bliss danced across her conscience and tapped against her heart, making her anxious about breaking the tenuous hold of such a perfect moment. Peeking through her lashes, she felt a slight pang of disappointment at finding herself in her own bed…alone. With a sigh, she stretched her limbs, but grinned again when a few aching muscles protested. After a few minutes of replaying the incredible amorous delights of the past night and that morning in her head, no, reliving them, she threw the sheets back reluctantly and got up. If she had to get out of bed, at least she knew that more delights were to follow, and soon. Already the thought made her insides quiver.
No, she corrected herself mentally while she brushed her teeth; the best thing about this new development was that she'd found her True Love, unbelievable as it seemed. In Killian Jones, in Captain Hook… they were one and the same to her and always would be. When she looked at the man she loved, one persona couldn't be processed without the other; like two sides of the same coin. And she couldn't – wouldn't want to – imagine him any other way. Inseparably interwoven, just as this new found love they shared. In the end, however, he'd done the same for her as she'd done for him: he'd made her truly believe in herself – maybe for the first time – and given her a chance to believe in love again. They were really and truly soul mates. Mates. Yes, he would like that. She smiled to herself once more as she heard his voice in her head, pronouncing the old-fashioned word – one of his favorites – in that adorable accent of his.
Despite all his roguishness, at times even ruthlessness, that damn pirate had imperturbably boarded her heart without any trickery and cast anchor there so thoroughly and firmly that it could never be removed again.
After freshening up a little, Emma rummaged through her closet and decided to put on a short skirt, successfully convincing herself that it had nothing to do with her brand new boyfriend but just with the fact that she was fed up with winter. With her black New York heels and a spring in her step she went downstairs, trying not to be noisy, in case her baby brother was sleeping. But obviously, nobody was home.
She spotted a note on the table, written in Mary Margaret's elegant, slightly old-fashioned handwriting: "I'm taking Neal to his 1 week check-up. Sandwiches for you & your father in the fridge. Love, M."
Emma smiled fondly. M as in Mary Margaret? Mom? Ah, how wonderful to finally have one. She grabbed the paper bag from the fridge and left the apartment. While she headed downstairs, she fished out her cell phone from her purse and dialed a number.
"Yes?" a smoky, slightly haughty female voice answered.
"Hi Regina, it's Emma," she said brightly. "Could I speak to Henry, please?"
Her former enemy cleared her throat. "Ah... Henry isn't here right now. He..." She paused, obviously looking for the right words – something that normally wasn't Regina at all. "Robin took Roland to the woods, and they asked Henry if he'd like to come along," she explained a little hastily and added almost reluctantly: "I hope you don't mind."
"No, that's fine, really," Emma replied. "I mean, I haven't known him for a long time, but from what I saw, he seems to be a decent man." She surprised herself by adding: "If you say he's good, that's good enough for me, I guess. I trust you."
"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything..." Regina tried to play it cool, but Emma knew her well enough to detect the – pleased – surprise in her rich voice, too.
She smiled to herself. "Yeah..."
"So..." Regina pulled herself together again after her minimalistic display of friendliness, "...as I'm not sure when they'll be back, I'll drop by later and..."
"No, that won't be necessary," Emma interrupted quickly and went on in a more serious tone, "Henry might not fully realize it yet, but he missed an entire year with you. He needs to spend more time with you. We'll work out an arrangement, when everything's settled down again, if that's okay with you."
"Of course that's okay with me," Regina replied and added after a little pause: "Henry told me you're not planning to go back to New York anymore?"
Although the other woman couldn't see her, Emma smiled and nodded. "Yes, that's right."
"And is there any chance of you changing your mind... again?" There was only the slightest trace of sarcasm in Regina's voice.
"No, you don't have to worry," Emma assured a little ruefully. "My journey has come to an end. My home is here. So is Henry's."
"Well, in that case..." Regina added a little regal snark to her voice, but again, Emma could tell it didn't have the sharp, bitter edge of past times. "Welcome to Storybrooke, Miss Swan."
She shook her head and grinned. "Thanks, Madam Mayor."
Regina cleared her throat again. "So, I'll have Henry call you when he's back."
"That would be great." Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind, and before she could think it through, the words tumbled from her mouth: "Oh, and Regina... do you think we could maybe resume the... lessons?"
If Regina was surprised, she didn't show it. "It would be irresponsible not to," was her verdict. "We'll talk about that soon."
Emma said her good bye and hung up, asking herself what she had just done and why, while she climbed into her bug. Emma Swan, the greatest skeptic and most reluctant possessor of magic, wanting to understand it and learn its proper use? But then, she admitted to herself, it was only the logical consequence of what Hook had taught her, had pushed her to accept: this was her home, where she belonged and who she was, and she needed to embrace it. She smiled to herself again – how many times now? – when she realized that, sooner or later, all her thoughts always reverted back to him.
Five minutes later, she parked in front of the police station and entered the building. David was going through some files and almost jumped when she breezed in. "Emma! I didn't even expect you here today," he exclaimed.
"Well, I'm still the sheriff, I guess," she replied with a touch of uncertainty.
"Of course! I'm just..." He motioned vaguely to the papers on his desk. "Trying to reconnect. It's been a year for me, too."
"I know..." For a moment, grief over the once again lost time flooded Emma's heart, but she pushed it aside with determination. The important thing was that she and Henry were reunited with their family now; they would find their way together. She smiled and waved the paper bag from side to side. "Lunch time!"
David frowned. "You made sandwiches?"
She laughed. "No, mom did." It still felt unusual to say it, but not in an unpleasant way.
He beamed, obviously pleased with her choice of words. They sat down and ate while David filled her in on the current investigations, which were not many, really. Obviously, Storybrooke was a rather peaceful town as long as there wasn't any suspicious magical nonsense going on. Speaking of which...
"So, I still don't know what happened to Zelena," Emma prompted after they finished their lunch. "Did you find anything out yet?"
David shook his head. "It's very mysterious, to say the least." Emma raised a questioning eyebrow, and he went on. "It looks like she committed suicide somehow."
"What do you mean, somehow?" Emma asked pointedly. "That sounds suspicious."
"No, well, she did kill herself," David confirmed. "We saw it. We saw the surveillance tape, I mean," he explained.
"But she was locked up, wasn't she? Then how did she do it?" Emma questioned.
"That's the mysterious part," he replied, and they went over to the monitor.
After watching the part of the video where Zelena shattered into pieces a few times, Emma shook her head. "There's something that's not right here." She threw her father a probing stare. "We have to find out what really happened. I have no interest in discovering what other surprises might've been triggered by her death – if she truly is dead."
David frowned. "What do you mean, if?"
Emma threw her hands in the air. "I have no idea!" she almost snapped in exasperation. "I'm still new to all this!" She was pacing back and forth. "We have to search the town and the woods, go back to her house. Who knows what else she had in store just waiting for someone to stumble across? The portal was bad enough. I just have a bad gut feeling."
Her father nodded. "I'm just glad you weren't alone," he commented with a meaningful undertone.
That threw her off track a little; she couldn't help but smile to herself. "Yeah," she murmured.
Switching off the monitor, David remarked almost casually, "Hook's alright."
Emma nodded, not really surprised by her father's attitude. She knew his point of view about Hook had started to change gradually quite some time ago, even as far back as Neverland. Still, she was glad that he didn't resent the shift in her relationship with the handsome scoundrel. "Yes, he is."
He threw her a probing sideways glance. "He cares a lot about you."
She turned to face him and smiled. "I know... dad."
David drew a deep breath. He saw his daughter's smile, and was thrilled to see the happiness shining behind it – unlike many times before, when in spite of a smile blooming on her lips, there had always been a faint but unmistakable trace of sadness in her eyes. But this was still Emma Swan, lost girl, with walls higher than those of Jericho. She deserved to keep that happiness within her, and he would do everything he could to make sure she embraced it, even if it did take a one-handed pirate to make her happy. The man wasn't so bad, after all.
"Emma," he began, "I know you have a hard time when it comes to letting people come close to you... especially those you care about." He tilted his head in a way that mirrored Hook's trademark gesture in a startling way. "And I know you do care about him. But..."
She understood what he was doing and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Dad," she interrupted and leaned a little forward, scrutinizing him closely to make sure he didn't miss the meaning of her words. "I'm done running, really. And yes, I do care about him." She drew a deep breath and added almost shyly: "A lot. And I trust him." She smiled again. "Completely."
David returned her smile and nodded. "I'd never have thought I'd say this, but – so do I." The moment the words had left his mouth, however, he shot his index finger at her like a bullet. "Don't you ever tell the pirate I said that."
Emma grinned. "My lips are sealed," she promised and winked. "However, you're not good at hiding it anyway." David huffed theatrically, and she nudged him playfully. "Looks like you're... mates now?"
He shrugged grumpily. "Well, given the latest... events, it would certainly make things easier, wouldn't it?"
"I'd say so," Emma agreed.
For the better part of the afternoon, they tossed around theories on what had actually happened in Zelena's cell, puzzling over how she'd managed to kill herself magically since by taking away her pendant Regina had supposedly taken away her magic; had some of it remained? And if she'd still had magic, why hadn't she used it to free herself? Both law enforcers had the gut feeling that the Zelena affair was far from over yet. Calling for a break, David left for a moment to pick up some really good coffee at Granny's – as the coffee machine in the sheriff's office had seen better days. Emma sighed and rewatched the tape for about the fiftieth time that day, or so it seemed to her, but for the life of her she couldn't detect anything new and leaned back in her chair with a frustrated huff, switching the monitor off.
"There's something that doesn't match," she threw over her shoulder without looking when she heard the door open, "but I can't figure out what it is."
"Match what?" came the prompt reply, and her head flipped around at the sound of the voice.
"Hook!" she exclaimed in surprise when she saw the man in black standing in the door – devastatingly handsome, as always, twinkling eyes, smiling broadly, his left arm slightly bent at the elbow in his typical posture with the shimmering hook nonchalantly resting against his silver belt buckle. Her stomach started to flutter immediately, and somehow that annoyed her. "What are you doing here?" she asked a little defensively as she quickly got to her feet.
She was used to him being her shadow, of course; used to him appearing – sometimes out of the blue – right beside her no matter where or when she might find herself in need. And although she'd always felt a certain undeniable kind of attraction drawing her towards him – she could finally admit it – she'd never felt like this in his presence: all flustered with butterflies invading her stomach, hot lead flowing through her veins, eyes inevitably drawn to his face, his lips… her knees slightly shaky and her palms damp. The sensations were somehow clouding her brain and her judgment, and that was highly confusing because it had never happened to her before. Ever. All she had to do was look at him and she could barely suppress the urge to walk up to him, entangle her hands in his unruly hair and pull him in for a deep kiss. Automatically, her fingers curled into fists. That would have to wait. Alas, the thought alone was enough to make her pulse quicken. But she really didn't need this distraction right now. Wanting it was an entirely different notion.
Hook cocked his head and raised his eyebrows teasingly, accompanied by his heart-stopping grin. Not helping, Emma thought in frustration. "Why, isn't there someone pleased to see me?" he drawled with perfectly well-dosed teasing in his voice. Innocent as his statement was, he still managed to make it sound suggestive. That upset her even more, because it wasn't the time or place, no matter how tempting he was – her father could be back any minute.
She took a step closer to him and lowered her voice menacingly. "I'm at work," she pointed out.
He stepped even closer, of course – welcome to my personal space, she thought grimly – and lowered his voice, too... somehow, though, his tone didn't sound menacing at all, more like liquid chocolate that she desperately wanted to taste on her tongue. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. Not helping at all! "And I came here to help," he replied and smirked. "What did you think I had in mind, Swan?"
"This is not the place!" Emma hissed. "I'm serious!"
"Here we go!" David's voice announced brightly as he threw the door open, carrying two Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Hook standing there.
Quickly, Emma stepped back again and turned to David; she felt like she'd been caught red-handed doing something wicked, although she hadn't done anything in the least bit debatable – well, maybe in her mind, but her father couldn't possibly know that, could he? She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Look who's here. Your new best mate!"
For maybe a second or two, David had the tiniest moment of irrationally wanting to punch Hook hard right in his handsome face – this was solely due to his instinctive knowledge of what had happened the night before between the pirate and his daughter, his little girl after all, even if he had known her only as a grown woman. He saw that she was happy and finally seemed to have found some peace and also love, and he knew that this man was far from perfect, but just right for her. He'd even encouraged her to allow herself that happiness earlier that afternoon, encouraging her to allow Hook to make her happy; but still, knowing they'd been in an intimate situation riled him up – a feeling every father would understand. But it was over as fast as it had come, and he gave the pirate a short, but nevertheless welcoming nod.
Hook raised his eyebrows again, in a clueless way this time, his bright blue eyes dancing to and fro between Emma and David, accompanied by his gesturing hand. "Did I miss something?" he questioned.
David put the coffee down on his desk and shook his head, ignoring Emma's eye roll, and asked: "What's up? Any news?"
Hook scratched behind his ear. "Actually, I was hoping you had some for me," he started. "Thought you could fill me in about the Wicked Witch's death." Emma and David exchanged a glance. Hook tilted his head in a shrug and explained: "I mean, I'd hate to stumble over any other legacy of hers... that portal was bad enough. We should at least check her former lair to make sure she didn't have..." – he waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture – "...anything else in store, shouldn't we?"
Despite her earlier annoyance, Emma suppressed a smile. It still worked; she and Hook, they were thinking alike. David wasn't oblivious to that, either, and turned to her with a grin. "That's a really plausible thought, isn't it, Emma?" he asked, amusement heavily lacing his suggestion.
She rolled her eyes again, at both men this time, and turned to Hook, nodding towards the desk with the monitor. "Come on, I'll show you the tape," she told him gruffly, while David suppressed a laugh and went back to his files with his coffee.
"The... tape?" he echoed in a completely clueless voice, and she enjoyed it – like always when that happened – to see her blatantly self-confident pirate getting all insecure about stuff he didn't understand. He was simply... cute, for lack of a better word.
She nodded. "Yes. We can watch the exact moment Zelena died." She motioned to the monitor again.
Hook narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Is this some sort of magic like The Dark One's orb?" he asked and tilted his head. "You're getting quite fond of that stuff, aren't you?"
She shook her head. "That's not magic. It's..." she waved her hand impatiently. "…too complicated for now. Here, look at this." She pointed to the camera. "Let's say this is something like a... a technical eye," she tried to explain. "It sort of... conserves what it sees. And then we can watch that..." – she pointed to the monitor again – "...here."
Hook's eyes darted from the monitor to the "technical eye" and back again. Things he didn't understand had always made him nervous. "Bloody hell," he grumbled. "That is magic."
Emma grinned, already pacified. "I see it will be fun to introduce you to modern times," she teased.
Hook threw her a suggestive glance, suddenly all dashing rapscallion again. "Oh, I'm sure you can make it fun, Swan..." his eyes locked with hers, and his wicked tongue darted out quickly, moistening his full bottom lip.
She blushed and slapped his leather-clad shoulder. "Just sit down and watch," she growled.
Obediently, he slumped down on the chair. "Such a commanding attitude," he murmured in an amused voice, raised an eyebrow at her and added with a wolfish grin: "I'll let that pass... for now." With the last words, his voice dropped a few notes and his sapphire eyes pierced hers with a quiet, wanton promise that made her blush deepen and her breath quicken.
Emma rolled her eyes and then averted them, cleared her throat and switched the monitor on again, acting deliberately all business-like. Hook let that pass, too; he just secretly grinned to himself, enjoying the happiness flooding through his veins. Of course he'd known for a long time that his Swan had felt the same attraction towards him as he'd felt for her, even if she'd refused to accept it. He'd also known that, moreover, she had feelings for him – of course she hadn't accepted those for a long time either. But now, that she had, it seemed like all dams had been broken, and obviously she wasn't capable of suppressing her feelings around him any longer. And although he hadn't commented on it, of course it hadn't gone unnoticed by his skilled eye that he hadn't seen Emma Swan wear a skirt – a very short skirt – in a very long time. Now suddenly, she was back to that – rather dashing – fashion again? Coincidence? Hook grinned to himself. He'd never believed in coincidence; no, she'd definitely dressed like that because she desired to look extra lovely to his eyes. That elated him incredibly, but of course he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable about it – probably it would take her some time to get used to that, too.
He decided to watch the mocking and said with only mild teasing in his voice: "Alright, show me your magic then, Swan." Her head snapped around to him again, and she shot him adorable green daggers, so he raised his hand in a soothing gesture. "No pun intended," he added.
Emma narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him closely, but she saw that his smile was genuine and sweet, and bare of any lewdness… this time. She relaxed a little and smiled back.
"Okay, look here."
About an hour later, David was still studying old files, trying to get his slightly blurred memory set on that particular part of his life – the part of being a policeman – whereas Hook was still staring at the relatively small monitor, eyes squinted like he was at the helm of his ship, looking directly into the sun. This almost dice-shaped Storybrooke version of The Dark One's magic orb was still very suspicious to him. Although the mysterious device – that seemed so normal and everyday to his Swan and the prince – had shown him the moment of the Wicked Witch's death already a few times, he still couldn't wrap his mind around what actually had happened.
"Once more," he demanded.
Emma huffed. He'd made her replay the damn tape over and over again, and every time she'd bent forward to operate the recorder, he'd used the occasion to touch her – if on purpose or not, she couldn't even tell, but it was highly distracting, and she really didn't need that at work. Every brush of his knuckles on the back of her hand, every turning of his head in her direction, his nose almost touching her cheek, was too much. Let alone his intoxicating scent that filled her nostrils and made her head spin and evoked the almost irrepressible urge to jump the man's bones. This was ridiculous! How was any sane, hot-blooded, breathing female supposed to concentrate around him? Especially one that knew exactly what his skin tasted like and how he felt moving inside of her? She shoved the remote control into his hand.
"Just hit rewind, for heaven's sake!" she snapped.
"Hit?" he echoed with a frown. "But Swan, didn't you say this device is to be handled very delicately, like a woman's..."
"Dammit, Hook!" she interrupted and threw her hands up in exasperation. "You can navigate a freaking ship, you'll be able to handle this!"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why are you so upset, love?" he asked innocently. Then, he suddenly realized with his infallible instinct what was really bothering her and couldn't help but smirk. "I'm making you nervous!" he told her outright. It definitely wasn't a question.
"No, you're not!" she contradicted hotly, absolutely betraying herself with her insistence. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in complete mockery, like he was saying really?! Emma tried to save face and added a little haughtily: "Please. You've always been following me around, and you never made me nervous." She heard herself say: Please. You couldn't handle it. The tone of her voice now was the same as it had been then, and her words were just about as true.
He shook his head. "That was before we..." – he paused and took a moment to run his tongue along the inside of his bottom teeth – "...cast anchor."
"Hook!" she hissed sharply and threw a glance over her shoulder to see if her father had noticed anything, but David had his nose sill buried in his files and was doing a convincing job at being oblivious to their conversation.
Hook smirked again. "Besides," he went on in an almost triumphant voice, "We both know I made you nervous from the very first day we met. When you put your hand on my shoulder at the foot of that beanstalk, it was trembling." With the last word, his eyebrows twitched in a challenging way. Quickly, he grabbed her hand and held it firmly in his big one, her palm up, and stroked his ringed thumb slowly over the sensitive flesh of her palm. It was an almost casual gesture, but accompanied by a blatantly shameless, burning gaze and an almost obscene roll of his tongue. "Like this," he added in his husky voice. It felt like he was touching her directly where she'd started to ache for him. Emma blushed crimson and snatched her hand away.
"Stop that, Hook!" she growled. "My father's here!" She shoved him hard in the shoulder, making him protest.
David looked up from his paperwork just in the right moment to see his daughter's act of violence. "Come on, Emma," he chastised. "He's just trying to help."
Hook grinned but knew it was wiser to shut up now. Emma rolled her eyes and bent a little forward again, invading his personal space now which he noticed with some satisfaction. Ah, playing the innuendo game was so much more fun now that he knew where all those word plays, casual touches and suggestive glances would lead to in the end: a very willing Emma in his bed, squirming in his arms, sighing, gasping, crying out his name.
"And you didn't make me nervous," she muttered petulantly under her breath, "you got on my nerves. That's not the same thing."
Hook didn't reply; he just tilted his head and played with the remote control in his hand. Flustered, and pissed off because of it, Emma seized it away again and started to press buttons.
"Guys," David interrupted, "I think it's best if we take a break here for today. I don't think we'll find out anything more from the tape. We're stuck."
"I agree, mate," Hook nodded and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "I have the impression I wouldn't notice even if I saw anything."
"Then let's go," David suggested, and both men threw a questioning glance at Emma. She nodded, too, almost relieved to escape this situation that to her was still new and weird; she supposed she would get used to it, but she wasn't there yet.
Five minutes later, the three of them left the sheriff's office. David locked the door and turned to his daughter and her pirate boyfriend. "So, what are you guys up to?" he asked, casually addressing them as a couple. This, of course, didn't go unnoticed by the two. Hook was secretly pleased by the prince's attitude, whereas Emma was basically happy about her parents' final acceptance of the man she loved, but still felt that kind of awkwardness every daughter feels when she watches her first boyfriend interact with her parents. The afternoon spent in the company of the two men when she'd tried to adapt to her new role as a daughter and a lover had only added to that awkwardness. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the short black trench coat she'd chosen for the day.
"Oh, I think we'll just have some dinner over at Granny's..." She cleared her throat and went on: "Would you and Mary Margaret... mom... like to join us?" She threw a quick sideways glance at Hook to see his reaction. If he minded her inviting her parents for company, he didn't show it.
David raised both hands. "Oh, no, not today," he replied. "Mary Margaret had a bad night..." He shrugged. "The joys of parenthood."
For some reason, this remark made Emma feel even more awkward, and she quickly looked away from Hook and down at her feet. "Okay..." she murmured. "Well, then I guess we'll just..." She motioned vaguely towards herself, Hook and the direction where Granny's diner was. Her embarrassment seemed to suddenly rub off on Hook, and he shuffled his feet a little, hoping to get away soon. A faint blush swept over her cheeks and she added a little sheepishly: "I don't know, when..."
"Emma," David interrupted, "it's fine. I'll see you."
"Yeah," she nodded and was relieved to be able to head for her car.
Hook quickly turned on his heel to follow her, but stopped dead in his tracks when he felt David's hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed. Wonderful. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder. David gave him a serious, if not warning glance.
"I trust my daughter's safe with you," David remarked quietly. There was no question in his voice, and no rating. In spite of their friendly talk from the previous evening, Hook hadn't been so sure about David's attitude on the fact that, obviously, his daughter had spent the night with the pirate. But it appeared as if the prince wasn't going to lash out at him for that – more than that, he was practically giving him his approval.
Hook nodded. "You have my word," he replied almost solemnly.
"Good."
And with that, he turned around and walked over to his own car. Hook grinned to himself. Emma's father hadn't even thrown him so much as a menacing glance before accepting the word of a pirate for good. Damn that prince, he wasn't such a twit after all.
"Are you coming or what?" Emma called, sounding a little impatient.
"Oh, I'm definitely envisaging that, love," he muttered under his breath, choosing a more subtle double entendre to preserve sensibilities – after all, they were in a public place, and he did believe in good form, which also meant not embarrassing his lady in front of potential eavesdroppers.
When he climbed beside her in the bug – as usual, a little clumsily and reluctantly – she turned to him with a sigh. He looked at her with an expectant little smile that made nothing but her heart flutter, and she asked herself once more what exactly that man was doing to her, what spell he had cast. All embarrassment and uneasiness had vanished as David got into his own car and driven past them with a smile and a wave.
"I'm sorry if I was edgy," she sighed.
Hook smiled with only the smallest tease. "Not at all, love," he replied, waving his hand through the air as if he was tenderly following the curve of a woman's body. "Let me assure you that you've the softest contours of any..."
Emma tore her eyes away from his meandering hand with some effort and couldn't help but smirk. "Hook," she interrupted softly, and he fell silent when he saw her shining green eyes look directly into his and noticed that her demeanor had switched back from tense to normal.
He raised his left arm and smoothed out her hair with his hook, stroking it behind her shoulder. "What?" he asked with tenderness in his eyes.
"This is all new for me," she told him, and he didn't inquire what she meant because he understood exactly. He just tilted his head a little to indicate that he was listening. "I never was a lover... and a daughter at the same time," she explained and swallowed as she realized once more how fundamentally her life had changed in the past few days. The once lost girl had finally found her home in more ways than one. Hook could read the emotions on her face so clearly it almost hurt because he could relate so much, having been a lost and lonely soul for centuries himself. He resisted the urge to touch her though; he knew she needed to talk first.
"Although I'm a grown woman and a mother myself," she went on with a shrug, "I feel like a schoolgirl who's bringing her boyfriend home to her parents for the first time." She scrutinized him closely, searching for understanding in his eyes, and it didn't surprise her at all to find it there; he of all people had always understood her, after all. Open book. Still, she felt a bit ridiculous and smiled sheepishly.
He leaned a little forward and looked at her from under his thick eyebrows in his typical way. "Be careful whom you call a boy here, Swan," he teased slowly with that rich, dark nuance to his voice that was enough to make her toes curl, and the emotionally loaded moment had passed, once more leaving room for light and playful bantering between lovers.
Emma's eyes were drawn to his mouth, like so often, and she smiled and braced the remaining space between them, brushing her lips over his mouth quickly. "It's just a saying," she whispered against his slightly parted lips and added wickedly: "And yes, you do make me nervous. I have the most embarrassing feeling that when my father sees us together, he looks at me and knows exactly what I'm thinking..."
He raised his hand and traced his thumb almost casually along her jaw, lingering on her chin for a moment. "And just what exactly is it you're thinking, love?" he murmured.
She leaned back with a cheeky grin, so wonderfully playful and carefree that it pleased him more than anything else, and started the engine, her sparkling green eyes fixed on the street before them. "And wouldn't you like to know," she replied.
About ten minutes later, they'd settled down in a niche at Granny's, facing each other, the table between them. Nobody had taken special notice of them entering and taking their place, and again it amazed Emma how much people were already used to seeing them together. Ruby was the only one who'd thrown a suggestive you-go-girl-smile and a wink their way when she'd taken their orders. She started to wonder if they'd already been considered a couple before they even were one. Or had they already been a couple even before noticing it themselves, minus the lovemaking? At any rate, she suddenly realized that this was something like their first date... nobody else around, no crisis to face. The sole purpose of them sitting here together having dinner was... just being together.
Emma stole a glance at Hook's face and saw that he was looking at her with that special, slight Killian-smile that was bare of any mockery or teasing, no matter how playful. Instead, it was filled with silent admiration and an eager but quiet anticipation – not really expecting or demanding anything, just waiting for what she was willing to give. She realized how many times she'd already seen it on his face when he'd been focusing on her, but she'd never fully understood what it meant. It made her feel cherished more than anything else, and she also felt completely at ease with herself and with them sitting here – with their date. Courting, she thought and smiled to herself when she remembered how she'd tried to explain modern language to Hook the previous evening – seriously, had that only been about twenty-four hours ago?
"What?" he asked when he noticed her secret smile.
She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just..."
They were interrupted by Ruby approaching the table with their food. Suddenly, Emma felt like she was starving; they both started to eat but never stopped watching each other. In fact, both enjoyed just watching the other one do normal, everyday things; they hadn't experienced much of that yet.
Suddenly, the ringing of Emma's phone interrupted the quiet atmosphere, and she almost jumped a little and fished for it in her handbag. "Must be Henry," she murmured, and Hook just smiled and waved his hand encouragingly. The magic of telephones was one of the first things he had learned about in this realm – and the endless importance they held. He had to admit, of course, that they did have their appeal. Indeed a quicker and safer way to communicate than sending a pigeon. Someday, he would get one of the mysterious devices, too.
Emma looked at her phone and nodded. It was indeed Henry; Regina had promised to have him call her. She smiled and answered the phone. "Hey, kid!"
"Mom," came the reply, and she automatically smiled when she heard the elation in his voice. Obviously, he'd had a fun day – about time he was starting to have them, she thought. Since the day she'd met him, she'd hardly seen him as a happy, normal kid, doing things normal kids did; she knew that their year in New York didn't really count, and she was aware that maybe the moment she'd told him they would stay in Storybrooke because it was their home was the first moment Henry had started to feel like there was a chance for him to have a normal life. Okay, as normal as life could be with Rumplestiltskin, Snow White and Prince Charming as grandparents and the Evil Queen as second mother – but obviously, this didn't seem to bother him at all. He just wanted to be a kid with a real home, surrounded by friends, family and love, and he couldn't care less if that inner circle included magical creatures, pirates, fairies or sorcerers.
"How was your day?" she asked. "I heard you've been in the woods?"
"Pretty cool," came the answer. "It was fun."
"You getting along with the boy?"
"Roland? Yeah..." Emma could see her son shrug before her inner eye. "He's a bit clingy, but okay. Can I stay here for another few days?"
She smiled, and Hook silently enjoyed watching her facial expression as she talked to her son. "Sure, kid," she replied, "don't worry. We'll... we'll work out an arrangement soon, okay?"
"Cool. Are you home?" the boy asked.
Emma looked down at her plate. "Ah... no," she replied after a short moment of hesitation. "I'm at Granny's."
"Oh." Damn that kid, she could hear the grin in his voice. "Not alone, I hope?"
She threw a quick glance at Hook and licked her lips a little nervously. "No," she answered and hoped Henry would let the subject rest. Although the kid had shown her the evening before that he found it absolutely cool that his mom was dating Captain Hook, it was a little like with David in the afternoon: she had to get used to it.
"Good," he replied simply. "Have fun, mom. Talk to you tomorrow," he quickly said then hung up.
Emma looked down at her phone with a nervous little smile and finally put it away again, just to find Hook's gaze resting on her face when she raised her eyes again. He grinned.
"So," he said, "how's the lad holding up?"
"Henry?" she shrugged. "He never ceases to amaze me. He's doing pretty well, although it's been a bit much lately, even for him." For a moment, her gaze drifted off, a fond glow flowing over her face. "He's a tough guy."
Hook smiled. "Like mother, like son."
She chuckled. "Yeah... well, he's just happy we're staying in Storybrooke."
He nodded. "It's important to him that everything's back to normal."
"As normal as it gets..." she replied with slight irony in her voice. Who knew when the next crisis would happen...
"To him, it is." His hand played with his half-empty beer glass and he tilted his head questioningly. "Does he miss his father?"
That had been unexpected. A shadow flew over Emma's face, but she was also touched that Hook showed that much interest and compassion in Henry – touched, but not really surprised. That was simply so him. "Good question..." she replied thoughtfully. "Well, he can hardly miss what he never had; he barely knew Neal." She sighed, like always, when that subject was addressed, feeling a mix of guilt, remorse and shame wash over her; something that would probably never completely go away. She would have to learn to deal with it; maybe she wouldn't have to do it alone. "I think he misses having the chance," she added and shrugged. "David's great, and he has the right age, but... weird as it is, he's Grandpa to him." Hook grinned, and she went on: "Today he went into the forest with Robin and Roland... he seemed to like it."
He'd been listening attentively and nodded. "He'll be alright, Swan," he told her in a soothing tone, "you'll get him through it." His voice was filled with that typical, unfaltering confidence he'd always shown in her. I have yet to see you fail. "He's surrounded by good people who love him. And your father is fair good company..." – he smirked and tilted his head – "for a grandfather."
Emma scrutinized him closely, thoughtfully. She didn't want to push anything, but then... she'd heard his voice when he'd offered to talk to Henry after Neal had been killed, to help him through it; the kid had enjoyed that. And she knew from their journey back from Neverland on the Jolly Roger that Henry had taken an instinctive liking to Hook. Back then, it had seemed somehow weird to her, but now, she realized, she should have expected it. Henry had always had a talent for seeing through people's facades – to see the best in people – and he'd hardly ever been wrong.
Spontaneously, she asked: "Maybe you...could spend some time with him, too?" She leaned a little forward, searching his gaze, and added: "He'd love that." Hook blinked, looked down at his plate and fidgeted with his fork, acting deliberately nonchalant, but she could clearly see how much her suggestion, her display of trust, really pleased him, and she was happy about that. "He's been asking a lot of questions about Neverland, lately," she went on quickly. "Maybe you could..." She waved her hand and left the sentence hanging unfinished in the air.
There was the bowed head tilt again, and his eyes hiked back up to her face. "Of course I'll gladly assist if I can be of use to the lad..."
"He likes you, Killian," she interrupted with a smile, perfectly aware of what he was doing. "A lot." He nodded and scratched behind his ear, looking down at his plate again. Emma added quietly but clearly: "Like mother, like son..." An adorable, pleased grin flew over his scruffy face; Emma decided it was time to change the subject to lighten the atmosphere. "And what did you do all day today?" she asked. "Before you came to the sheriff's station, that is."
He shook his head. "Not so much... I went to the barn and checked if everything's safe."
Her eyes widened in mild surprise; but then... he'd just been doing what actually had been on her mind the whole day. In a way, he had her back, as always. "Really?"
Hook tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "I've learned I'd always better be looking over my shoulder." He moved his hand dismissively. "But it looks like there's no threat anymore from that side."
Emma smiled. "Always the hero," she commented with benevolent irony.
He frowned and waved her off a little impatiently. "I'm nothing of the sort, love," he contradicted and threw her an almost challenging glance. "Do you really reckon I would have leapt into that time portal if it hadn't been you I was chasing after?"
She scrutinized him closely, boring her green eyes into his blue ones, and nodded slowly. "Actually, yes."
Hook averted his eyes and looked down at his hand that was still playing with the fork, showing that adorable mix of embarrassment and pleasure he always displayed when someone addressed him as being one of the good guys.
"Weren't you always the one to tell me I should stop pretending I'm somebody else?" she reminded him softly.
He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, tilting his head and scratching behind his ear, still avoiding her eyes. "But I am still a pirate," he declared and finally looked at her with a playful grin before he added: "And a scoundrel."
Emma smiled and mentally shook her head. He'd done it again – successfully navigated out of the shoals of being made a hero. Well, she'd travelled a long road herself, from lost girl, jailbird and disillusioned loner to be a mother, a daughter, the Savior and now a lover; to sail the ship from the dark waters of Neverland and a three hundred years' restless and ruthless quest for revenge into being the savior of the day on occasion was probably just as hard, even for a hell of a captain like the one sitting opposite her. It dawned on her that Hook, much like herself, had his own amount of embracing new sides of himself to do. Letting go of something that has defined you for the best part of your life – and his life had been long – wasn't easy. She made a secret vow to help him through that, just as he'd helped her to accept who she really was and where she belonged. Still, that didn't mean he had to let go of the scoundrel side completely.
"Yeah... and I'm glad about that," she told him. His inquiring eyebrow shot up, and Princess Leia just couldn't resist adding with a smile: "I need more scoundrels in my life."
Hook's jaw dropped. "More?!" he replied sharply. "What in blazes is that supposed to mean?"
She laughed. "It's just a saying, don't worry." She raised her hands in a soothing gesture. "One day you'll understand."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You should know that I don't share well," he growled.
She leaned a little forward. "Just to be clear – I don't share at all."
That display of possessiveness obviously pacified him immediately, because he visibly relaxed again and flashed one of his heart-stopping grins her way, showing off his perfect teeth. "You have nothing to fear, Swan," he drawled.
"Good." She felt a flirtatious smile curve her lips; a little unfamiliar yet, but nevertheless it was a wonderful feeling. "Anyway, my point was – I like the pirate part in you."
Suddenly, their stares locked, and electricity filled the air between them. It took Emma by surprise how quickly the atmosphere had changed; almost out of the blue, it was thickly filled with sexual tension that had risen to the open after it'd been bubbling underneath the surface for the whole afternoon. Hook's hand was resting on the table beside his plate, and the restless way his ringed fingers kept moving and fidgeting all the time subtly changed as he started to rub the tips of his thumb and middle finger together in a slow, circular motion – highly distracting. Now he leaned forward, tilted his head slightly, and Emma thought: do it already!
And there it was, the infamous, suggestive twitch of his eyebrows when he replied in a very low voice: "You like a part of this pirate..." – she just knew he was up to something wicked when he popped the 't', and she was right, because he added: "... in you."
Emma continued to stare at him, her mouth literally hanging open, while a bolt of lightning shot through her chest right through her whole body and hit her directly where it hurt. She swallowed twice; the temperature seemed to have risen quite a few degrees, and her throat was bone dry. Other parts of her were anything but. "Indeed, I do," she managed in a breathless voice.
Hook shifted on his bench and shuffled his feet, and she just knew he was spreading his legs under the table. When she thought about the most likely reason for that, her inner walls clenched. His illegally gorgeous mouth curved into a predatory grin, and he pushed his plate aside with his hook. "I think I'm done with this," he said in a hoarse voice, without taking his eyes off of hers. "Care for... dessert?" He rolled his tongue through his mouth, its tip just so visible behind his teeth, and added: "Upstairs?"
Instead of answering him, Emma raised her right hand and waved hectically in the direction of the counter. "Ruby," she called, suddenly a little short of breath, "bill." Then she shook her head to bring herself back to reality again, turned around and saw Ruby approaching already. "Please," she added a little sheepishly.
When she looked at Hook again, she saw that his grin had turned into the lewdest version she'd ever seen grace his face. A wave of heat washed over her.
Ruby threw them an amused glance when she brought the bill and wished them a pointed "good night" with a twinkle in her eyes worthy of any wolf. Hook, however, didn't seem to notice because he barely paid attention to anything – or anybody – else than Emma. He was completely fascinated by her face and body language: the way she carelessly, hastily stuffed her purse back into her satchel; the restless way her eyes were darting from Ruby to her own hands, to his face and to the depths of the room; and when Ruby had finally turned around and walked away, the impatient way she slid to the edge of the bench to get out from their nook. He felt the same way, of course. He couldn't wait to escape this room full of observers to the privacy of his own room, where he longed to finally pull her into his arms, entangle his hand in her hair, bury his face in her neck, bury himself in her. Only an attentive onlooker, however, would have noticed anything about that hormonal inner uproar, as it was betrayed only by the subtle change in the way his fingers played and fidgeted on the table and by the increasing frequency of his tongue darting out and moistening his lips.
His Swan, on the other hand – she looked as tense as a bowstring ready to snap any moment, and she wasn't good at hiding it. He smiled to himself when she threw him an urging "what are you waiting for?" look because he hadn't moved yet, whereas she was already on her feet, impatiently tapping on the floor with one of her dangerous looking shoes. Hook knew that he was the cause for her adorable impatience, and that knowledge was almost too much to handle.
Without any further delay, he got up from the bench, definitely relieved to be able to hide his own impatience behind his coat. He waited for the tiniest moment, leaving it up to her which way she would take: the inconspicuous one through the front door, only to sneak back in again through the side entrance, or the direct route through the back exit, leading to the guest rooms, risking that someone might notice it and put two and two together. He secretly hoped for the second option, although he almost didn't dare to.
Emma didn't hesitate for one second before she turned on her heels and headed straight for the back exit, not even bothering to put on her black trench, only after throwing him another impatient glance. He smiled to himself, absolutely thrilled that she didn't show any sign whatsoever of feeling uncomfortable about being seen with him; a small part of him had been afraid she might. He followed after her, perhaps giving away a bit of his own impatience after all.
Credits:
as usual, my biggest thank you goes to my wonderful and irreplaceable editor emeraldromance; I'm embarrassed to claim this work as my own when I think of the many wonderful linguistic nuances and gems she has added to it, as usual. I'm sorry, darling, but I'll never let you off the hook.
And, as every writer knows, it's so very valuable and important to toy with ideas and get honest feedback and maybe a little push when you seem stuck - and that's for what I can always count on my muse. Grazie Silvia!